The phone ringing had taken on a different meaning this morning; a more ominous, anxiety-ridden meaning when it came to the department.
The unsolved, brutal slaying of a young girl down at the wharf a couple of weeks ago was still causing rumors across town, having people fear for a repeat attack even though initial research and psychological reports had pointed into the general direction of the family. Gathering enough evidence to indict anybody had been a different issue altogether, and as such, preventing him from any further comment on the case when it came to the press.
The budget meeting was two months out, one of the more loathed annual events he had to live through. Then again, how could he have known thirty years ago when he put on that badge that his role would eventually get him off the streets and into a cozy office where he'd be fighting quotas and bureaucratic nonsense, rather than crime? Yes, his reports and documentation were prepared for that unpleasant formality, and yet, it did little to assuage his ill feelings toward it.
Then there was the Saunders case, the proverbial drop of water that was about to make his glass overflow this month. What a godforsaken mess. Who knew that a comparatively small town like Burlingame could put on a blood bath like that? And of all things, for the case to catch the undivided, passionate, somewhat guilt-driven attention of his finest detective.
He got it.
He really did.
Knowing Mike for as long as he had, it was easy to understand just why the Lieutenant would be all over the case, considering it a noble crusade to finish what Alex had started. Olsen had signed off on more odd requests when it came to this case than the last few cases combined, even turning a blind eye when a child's body arrived at the morgue up here instead of Burlingame, all while Rene Verdant, God's answer to every plague known to mankind, was making himself cozy in the Hall of Justice Building, trying to reignite his deteriorating legal career by tarnishing every cop's name he came across.
Rudy sighed, running a tired hand across his forehead for the umpteenth time, wondering if the relative quietness of his morning would be an omen to the phone call he was receiving.
After the second ring, he picked up the receiver, doing a brief mental survey of what the call might entail, before answering.
"This is Captain Olsen speaking."
"Captain Olsen, this is Marlene down from dispatch."
Yep, he knew that'd be the one.
"What can I do for you, Marlene?"
The voice on the other end sounded timid, uncertain of the news she was relaying.
"Sir, we had a lady from Burlingame get a hold of us. She spoke on grounds of anonymity but she wanted to warn us that Captain Morris and two of his men were seen following Lieutenant Stone and Inspector Keller. She felt that this would be worrisome and wanted to see if we can get a hold of them."
"And did you?"
"Negative, Captain. They 10-20'd twenty-six minutes ago and are due to check back in 19 minutes but we have been unable to establish contact."
Rudy sighed quietly, feeling his hand reach for a cigar in the holder to the right of his desk, then hesitating.
"Very well. Under those circumstances, send backup units 7-Charlie-11, 7-Charlie-15, Inspectors 8-4 and 8-5, if available. Contact Burlingame Medical and see if they can send a unit on standby to last known 10-20 of 8-1."
There was the slightest of hesitation on the other end, before the timid voice spoke up again.
"10-4, Captain Olsen. Should we call you as soon as we make contact with 8-1?"
"Please do. As soon as possible. Thanks."
With a weary sigh, he lowered the received back onto the cradle, trying to stifle a frustrated grunt stemming from a situation he knew damn well was going to turn into a mess sooner or later.
Now the question was, would the cavalry get there in time?