Chapter 9
Mark folded the letter he'd been reading and removed his glasses with hands that weren't quite steady. He drew a calming breath and pushed his chair away from his desk. As he rose, his stiff joints protested, and Mark thought again about how much he'd aged in the weeks since Carol's death. Intellectually he knew that some of the aches and pains would fade as his grief and depression lightened. However, burying Carol had also made him face his own mortality and the realization that he wasn't getting any younger despite his typically young at heart attitude.
From the kitchen Mark could hear Steve moving around as he prepared the marinade for the meat they'd be putting on the grill later that day. It had been several weeks since Jesse and Amanda had joined him and Steve for a meal. Mark hoped this was a sign that Steve was working through his grief and ready to stop burying himself in his work as a way to try and dull the pain. Mark was concerned about his son. Although Steve had always guarded his emotions quite well, he still couldn't quite shake the feeling that something else, something more than his sister's death, had driven Steve to retreat even deeper into himself than normal.
With Steve's attention focused on what he was doing, Mark took a few moments to observe his son unobtrusively. What he saw disturbed him. Tense shoulder and neck muscles were obvious under the polo shirt Steve wore and he'd lost weight judging by the way the clothes hung on his frame. Mark was also aware Steve wasn't sleeping well. If the lines of exhaustion around his eyes hadn't given it away, Mark knew that between his caseload and the restaurant Steve was barely getting three or four hours of sleep a night. On the rare nights he was home before one or two in the morning, Mark often heard movement from Steve's apartment before dawn.
Steve looked up then as if he'd sensed he was being watched. His expression was guarded and Mark wondered about the cause of it. They were normally very open with each other.
"Need any help?"
"No, I got it. Did you use up the olive oil?"
Mark nodded. "There's a new bottle in the pantry."
"Is Amanda bringing C.J. and Dion?"
"No. They have some sort of skating party to go to for a friend's birthday."
"That sounds like fun. I'll have to talk to Amanda about taking them to the batting cage or something next week. I haven't had much of a chance to spend any time with them lately."
"I'm sure they'd enjoy that." Mark paused and an awkward silence settled between them. He cleared his throat. "I got a letter from the domestic crisis center in Portland today thanking us again for giving them Carol's furniture. They're very grateful."
"I'm glad," Steve said, simply. When Mark and Steve had returned to Portland six weeks after the memorial service, they had faced the almost overwhelming task of cleaning out Carol's apartment. Both men had been uncertain about what to do with all her belongings especially the furniture. They hadn't had the energy to move it all back to Malibu to try and sell, and they hadn't wanted to burden Trisha or one of Carol's other friends with that responsibility either. Finally they had decided to pack up whatever they wanted and give the rest to charity. Mark had asked Trisha to recommend a group who could use the donated items.
Without hesitation, Trisha had suggested a new domestic violence crisis center that had just opened. The executive director was a close friend and Trisha knew the center was still in need of many things that would make it a more comfortable place for the scared women who were fleeing an abusive situation. Steve, thinking of some of the abused women he'd seen during his years as a cop, had immediately agreed to the suggestion. Mark had told Trisha to bring her friend by the apartment and she could pick whatever she wanted.
Hesitantly, as if she couldn't believe her good fortune, the executive director had accepted the living room furniture and most of the bedroom set as well. Steve had boxed up many of the books from Carol's shelves and loaded them on the truck too so the women staying there would have a distraction from their problems if only for a few hours. When Mark had mentioned Carol's clothes hanging in the closet, the young woman had eagerly supplied the name of a clothing bank she often worked with that was always in need of women's clothes. They would be especially glad to receive the skirts and suits, she had told Mark, as they assisted women in transition to get proper clothes for job interviews.
"I'm glad," Steve repeated. "I think Carol would be pleased to know that other women were able to use her things."
"After her experiences with Bruce, she had a real empathy for women in abusive situations. She understood how much courage it took for them to leave."
"At least Carol was smart to get out early. Too many stay because they think he'll change or that somehow magically things will go back to how they used to be."
"That's a hard fantasy for some to give up. And it wasn't always bad for Bruce and Carol," Mark added, thinking of the photo albums he'd found in a closet. "They were happy in the beginning."
Steve's mouth tightened but he said nothing. Even after all these years the mere thought of his sister's husband was enough to make him seethe. Carol had deserved far better than the two bit loser she'd married. As far as Steve was concerned it didn't matter if they were happy in the beginning. It was the end he remembered most clearly. The end in which Bruce Hilton had hit his wife and then had almost gotten her killed because of his blackmail scheme. He'd gotten to Carol in time then. What, Steve wondered, had made this time different? Why hadn't he been able to save her this time?
Having no desire to continue that train of thought even with himself, Steve threw down the sponge he'd been using to wipe the counters. "Everything's under control here so I'm going for a run."
"Don't be gone too long. Jesse and Amanda will be here soon."
Muscles not recently used complained as Steve set a steady pace down the beach. Welcoming the physical pain his run was causing, he hoped it would drive all other thoughts from his mind. Steve knew he desperately needed a respite from the turmoil he'd been in since the evening he'd walked into that alley and realized it was Carol surrounded by all that trash. Sleep failed to provide him with any relief. He was plagued by nightmares of the murder every time he tried to sleep for more than a couple of hours. As a result, he was practically living on catnaps and caffeine. Work wasn't much of a distraction either. Each time he was called to a crime scene or had to face a devastated family, he had to steel himself against the raw pain he felt when emotional wounds that hadn't even started to heal were ripped open yet again.
Steve turned around and headed home. Even though he was rarely in the mood for company these days, he was glad Jesse and Amanda were coming for dinner. It meant he wouldn't have to be alone with his dad for a few hours. For the first time since his rebellious teen years, Steve didn't know what to say to Mark. The situation had become even more awkward after Steve had overheard Mark on the phone telling someone that he'd always lived with the possibility of burying his son, but it had never occurred to him he might outlive his daughter. Steve had winced at the resignation in his dad's voice as Mark had gone on to say that he now feared outliving both his children. As Steve had backed away from the door, Mark's words had echoed through his head and he'd wondered again as he had everyday since Carol's death why it had been her lying in that alley and not him. He was the cop and knew, and accepted, the risks that came with the job including the possibility of his own death.
Sighing, Steve stepped into the shower. Since then, he'd found it easier to try and stay out of Mark's sight. The last thing he wanted was to be a constant reminder to Mark that he was still alive and Carol wasn't. It was also a way to avoid his father's constant hovering and decreased the likelihood they'd have to have a meaningful conversation. They rarely discussed anything more substantial than the day to day grind anymore. If they talked about the case, they always ended up arguing about the lack of progress and Steve felt his guilt increase because he wasn't able to give Mark what he so desperately needed right now - justice and a sense of closure. In addition, he knew his lack of sleep was making him irritable and, at times, downright unpleasant to be around. Rather than subject his friends to that, Steve had started spending less time with them. He had only agreed to today's cookout in an attempt to please his dad. He had originally planned to spend his first day off in weeks alone riding his dirt bike on some trails up the coast.
Pasting on what he hoped was a neutral, if not pleasant, expression Steve went upstairs. He glanced at the clock and pulled the meat from the refrigerator. As he was adjusting the grill, Jesse and Amanda came up the deck steps.
"What? No ribs?" Jesse asked in mock horror.
"Don't listen to him, Steve. Jesse still hasn't learned he shouldn't complain about the menu when he's an invited guest."
"If he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to eat."
"Good point." Amanda shoved the brown paper bag she held into Jesse's hands. "Be a good boy and put the ice cream in the freezer for me."
Knowing Amanda wanted to talk with Steve, Jesse went without complaint. As soon as she heard the door close, Amanda turned to her friend.
"I'm worried about you."
Steve thought about ignoring her but knew Amanda would persist if he put up any protest. Instead he said, "You don't have to be."
Amanda's eyebrows shot up. "I don't? Steve, you're clearly unhappy and under stress. You look like you haven't slept for days. We're seeing less and less of you. Jesse and I are worried."
"Amanda - "
"No. Hear me out. You've always hidden your emotions so I wouldn't expect that to change now and I've always tried to respect your privacy. But you've become so distant and withdrawn lately and that isolation isn't good for you. Now more than ever you need the support of people who love you. There's no shame in admitting you need someone. Talk to us. Tell us what's wrong so - "
"Hi, Amanda."
Amanda nearly groaned out loud. Mark couldn't have picked a worse time to step out onto the deck. She had been so close to breaking through Steve's emotional armor. His eyes, now shuttered again, had been full of pain. Damn! Amanda thought to herself. She shot a look at Jesse and he shrugged helplessly. He evidently had stalled as long as he could, but it hadn't been quite long enough.
After a glance that told Steve their conversation was far from over, Amanda moved away to greet Mark. Steve heaved a silent sigh of relief. Amanda was one of the few people besides his dad who had the ability to break past his defenses, and he'd been very close to breaking down and spilling his guts out to her. Steve shook his head. It wouldn't be fair to burden her with the load he was carrying right now.
As the meat cooked on the grill, the four friends sat around the deck talking and enjoying the sunshine. Jesse could almost fool himself into thinking everything was normal except for an undercurrent of tension between Mark and Steve that he'd never experienced before. It was almost a relief when Steve announced dinner was ready.
Amanda was bringing a fresh pitcher of iced tea from the kitchen when the phone rang. Mark started to get up, but she motioned for him to sit back down and said she'd get it. Returning a moment later, she told Steve it was for him. Excusing himself, he went to take the call.
It seemed to Mark that Steve had been gone a long time and he wondered if it was Emma on the phone with news about Carol's case. Just as Mark decided to go find him, his son returned to the dining room. He frowned when he saw the gun clipped to Steve's belt.
"That was the station. I have to go."
"But it's your day off," Mark protested. "Can't they call someone else?"
Steve shook his head. "Two guys are on vacation and Murphy isn't cleared medically for duty yet." He refrained from mentioning that Emma was still almost exclusively working on Carol's case. "I have to cover for them just like they covered for me when I was gone."
"It's just that it's your first day off in weeks."
Steve struggled to hold his temper in check. This wasn't the first time he'd been called in on his day off. He also knew it wouldn't be the last and he told Mark that.
"Go on then," Mark snapped. "Go solve someone else's murder since you can't seem to solve your own sister's."
Jesse and Amanda were stunned into silence by Mark's harsh tone. Steve flinched at his father's cruel words and his face blanched beneath what was left of his tan. Mark seemed oblivious to the additional tension his words had caused.
After a tense moment of silence Steve swallowed hard and said tightly, "Don't bother waiting up," before rushing from the room.
Jesse noticed Mark didn't tell Steve to be careful as was his custom and to Jesse that spoke volumes about the state of their relationship. From the expression on her face, he could tell Amanda was thinking the same thing as she alternately looked between Mark and Steve's retreating figure. Suddenly, as if she had come to some decision, Amanda rose from the table and ran after Steve.
"Steve," she called. "Steve, wait." He paused, his hand gripping the handle to the truck door, but didn't turn around. "He didn't mean it you know."
"I'm glad you can be so sure." Amanda had never heard such bitterness from Steve before.
"He's angry and frustrated and hurting. It's no excuse but - "
"So I'm just supposed to go back in there and forgive him, is that it?"
"No. Yes. I don't know," Amanda finally admitted. "I don't know what the answer is. I don't know what caused him to.to attack you like that. You certainly didn't deserve it. The two of you have to sit down and talk about whatever it is that's driven this wedge between you."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?" Amanda pulled on Steve's arm forcing him to turn and face her. "You need each other, now more than ever, but if you can't talk to Mark or to Jesse and me, then find somebody else - "
The shrill beep of Steve's pager interrupted Amanda in mid-sentence. Shutting it off, he looked at the display and then at Amanda. "I have to go," he said, climbing into his truck.
"Just promise me you'll find someone you can talk to." Amanda reached up and laid a hand on Steve's cheek. "And even if Mark didn't say it, I will. Please be careful."
***************
When Amanda returned to the house, Jesse was alone and clearing the remains of their dinner from the table. "How's Steve?"
"Not good. I'm scared for him Jesse. He's exhausted and distracted. He's not sharp and he could get hurt."
"You think we should talk to Emma or Captain Newman about putting him on leave?"
Amanda considered the idea for a moment and then rejected it. "In his present mind set, if he found out we went behind his back like that, he'd see it as another attack and it would drive him away from us for good."
"You're probably right. Steve seems to think he's all by himself so we better not do anything to alienate him further."
"Where's Mark?"
"He headed toward the beach. We should make sure he's okay before we leave."
Mark was nowhere in sight when Jesse and Amanda stepped out onto the deck. At first they thought he might have taken a walk, but then Jesse noticed movement by a dune near the water. Mark's white hair was barely visible in the fading light.
Mark sensed more than heard the approach of his two young friends. He didn't know how long he'd been out on this dune trying to clear his head, but he was sure it had been awhile. The sun which had been shining brightly when he'd come out of the beach house was quickly dropping below the horizon.
"Mark?" Amanda's soft voice came out of the darkness. "We wanted to make sure you were alright before we left."
Slowly Mark turned around. His cheeks were still wet from the tears he'd shed. "I've been out here trying to figure out who that was who said those hurtful, mean words to Steve. I've never," he paused and gave Jesse and Amanda a pleading look, "never said anything that cruel before especially to my son. I don't know what happened. I felt like I was watching this stranger and I couldn't do anything to stop it."
"Extreme stress can make people act out of character, Mark. You know that."
Mark sighed heavily. "That's not a very comforting thought, Jesse, and I'm sure it doesn't help Steve any. Has he said anything to either of you about Carol's murder or the investigation, maybe mentioned something he was trying to keep from me. He won't talk to me. He's completely shut me out."
"He won't talk to us either," Amanda admitted. "I really don't think he's talked to anyone since the funeral. When I think about it, that's when I remember him starting to draw away although I didn't give it much thought at the time."
"Can we do anything for you?"
"No but thanks for offering. I'm going to stay out here for a while longer and then, even though he told me not to, I'm going to wait up for him. I have to try and apologize."
As it turned out, Mark never got the chance. Steve hadn't returned home by the time Mark fell asleep around two o'clock and there was no sign of him when Mark left for the hospital the next morning. Jesse reported seeing Steve at BBQ Bob's later in the day and Mark thought about stopping by, but then decided against it. He really wanted to talk to his son in private not at a crowded restaurant. He would wait until he and Steve could talk at home, Mark decided. After all, his son wasn't the only stubborn Sloan in the family. In this battle of wills, with so much at stake, Mark was prepared to wait for as long as it took.
Mark folded the letter he'd been reading and removed his glasses with hands that weren't quite steady. He drew a calming breath and pushed his chair away from his desk. As he rose, his stiff joints protested, and Mark thought again about how much he'd aged in the weeks since Carol's death. Intellectually he knew that some of the aches and pains would fade as his grief and depression lightened. However, burying Carol had also made him face his own mortality and the realization that he wasn't getting any younger despite his typically young at heart attitude.
From the kitchen Mark could hear Steve moving around as he prepared the marinade for the meat they'd be putting on the grill later that day. It had been several weeks since Jesse and Amanda had joined him and Steve for a meal. Mark hoped this was a sign that Steve was working through his grief and ready to stop burying himself in his work as a way to try and dull the pain. Mark was concerned about his son. Although Steve had always guarded his emotions quite well, he still couldn't quite shake the feeling that something else, something more than his sister's death, had driven Steve to retreat even deeper into himself than normal.
With Steve's attention focused on what he was doing, Mark took a few moments to observe his son unobtrusively. What he saw disturbed him. Tense shoulder and neck muscles were obvious under the polo shirt Steve wore and he'd lost weight judging by the way the clothes hung on his frame. Mark was also aware Steve wasn't sleeping well. If the lines of exhaustion around his eyes hadn't given it away, Mark knew that between his caseload and the restaurant Steve was barely getting three or four hours of sleep a night. On the rare nights he was home before one or two in the morning, Mark often heard movement from Steve's apartment before dawn.
Steve looked up then as if he'd sensed he was being watched. His expression was guarded and Mark wondered about the cause of it. They were normally very open with each other.
"Need any help?"
"No, I got it. Did you use up the olive oil?"
Mark nodded. "There's a new bottle in the pantry."
"Is Amanda bringing C.J. and Dion?"
"No. They have some sort of skating party to go to for a friend's birthday."
"That sounds like fun. I'll have to talk to Amanda about taking them to the batting cage or something next week. I haven't had much of a chance to spend any time with them lately."
"I'm sure they'd enjoy that." Mark paused and an awkward silence settled between them. He cleared his throat. "I got a letter from the domestic crisis center in Portland today thanking us again for giving them Carol's furniture. They're very grateful."
"I'm glad," Steve said, simply. When Mark and Steve had returned to Portland six weeks after the memorial service, they had faced the almost overwhelming task of cleaning out Carol's apartment. Both men had been uncertain about what to do with all her belongings especially the furniture. They hadn't had the energy to move it all back to Malibu to try and sell, and they hadn't wanted to burden Trisha or one of Carol's other friends with that responsibility either. Finally they had decided to pack up whatever they wanted and give the rest to charity. Mark had asked Trisha to recommend a group who could use the donated items.
Without hesitation, Trisha had suggested a new domestic violence crisis center that had just opened. The executive director was a close friend and Trisha knew the center was still in need of many things that would make it a more comfortable place for the scared women who were fleeing an abusive situation. Steve, thinking of some of the abused women he'd seen during his years as a cop, had immediately agreed to the suggestion. Mark had told Trisha to bring her friend by the apartment and she could pick whatever she wanted.
Hesitantly, as if she couldn't believe her good fortune, the executive director had accepted the living room furniture and most of the bedroom set as well. Steve had boxed up many of the books from Carol's shelves and loaded them on the truck too so the women staying there would have a distraction from their problems if only for a few hours. When Mark had mentioned Carol's clothes hanging in the closet, the young woman had eagerly supplied the name of a clothing bank she often worked with that was always in need of women's clothes. They would be especially glad to receive the skirts and suits, she had told Mark, as they assisted women in transition to get proper clothes for job interviews.
"I'm glad," Steve repeated. "I think Carol would be pleased to know that other women were able to use her things."
"After her experiences with Bruce, she had a real empathy for women in abusive situations. She understood how much courage it took for them to leave."
"At least Carol was smart to get out early. Too many stay because they think he'll change or that somehow magically things will go back to how they used to be."
"That's a hard fantasy for some to give up. And it wasn't always bad for Bruce and Carol," Mark added, thinking of the photo albums he'd found in a closet. "They were happy in the beginning."
Steve's mouth tightened but he said nothing. Even after all these years the mere thought of his sister's husband was enough to make him seethe. Carol had deserved far better than the two bit loser she'd married. As far as Steve was concerned it didn't matter if they were happy in the beginning. It was the end he remembered most clearly. The end in which Bruce Hilton had hit his wife and then had almost gotten her killed because of his blackmail scheme. He'd gotten to Carol in time then. What, Steve wondered, had made this time different? Why hadn't he been able to save her this time?
Having no desire to continue that train of thought even with himself, Steve threw down the sponge he'd been using to wipe the counters. "Everything's under control here so I'm going for a run."
"Don't be gone too long. Jesse and Amanda will be here soon."
Muscles not recently used complained as Steve set a steady pace down the beach. Welcoming the physical pain his run was causing, he hoped it would drive all other thoughts from his mind. Steve knew he desperately needed a respite from the turmoil he'd been in since the evening he'd walked into that alley and realized it was Carol surrounded by all that trash. Sleep failed to provide him with any relief. He was plagued by nightmares of the murder every time he tried to sleep for more than a couple of hours. As a result, he was practically living on catnaps and caffeine. Work wasn't much of a distraction either. Each time he was called to a crime scene or had to face a devastated family, he had to steel himself against the raw pain he felt when emotional wounds that hadn't even started to heal were ripped open yet again.
Steve turned around and headed home. Even though he was rarely in the mood for company these days, he was glad Jesse and Amanda were coming for dinner. It meant he wouldn't have to be alone with his dad for a few hours. For the first time since his rebellious teen years, Steve didn't know what to say to Mark. The situation had become even more awkward after Steve had overheard Mark on the phone telling someone that he'd always lived with the possibility of burying his son, but it had never occurred to him he might outlive his daughter. Steve had winced at the resignation in his dad's voice as Mark had gone on to say that he now feared outliving both his children. As Steve had backed away from the door, Mark's words had echoed through his head and he'd wondered again as he had everyday since Carol's death why it had been her lying in that alley and not him. He was the cop and knew, and accepted, the risks that came with the job including the possibility of his own death.
Sighing, Steve stepped into the shower. Since then, he'd found it easier to try and stay out of Mark's sight. The last thing he wanted was to be a constant reminder to Mark that he was still alive and Carol wasn't. It was also a way to avoid his father's constant hovering and decreased the likelihood they'd have to have a meaningful conversation. They rarely discussed anything more substantial than the day to day grind anymore. If they talked about the case, they always ended up arguing about the lack of progress and Steve felt his guilt increase because he wasn't able to give Mark what he so desperately needed right now - justice and a sense of closure. In addition, he knew his lack of sleep was making him irritable and, at times, downright unpleasant to be around. Rather than subject his friends to that, Steve had started spending less time with them. He had only agreed to today's cookout in an attempt to please his dad. He had originally planned to spend his first day off in weeks alone riding his dirt bike on some trails up the coast.
Pasting on what he hoped was a neutral, if not pleasant, expression Steve went upstairs. He glanced at the clock and pulled the meat from the refrigerator. As he was adjusting the grill, Jesse and Amanda came up the deck steps.
"What? No ribs?" Jesse asked in mock horror.
"Don't listen to him, Steve. Jesse still hasn't learned he shouldn't complain about the menu when he's an invited guest."
"If he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to eat."
"Good point." Amanda shoved the brown paper bag she held into Jesse's hands. "Be a good boy and put the ice cream in the freezer for me."
Knowing Amanda wanted to talk with Steve, Jesse went without complaint. As soon as she heard the door close, Amanda turned to her friend.
"I'm worried about you."
Steve thought about ignoring her but knew Amanda would persist if he put up any protest. Instead he said, "You don't have to be."
Amanda's eyebrows shot up. "I don't? Steve, you're clearly unhappy and under stress. You look like you haven't slept for days. We're seeing less and less of you. Jesse and I are worried."
"Amanda - "
"No. Hear me out. You've always hidden your emotions so I wouldn't expect that to change now and I've always tried to respect your privacy. But you've become so distant and withdrawn lately and that isolation isn't good for you. Now more than ever you need the support of people who love you. There's no shame in admitting you need someone. Talk to us. Tell us what's wrong so - "
"Hi, Amanda."
Amanda nearly groaned out loud. Mark couldn't have picked a worse time to step out onto the deck. She had been so close to breaking through Steve's emotional armor. His eyes, now shuttered again, had been full of pain. Damn! Amanda thought to herself. She shot a look at Jesse and he shrugged helplessly. He evidently had stalled as long as he could, but it hadn't been quite long enough.
After a glance that told Steve their conversation was far from over, Amanda moved away to greet Mark. Steve heaved a silent sigh of relief. Amanda was one of the few people besides his dad who had the ability to break past his defenses, and he'd been very close to breaking down and spilling his guts out to her. Steve shook his head. It wouldn't be fair to burden her with the load he was carrying right now.
As the meat cooked on the grill, the four friends sat around the deck talking and enjoying the sunshine. Jesse could almost fool himself into thinking everything was normal except for an undercurrent of tension between Mark and Steve that he'd never experienced before. It was almost a relief when Steve announced dinner was ready.
Amanda was bringing a fresh pitcher of iced tea from the kitchen when the phone rang. Mark started to get up, but she motioned for him to sit back down and said she'd get it. Returning a moment later, she told Steve it was for him. Excusing himself, he went to take the call.
It seemed to Mark that Steve had been gone a long time and he wondered if it was Emma on the phone with news about Carol's case. Just as Mark decided to go find him, his son returned to the dining room. He frowned when he saw the gun clipped to Steve's belt.
"That was the station. I have to go."
"But it's your day off," Mark protested. "Can't they call someone else?"
Steve shook his head. "Two guys are on vacation and Murphy isn't cleared medically for duty yet." He refrained from mentioning that Emma was still almost exclusively working on Carol's case. "I have to cover for them just like they covered for me when I was gone."
"It's just that it's your first day off in weeks."
Steve struggled to hold his temper in check. This wasn't the first time he'd been called in on his day off. He also knew it wouldn't be the last and he told Mark that.
"Go on then," Mark snapped. "Go solve someone else's murder since you can't seem to solve your own sister's."
Jesse and Amanda were stunned into silence by Mark's harsh tone. Steve flinched at his father's cruel words and his face blanched beneath what was left of his tan. Mark seemed oblivious to the additional tension his words had caused.
After a tense moment of silence Steve swallowed hard and said tightly, "Don't bother waiting up," before rushing from the room.
Jesse noticed Mark didn't tell Steve to be careful as was his custom and to Jesse that spoke volumes about the state of their relationship. From the expression on her face, he could tell Amanda was thinking the same thing as she alternately looked between Mark and Steve's retreating figure. Suddenly, as if she had come to some decision, Amanda rose from the table and ran after Steve.
"Steve," she called. "Steve, wait." He paused, his hand gripping the handle to the truck door, but didn't turn around. "He didn't mean it you know."
"I'm glad you can be so sure." Amanda had never heard such bitterness from Steve before.
"He's angry and frustrated and hurting. It's no excuse but - "
"So I'm just supposed to go back in there and forgive him, is that it?"
"No. Yes. I don't know," Amanda finally admitted. "I don't know what the answer is. I don't know what caused him to.to attack you like that. You certainly didn't deserve it. The two of you have to sit down and talk about whatever it is that's driven this wedge between you."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?" Amanda pulled on Steve's arm forcing him to turn and face her. "You need each other, now more than ever, but if you can't talk to Mark or to Jesse and me, then find somebody else - "
The shrill beep of Steve's pager interrupted Amanda in mid-sentence. Shutting it off, he looked at the display and then at Amanda. "I have to go," he said, climbing into his truck.
"Just promise me you'll find someone you can talk to." Amanda reached up and laid a hand on Steve's cheek. "And even if Mark didn't say it, I will. Please be careful."
***************
When Amanda returned to the house, Jesse was alone and clearing the remains of their dinner from the table. "How's Steve?"
"Not good. I'm scared for him Jesse. He's exhausted and distracted. He's not sharp and he could get hurt."
"You think we should talk to Emma or Captain Newman about putting him on leave?"
Amanda considered the idea for a moment and then rejected it. "In his present mind set, if he found out we went behind his back like that, he'd see it as another attack and it would drive him away from us for good."
"You're probably right. Steve seems to think he's all by himself so we better not do anything to alienate him further."
"Where's Mark?"
"He headed toward the beach. We should make sure he's okay before we leave."
Mark was nowhere in sight when Jesse and Amanda stepped out onto the deck. At first they thought he might have taken a walk, but then Jesse noticed movement by a dune near the water. Mark's white hair was barely visible in the fading light.
Mark sensed more than heard the approach of his two young friends. He didn't know how long he'd been out on this dune trying to clear his head, but he was sure it had been awhile. The sun which had been shining brightly when he'd come out of the beach house was quickly dropping below the horizon.
"Mark?" Amanda's soft voice came out of the darkness. "We wanted to make sure you were alright before we left."
Slowly Mark turned around. His cheeks were still wet from the tears he'd shed. "I've been out here trying to figure out who that was who said those hurtful, mean words to Steve. I've never," he paused and gave Jesse and Amanda a pleading look, "never said anything that cruel before especially to my son. I don't know what happened. I felt like I was watching this stranger and I couldn't do anything to stop it."
"Extreme stress can make people act out of character, Mark. You know that."
Mark sighed heavily. "That's not a very comforting thought, Jesse, and I'm sure it doesn't help Steve any. Has he said anything to either of you about Carol's murder or the investigation, maybe mentioned something he was trying to keep from me. He won't talk to me. He's completely shut me out."
"He won't talk to us either," Amanda admitted. "I really don't think he's talked to anyone since the funeral. When I think about it, that's when I remember him starting to draw away although I didn't give it much thought at the time."
"Can we do anything for you?"
"No but thanks for offering. I'm going to stay out here for a while longer and then, even though he told me not to, I'm going to wait up for him. I have to try and apologize."
As it turned out, Mark never got the chance. Steve hadn't returned home by the time Mark fell asleep around two o'clock and there was no sign of him when Mark left for the hospital the next morning. Jesse reported seeing Steve at BBQ Bob's later in the day and Mark thought about stopping by, but then decided against it. He really wanted to talk to his son in private not at a crowded restaurant. He would wait until he and Steve could talk at home, Mark decided. After all, his son wasn't the only stubborn Sloan in the family. In this battle of wills, with so much at stake, Mark was prepared to wait for as long as it took.