Hey again! You might have thought (hoped?) that I broke my neck while
skiing in the mountains. No way! You don't get rid of me that easy! Har
har! Well, here is my chapter, I thought Steve and Johnny could need a bit
movement and you're welcome to join them to what they're gonna find out!
And of course Shortstuff is in this to! Thank you all again for your kind
reviews and being to patient and lovely and everything and I hate myself
for being so slow and so useless at English! So here is the chaaaaapter,
finally!! (There a small references to the 4th chapter made, just in case
you can't recall...which would be absolutely my fault...*blush*)
Thanks to Wuemsel for being the best rat I've ever known, for helping me find out when there are weekends in lower sachsen (wise-cracking not appreciated here! tehe), for her great Warlock thing and for loads of urm...cream! ;-)
And here is a special thanks to Anna who's definitly in need of a good- looking, cute, short, blond, blue-eyed doc at the moment. Maybe you know the song already! ;-) Bless you, tall stuff!
All disclaimers apply. The song "Voice Of My Blood" isn't mine, but was written and published by the German singing duo Orange Blue on the album "In Love With A Dream" in 2000. Oh btw, Hansel and Gretel ain't my figures either, they belong to some weird German brothers, called Grimm, though I guess they won't complain since they have been dead for...errr...a couple of years.
Don't know if it's worth waiting for you
Again
Don't know if it's worth telling you
About the rain inside me
Feel like I'm losing control
Of my pride
Never thought that one touch could change a life
But I guess this magic was only in me
You are the voice of my blood
The scent of my life
The gentle valley among my montains inside
Why are you building these walls
Or aren't they as high as they seem
I can't ask you 'bout golden wings
'Cause you don't know me
And I fear you wouldn't believe me the truth
But there are still some honest people in this game
What we're talking about
I guess I wasn't there
You're the voice of my blood...
Jesse had actually got what Steve was about to say even before his friend had come to finish the sentence. He had been waiting for this and, as he noticed rather surprisedly now, somehow been expecting it. Yet, his blood was pounding through his ears, he simply knew that all the things that hadn't been a matter when he had said at Susan's bedside, would become somewhat of a matter now. I quite knew about questions that were ususally asked in an attempted murder case and assumed that those he would be asked weren't going to be much more pleasant than in normal cases.
In all the haste in which thoughts rattered through his mind, Jesse hadn't realized that he had frozen in the middle of the lounge. Only the gentle touch of Mark's hand on his shoulder reminded him of where he was and dragged him back into reality. "Are you ready for this, Jess?..."
Jesse was about to nod his head, but suddenly didn't feel like lying anymore. Hell, they probably could quite figure it out themselves that you were never ready for anything like that. "No...", he answered slowly, seeing heavy clouds on Steve's face that were wrapped by understanding, though. "But...", he continued, "guess I have no choice if I wanna help..." 'And not end up being more bother than help again', he added ruefully in his thoughts.
Steve sighed inwardly. His friend seemed to have come back to his senses. So he waited until Jesse had sat down and sipped two times on his coffee, then Steve let himself sink onto a chair at the opposite edge of the table to face the young doctor who, as the lieutenant noticed horrorfiedly, looked scared. Scared of him.
Jesse indeed was terrified. Steve glance was hard, objective, he looked like that cop he always was in interrogations, searching for facts, for the inevitable truth, no matter how much coolness it demanded. But even more than he feared Steve's cop-mode Jesse was frightened of his own ex- boyfriend-mode kicking in. He could only pray that he would manage to get on with it this time. No, he wouldn't freak out! Not this time!
"Have you noticed anything about the guy who kidnapped you?", Steve started the interrogation with a huge lump in his throat.
Jesse shook his head and also at Johnny's hopeful "Anything at all?" he remained silent for a few seconds.
"Nothing...I only recall someone was pressing a cloth with chloroform onto my mouth and nose...next thing I know is that I woke up being locked in a car trunk..." Mark saw his friend grimacing in pain at the memory and felt an awful pity for him.
"Do you have any idea what your kidnapper wanted from you?", Steve asked out of routine and kicked himself for it metally as soon as he watched Jesse's head jerking up.
Jesse shot his friend a sharp, cynical glare. "Wouldn't put my finger on it, but since he locked me in a car trunk and didn't seem to have the intention to help me outta there again, I suggest that he wanted me to suffocate!", he hissed through gritted teeth.
"Alright, sorry, Jess...", Steve apologised. He didn't blame Jesse for reacting like that. Nevertheless he would go on with more hard facts that Jesse wasn't going to like. "You know that Robert Bakins was murdered..."
"Yeah...", Jesse mumbled, shadows growing visibly on his face. "Well, I assume that the man who killed Robert also tried to murder Susan and kidnapped you."
"Sounds logically to me", said the young doctor, forcing himself not even to think of becoming too emotional.
"Do you have an idea who might wants to kill Susan? Or Robert?"
Jesse shook his head. He was really trying to think of anything possible, but his head was just empty. "I don't know..."
"Why did she come to LA in the first place?", Johnny asked, believing that that was a good question. But looking into Steve's face told him that his supervisor either could hide his affection very well or wasn't too happy about his protegè's enthusiasm. "Sorry", he murmured remorsefully.
Jesse answered the question nevertheless. "I'm sorry, I don't know..." Hearing that very sentence coming out of his mouth as the only one he was able to give as information, felt rather depressing to him. He felt completely useless. Susan had never needed him, she had been stubborn and self-confident, that was why he loved her so much. And now he couldn't do anything more for her than simply say "I don't know..."
"Is there someone in her past that might...", Johnny started a new attempt, but this time Steve cut in.
"Johnny, I'm the detective, I ask the smart questions and I suggest you'll go and wait outside!"
"But..."
"Don't but me, just go!"
Johnny left the room, mumbling something about only wanting to help, and Steve, his father and Jesse remained where they were. "Steve...", Jesse started slowly, "You're not being fair. He doesn't have anything to do with this. You are mad at me, aren't you?"
Two big blue eyes met Steve who felt more and more uncomfortable in his own skin. The only thing he wanted was finally do something. "No, I'm not mad at you, I'm only impatient. I'm only trying to help. Try to think back, Jess, do you remember anything about Robert or Susan or anybody she's ever been in contact with? Uni maybe?..."
Jesse sighed deeply. He remembered Greg, Susan's can't-decide-wether-to-be- dead-or-alive-guy they had met once in Carmel. He remembered her talking about highschool friends, stuff you laughed at and then forgot, nothing to care about. "No, Steve...I don't know anything..."
Steve let out a long stressed breath, scratching his temple. "That's okay, Jess, I..."
He jumped at the crash when Jesse's head hit the table, however softly. In all his frustration the young doctor had let sink his head onto the palms of his hands and deeper until his forehead touched the wooden plate. "It's not okay. I don't know anything about her...I have no idea what to do!", Jesse told the table.
Mark and Steve glanced at each other worriedly, wishing that they would have any idea at least.
Johnny, in the meantime, was grateful for the fact that in hospitals almost every room had windows instead of walls. That made spying a lot easier than he remembered it from several Christmas Eves when he had been a little boy. He could see the despair in doctor Travis' eyes shortly before whose head stroke the table in the lounge and could even hear the words that were spoken inside. He felt slightly emberassed. Johnny being Johnny was not the kind of man who took things like being thrown-out or yelled-at personally in any way. But this was one of the very few moments when Johnny had really a huge understanding for it. Maybe he had been a bit too straight.
In his thoughts Johnny got only vaguely aware of the fact that the little group had got up and was about to leave the room. He hurried along the corridor, over to a group of chairs and quickly grabbed a magazine that was lying on a table in the waiting hall. Of course, no one would ever have guessed that he had been spying, but he just wanted to make sure that no one would get a wrong idea.
"Hey...", suddenly said someone next to him and when Johnny looked up, he saw Dr. Travis smiling friendly at him.
"Hey...", greeted Johnny.
"I think Steve's looking for you and..."
"I'd better find him before he finds me?", Johnny ended the sentence, not being able to cover an amused smile, neither was his vis a vis.
"You smoke?", Jesse all of suddenly inquired.
Johnny frowned. "No...uh...why?"
"That's good...otherwise I'd have suggested that you hold that stuff the other way round..."
Johnny now for the first time scanned the alibi-magazine in his hands. There was a picture of a cigarrette in it, but somehow it seemed...the wrong way around. The young officer blushed. "Ups...dunno, that always happens to me...I...uh...it's some kind of dyslexia, you know...at College I couldn't read some stuff and also newspapers are difficult...but the worst, really the worst are envelopments, God you can't imagine..." He laughed nervously. Somehow he got the feeling that his story wasn't very believable which, nevertheless, wasn't a fact that kept Johnny from detailing it.
So he didn't even notice the sudden glim of an up-coming idea in Jesse's eyes. "That's an idea...", he murmured.
"This is it!", Jesse, no matter how much he wanted to help, was quite reluctant when he handed the piece of paper to his best friend, who sat on the seat next to him at BBQ Bob's. "I...I don't know if it's anything, but maybe..."
Steve read the few letters that were written on the site of the paper that Jesse had shown him. Kingston Drive, Santa Cruz..."Why did you keep it?", he asked while he turned around the paper unconsciously. Probably he had been hoping to find something else there, but as the text which was not much longer than the one on the other site stroke his eyes, he pulled a face. 'Memo to myself...first think, then ask...'
Jesse had hesitated for a second, he didn't know if he should prevent Steve from turning the paper around, but by the time he would maybe have come to a decision, it was already too late. But Steve once more proved to be the best and understanding friend you could have. He didn't lose a word about it. He only threw Jesse an apologizing look and the young doctor secretly sighed relievedly. He really had no intention to explain all that. Not right now. "I thought you would maybe find something there, find somene who knows something and who can be a bigger help than I am."
"We will, Jess, I promise...", Steve answered and threw one last look at the adress to make sure he would be able to remember it later since he guessed that Jesse wanted to have the note back. However, his co-owner had jumped up from his chair and grabbed his jacket. "Gotta go, Steve, my..."
"...your shift starts off in thirty minutes?"
"How did you know?"
"It's thirty past eight. At fridays you always start working at nine...which you should change some time soon by the way if you don't wanna treat your beloved co-owner, who has also an under-paid, under-appreciated and demanding job, because of a spare-ribs-paranoia."
Jesse smiled wryly. "You police guys really have great ideas when it comes to inventing new illnesses. Sure that you ain't wasting your qualities?"
"Think scrubs wouldn't suit me!", Steve replied, giggling. He had missed that. For the first time in days Jesse seemed to be a bit relaxed. Maybe he simply enjoyed the distraction. The lieutenant couldn't blame him for that.
"Scrubs suit everybody! Think about it...Bye!", Jesse waved a good-bye and turned around to face Mark and Amanda who had just entered the still almost empty restaurant. "Hi!"
"Hi...", Mark greeted and winced already at the inevitable questions that was hidden in his best friend's eyes.
"Is there..."
But even before Mark could answer, Amanda cut in softly. "No, Jesse, I'm afraid. No change, yet!" Saying that, she stroke his arm slightly. Jesse sighed. "Okay then... see ya!"
After the door had closed behind their friend, Mark and Amanda went over to Steve who quickly informed them about the news that they may had something. During that Steve realized that he had forgotten giving the paper back to Jesse. Now his dad and Amanda were scanning the adress and also Mark, same as his son, looked at the other site of the note. It had to be Susan's writing. Reading the last words of the message, Mark and Amanda both bit onto their lips. I'm also sorry...
"Poor boy...", Mark mumbled sadly.
"Hey, Johnny, you're exactly the man I have been looking for!", Steve greeted his young protege happily the other morning, shortly after he had arrived at the departement.
"Cool...", Johnny frowned. "Looking for as in looking for a guy who's done something you're not very happy about or as in looking for a man who seems to be in need of a really big challenge?"
"We are going on a li'l vacation. Ever been to Santa Cruz?"
"The one in Mexico?!"
"Nope, you geographical genius, the one in California, but since you don't even seem to know where it is, I'll take it as a 'no'. It's some hours up the coast..."
"And what are we gonna do there?", Johnny inquired. He actually hadn't had the intention to go on any vacation.
"I'll explain that to you on the plane...which we won't get unless we ain't going now!"
Steve gleefully watched Johnny looking at him like an old car. "What? Why? Now?"
"Oh, you don't have to fly...", Steve informed him in mock amusement. "Highway No.1 is great for walks..."
Johnny sighed. "Okay, let's go...but I get the window place!"
"No problem, the I will have less trouble throwing you outta it when you get on my nerves all the time!", Steve replied sweetly.
Johnny's eyes narrowed with a glim of enjoyment in them. "You don't like bullying people of your age, do you?"
"You got me!"
Steve sighed in despair, wheeping the sweat off his forehead. Flying was, for some reasons he didn't know, exhausting and now that he was running around in Kingston Drive trying to find someone who had known Susan Hilliard he was slowly running out of committment for this tiring challenge. Johnny, however, became more and more excited with every door that wasn't opened because no one was at home, with every granny that thought they would sell newspapers and every dog that tried to bite his shoes.
Police work had got its original meaning back for him. The investigating, the questioning, without computer, without pushing files or reading lab reports.
The door they finally knocked on belonged to a rather run-down place, that secretly remembered Steve of the houses you find in those old ghost towns where there are bodies burried under the building and rats in the yard. The door first only opened a crack and two brown small eyes peered through it and the way they looked, distrustingly, cool, even made Johnnie's bright, charming smile fade within seconds.
"What do you want?", a female voice asked harshly.
'Hansel and Gretel back!', thought Steve and felt a shudder down his spine. "Urm...LAPD, Ma'am we would like to ask you a few..."
"Go away!", then the door was smashed in front of them.
Johnny raised his eyebrow. "And what are we gonna do now? Pull one of those good cop/bad cop - things?"
"You ain't talking seriously, are ya?"
"Uuuhh..nope..."
Steve knocked again. "Please open up! You might hold information which is of high importance in a running murder case. And unless you don't wanna join me on the next flight to LA, you'd better open your door!"
Indeed the door was now opened again and revealed the full appeareance of a woman in the late fifties who wasn't what you'd call slim, neither what you would call friendly-looking. "Come on in...", she murmured with a less inviting gesture.
"You know, maybe we can sort this out right here...", Steve offered. "Actually we're looking for someone who knows Susan Hilliard...do you happen to know her?"
To the lieutenant's sincere surprise the woman's eyes widened in pure emotional bewilderedness.
It was not much later that Steve and Johnny were seated in the living room which didn't look much nicer than the remaining part of the building. Screwed down chairs, an old sticky carpet, a table with deep cracks in the plate. The slight uncomfortability that both of the police men felt instantly grew with every minute that they sat on their chairs, waiting for a story that would, indeed, hold pretty much of information for them. "My son, Danny, used to go to UC Santa Cruz. He was good student...until he met this girl. Susan, you know...he had a huge crush on her, they went out a few times and then she suddenly dumped him...", she hesitated for a moment. "I can remember it as though it was yesterday. He just...wasn't the same anymore. He was destroyed, the poor boy and then..." By now tears were covering Mrs. Corrings cheeks, "then she started to blame him..."
From that second Steve and Johnny could only listen to something they didn't know if they should believe it or not. Susan had blamed Danny to be stalking her, to harass her, to frighten her. And Susan hadn't been the only one. Other girls shown up, given the same evidence, also in the trail... Danny had gone to prison.
"He was just a boy in love...", ended Danny's mother her report with tears in her eyes. "You know, he truly loved that girl. And she...she destroyed him!", she hissed a last, before she was interrupted by a sharp laughter from the entrance.
"Oh please, Marge, stop that! You that isn't true!" A middle aged man was blocking the exit, glaring down on the people that were sitting in his -and his body language left no doubt that it was his- living room. "Might I ask who you are that you're listining to my wife's lies?"
"Steve Sloan and Johnny Danfield, LAPD. We're investigating in the attempted murder case on Susan Hilliard."
The man again smiled cynically. "Oh, that explains about everything...including my wife's li'l stories which ain't the truth, I'm afraid!"
Marge all of sudden whirled around. "Stop that, Bobby!", she yelled at him, but was almost begging.
"No, I won't Marge!", he replied calmly at her break-out. "It's bad enough that you are still trying to convince yourself of Danny being a perfectly normal boy after all those years, but those people need to know the truth!"
Marge simply stared at him in shock. Then she jumped up and ran out of the room, leaving two policemen feeling kinda awkward about the scene they had just witnessed. "So Mr...Corrings, I suppose...you mind telling us the truth?"
The elderly man sighed and came closer. "The truth is that...Danny did all this! Marge doesn't wanna see that, but in fact Danny spent his time in prison more than deservedly. Yeah, he was destroyed after Susan had left him...and so he was after Mary and Jen and Lana. You can believe me, I don't like saying that...but sometimes I really thought he is a psycho. Guess Susan was the first one who realized that, too..."
"When did he get outta prison?", Johnny asked, quickly casting Steve a guilty glance, only to find that he supervisor seemed to be pleased with him this time.
Mr. Corrings shrugged unattentively. "'bout one year ago..maybe...he was only here for a few days, then left again...dunno, I never got along with him very well..." He stopped as Steve and Johnny frowned. "You see, I'm not his real dad...Danny's father left the family very soon after his son was born. Ever since I was here I truly tried my best on Danny. But I haven't succeeded, I suppose..." He lowered his head.
"Might I ask you one last question?", Steve inquired.
"Yeah, of course..."
"Do you...can you imagine that Danny is capable to committ a murder?"
Color drained from Mr Corrings' face as he heard the last words. Interestingly, he didn't even make an attempt to open his mouth. He simply continued staring into the reluctant ugliness of his living room.
After a few second of gloomy silence, Steve cleared his throat. "I see...", he mumbled, sensing the answer that Danny's step-father didn't dare to speak out.
"Take the silence as what it is, Lieutenant..please...", Corrings said quietly as Johnny and Steve got up.
Steve only nodded. "Thanks for your help!" Then he opened the door and sighed relievedly when he was finally back on the street, off the property.
Back in the rent car, Johnny slumped into his seat and fastened the seat- belt quickly, though the the tires of the vehicle weren't even moving yet. "Okay, did this...you know like...help us in any way?"
Steve still felt bewildered. "I dunno...we'll have to find out. I suggest that we drive to the court and have some files handed over. Maybe the protocoll of the trial will help us find out what exactly is helpful here and what not..."
"There are so many unanswered questions...all this seems to be too much of a coincidence. The adress....Danny...that trial...isn't that a bit...constructed?"
Steve fastened his seat-belt, turned the engine on and the wheel to bring the car back onto the street. "I believe neither in coincidences nor in constructions. I fact the syllables co(n) is an enemy of mine!"
"Uhu", Johnny smiled. "Like conclusion? Concept? Concisness?"
"That's enough, Danfield!"
"Concilation? Concentration?"
"Jeeeeez..."
Meanwhile at Community General Hospital Dr Mark Sloan concernedly looked through the windows of the ICU at the scene, which he found was cute, but more than that horrible at the same time.
Susan lay in bed, connected to a whole lot of tubes and wires, her skin pale and dry, he eyes closed. Matching quite the color of the sheets, she almost seemed to be transparent, almost like a lifeless doll put into a mammoth bed.
Jesse sat on a chair, well, just about, his upper body rested on the matress at the bottom of the bed. After hours of waiting he hadn't managed to keep his eyes open any longer and now Mark didn't have the heart to wake him up. He'd rather have left his young friend there, in his dreams than ruttle him back into the reality which was right now so devasting that even the ususally so optmistic Mark Sloan couldn't help but feeling the despair crawling through his mind.
Neither Mark nor Jesse noticed the small movements at first and when they finally did, they weren't sure if it was real or still a dream...
TBC...
Thanks to Wuemsel for being the best rat I've ever known, for helping me find out when there are weekends in lower sachsen (wise-cracking not appreciated here! tehe), for her great Warlock thing and for loads of urm...cream! ;-)
And here is a special thanks to Anna who's definitly in need of a good- looking, cute, short, blond, blue-eyed doc at the moment. Maybe you know the song already! ;-) Bless you, tall stuff!
All disclaimers apply. The song "Voice Of My Blood" isn't mine, but was written and published by the German singing duo Orange Blue on the album "In Love With A Dream" in 2000. Oh btw, Hansel and Gretel ain't my figures either, they belong to some weird German brothers, called Grimm, though I guess they won't complain since they have been dead for...errr...a couple of years.
Don't know if it's worth waiting for you
Again
Don't know if it's worth telling you
About the rain inside me
Feel like I'm losing control
Of my pride
Never thought that one touch could change a life
But I guess this magic was only in me
You are the voice of my blood
The scent of my life
The gentle valley among my montains inside
Why are you building these walls
Or aren't they as high as they seem
I can't ask you 'bout golden wings
'Cause you don't know me
And I fear you wouldn't believe me the truth
But there are still some honest people in this game
What we're talking about
I guess I wasn't there
You're the voice of my blood...
Jesse had actually got what Steve was about to say even before his friend had come to finish the sentence. He had been waiting for this and, as he noticed rather surprisedly now, somehow been expecting it. Yet, his blood was pounding through his ears, he simply knew that all the things that hadn't been a matter when he had said at Susan's bedside, would become somewhat of a matter now. I quite knew about questions that were ususally asked in an attempted murder case and assumed that those he would be asked weren't going to be much more pleasant than in normal cases.
In all the haste in which thoughts rattered through his mind, Jesse hadn't realized that he had frozen in the middle of the lounge. Only the gentle touch of Mark's hand on his shoulder reminded him of where he was and dragged him back into reality. "Are you ready for this, Jess?..."
Jesse was about to nod his head, but suddenly didn't feel like lying anymore. Hell, they probably could quite figure it out themselves that you were never ready for anything like that. "No...", he answered slowly, seeing heavy clouds on Steve's face that were wrapped by understanding, though. "But...", he continued, "guess I have no choice if I wanna help..." 'And not end up being more bother than help again', he added ruefully in his thoughts.
Steve sighed inwardly. His friend seemed to have come back to his senses. So he waited until Jesse had sat down and sipped two times on his coffee, then Steve let himself sink onto a chair at the opposite edge of the table to face the young doctor who, as the lieutenant noticed horrorfiedly, looked scared. Scared of him.
Jesse indeed was terrified. Steve glance was hard, objective, he looked like that cop he always was in interrogations, searching for facts, for the inevitable truth, no matter how much coolness it demanded. But even more than he feared Steve's cop-mode Jesse was frightened of his own ex- boyfriend-mode kicking in. He could only pray that he would manage to get on with it this time. No, he wouldn't freak out! Not this time!
"Have you noticed anything about the guy who kidnapped you?", Steve started the interrogation with a huge lump in his throat.
Jesse shook his head and also at Johnny's hopeful "Anything at all?" he remained silent for a few seconds.
"Nothing...I only recall someone was pressing a cloth with chloroform onto my mouth and nose...next thing I know is that I woke up being locked in a car trunk..." Mark saw his friend grimacing in pain at the memory and felt an awful pity for him.
"Do you have any idea what your kidnapper wanted from you?", Steve asked out of routine and kicked himself for it metally as soon as he watched Jesse's head jerking up.
Jesse shot his friend a sharp, cynical glare. "Wouldn't put my finger on it, but since he locked me in a car trunk and didn't seem to have the intention to help me outta there again, I suggest that he wanted me to suffocate!", he hissed through gritted teeth.
"Alright, sorry, Jess...", Steve apologised. He didn't blame Jesse for reacting like that. Nevertheless he would go on with more hard facts that Jesse wasn't going to like. "You know that Robert Bakins was murdered..."
"Yeah...", Jesse mumbled, shadows growing visibly on his face. "Well, I assume that the man who killed Robert also tried to murder Susan and kidnapped you."
"Sounds logically to me", said the young doctor, forcing himself not even to think of becoming too emotional.
"Do you have an idea who might wants to kill Susan? Or Robert?"
Jesse shook his head. He was really trying to think of anything possible, but his head was just empty. "I don't know..."
"Why did she come to LA in the first place?", Johnny asked, believing that that was a good question. But looking into Steve's face told him that his supervisor either could hide his affection very well or wasn't too happy about his protegè's enthusiasm. "Sorry", he murmured remorsefully.
Jesse answered the question nevertheless. "I'm sorry, I don't know..." Hearing that very sentence coming out of his mouth as the only one he was able to give as information, felt rather depressing to him. He felt completely useless. Susan had never needed him, she had been stubborn and self-confident, that was why he loved her so much. And now he couldn't do anything more for her than simply say "I don't know..."
"Is there someone in her past that might...", Johnny started a new attempt, but this time Steve cut in.
"Johnny, I'm the detective, I ask the smart questions and I suggest you'll go and wait outside!"
"But..."
"Don't but me, just go!"
Johnny left the room, mumbling something about only wanting to help, and Steve, his father and Jesse remained where they were. "Steve...", Jesse started slowly, "You're not being fair. He doesn't have anything to do with this. You are mad at me, aren't you?"
Two big blue eyes met Steve who felt more and more uncomfortable in his own skin. The only thing he wanted was finally do something. "No, I'm not mad at you, I'm only impatient. I'm only trying to help. Try to think back, Jess, do you remember anything about Robert or Susan or anybody she's ever been in contact with? Uni maybe?..."
Jesse sighed deeply. He remembered Greg, Susan's can't-decide-wether-to-be- dead-or-alive-guy they had met once in Carmel. He remembered her talking about highschool friends, stuff you laughed at and then forgot, nothing to care about. "No, Steve...I don't know anything..."
Steve let out a long stressed breath, scratching his temple. "That's okay, Jess, I..."
He jumped at the crash when Jesse's head hit the table, however softly. In all his frustration the young doctor had let sink his head onto the palms of his hands and deeper until his forehead touched the wooden plate. "It's not okay. I don't know anything about her...I have no idea what to do!", Jesse told the table.
Mark and Steve glanced at each other worriedly, wishing that they would have any idea at least.
Johnny, in the meantime, was grateful for the fact that in hospitals almost every room had windows instead of walls. That made spying a lot easier than he remembered it from several Christmas Eves when he had been a little boy. He could see the despair in doctor Travis' eyes shortly before whose head stroke the table in the lounge and could even hear the words that were spoken inside. He felt slightly emberassed. Johnny being Johnny was not the kind of man who took things like being thrown-out or yelled-at personally in any way. But this was one of the very few moments when Johnny had really a huge understanding for it. Maybe he had been a bit too straight.
In his thoughts Johnny got only vaguely aware of the fact that the little group had got up and was about to leave the room. He hurried along the corridor, over to a group of chairs and quickly grabbed a magazine that was lying on a table in the waiting hall. Of course, no one would ever have guessed that he had been spying, but he just wanted to make sure that no one would get a wrong idea.
"Hey...", suddenly said someone next to him and when Johnny looked up, he saw Dr. Travis smiling friendly at him.
"Hey...", greeted Johnny.
"I think Steve's looking for you and..."
"I'd better find him before he finds me?", Johnny ended the sentence, not being able to cover an amused smile, neither was his vis a vis.
"You smoke?", Jesse all of suddenly inquired.
Johnny frowned. "No...uh...why?"
"That's good...otherwise I'd have suggested that you hold that stuff the other way round..."
Johnny now for the first time scanned the alibi-magazine in his hands. There was a picture of a cigarrette in it, but somehow it seemed...the wrong way around. The young officer blushed. "Ups...dunno, that always happens to me...I...uh...it's some kind of dyslexia, you know...at College I couldn't read some stuff and also newspapers are difficult...but the worst, really the worst are envelopments, God you can't imagine..." He laughed nervously. Somehow he got the feeling that his story wasn't very believable which, nevertheless, wasn't a fact that kept Johnny from detailing it.
So he didn't even notice the sudden glim of an up-coming idea in Jesse's eyes. "That's an idea...", he murmured.
"This is it!", Jesse, no matter how much he wanted to help, was quite reluctant when he handed the piece of paper to his best friend, who sat on the seat next to him at BBQ Bob's. "I...I don't know if it's anything, but maybe..."
Steve read the few letters that were written on the site of the paper that Jesse had shown him. Kingston Drive, Santa Cruz..."Why did you keep it?", he asked while he turned around the paper unconsciously. Probably he had been hoping to find something else there, but as the text which was not much longer than the one on the other site stroke his eyes, he pulled a face. 'Memo to myself...first think, then ask...'
Jesse had hesitated for a second, he didn't know if he should prevent Steve from turning the paper around, but by the time he would maybe have come to a decision, it was already too late. But Steve once more proved to be the best and understanding friend you could have. He didn't lose a word about it. He only threw Jesse an apologizing look and the young doctor secretly sighed relievedly. He really had no intention to explain all that. Not right now. "I thought you would maybe find something there, find somene who knows something and who can be a bigger help than I am."
"We will, Jess, I promise...", Steve answered and threw one last look at the adress to make sure he would be able to remember it later since he guessed that Jesse wanted to have the note back. However, his co-owner had jumped up from his chair and grabbed his jacket. "Gotta go, Steve, my..."
"...your shift starts off in thirty minutes?"
"How did you know?"
"It's thirty past eight. At fridays you always start working at nine...which you should change some time soon by the way if you don't wanna treat your beloved co-owner, who has also an under-paid, under-appreciated and demanding job, because of a spare-ribs-paranoia."
Jesse smiled wryly. "You police guys really have great ideas when it comes to inventing new illnesses. Sure that you ain't wasting your qualities?"
"Think scrubs wouldn't suit me!", Steve replied, giggling. He had missed that. For the first time in days Jesse seemed to be a bit relaxed. Maybe he simply enjoyed the distraction. The lieutenant couldn't blame him for that.
"Scrubs suit everybody! Think about it...Bye!", Jesse waved a good-bye and turned around to face Mark and Amanda who had just entered the still almost empty restaurant. "Hi!"
"Hi...", Mark greeted and winced already at the inevitable questions that was hidden in his best friend's eyes.
"Is there..."
But even before Mark could answer, Amanda cut in softly. "No, Jesse, I'm afraid. No change, yet!" Saying that, she stroke his arm slightly. Jesse sighed. "Okay then... see ya!"
After the door had closed behind their friend, Mark and Amanda went over to Steve who quickly informed them about the news that they may had something. During that Steve realized that he had forgotten giving the paper back to Jesse. Now his dad and Amanda were scanning the adress and also Mark, same as his son, looked at the other site of the note. It had to be Susan's writing. Reading the last words of the message, Mark and Amanda both bit onto their lips. I'm also sorry...
"Poor boy...", Mark mumbled sadly.
"Hey, Johnny, you're exactly the man I have been looking for!", Steve greeted his young protege happily the other morning, shortly after he had arrived at the departement.
"Cool...", Johnny frowned. "Looking for as in looking for a guy who's done something you're not very happy about or as in looking for a man who seems to be in need of a really big challenge?"
"We are going on a li'l vacation. Ever been to Santa Cruz?"
"The one in Mexico?!"
"Nope, you geographical genius, the one in California, but since you don't even seem to know where it is, I'll take it as a 'no'. It's some hours up the coast..."
"And what are we gonna do there?", Johnny inquired. He actually hadn't had the intention to go on any vacation.
"I'll explain that to you on the plane...which we won't get unless we ain't going now!"
Steve gleefully watched Johnny looking at him like an old car. "What? Why? Now?"
"Oh, you don't have to fly...", Steve informed him in mock amusement. "Highway No.1 is great for walks..."
Johnny sighed. "Okay, let's go...but I get the window place!"
"No problem, the I will have less trouble throwing you outta it when you get on my nerves all the time!", Steve replied sweetly.
Johnny's eyes narrowed with a glim of enjoyment in them. "You don't like bullying people of your age, do you?"
"You got me!"
Steve sighed in despair, wheeping the sweat off his forehead. Flying was, for some reasons he didn't know, exhausting and now that he was running around in Kingston Drive trying to find someone who had known Susan Hilliard he was slowly running out of committment for this tiring challenge. Johnny, however, became more and more excited with every door that wasn't opened because no one was at home, with every granny that thought they would sell newspapers and every dog that tried to bite his shoes.
Police work had got its original meaning back for him. The investigating, the questioning, without computer, without pushing files or reading lab reports.
The door they finally knocked on belonged to a rather run-down place, that secretly remembered Steve of the houses you find in those old ghost towns where there are bodies burried under the building and rats in the yard. The door first only opened a crack and two brown small eyes peered through it and the way they looked, distrustingly, cool, even made Johnnie's bright, charming smile fade within seconds.
"What do you want?", a female voice asked harshly.
'Hansel and Gretel back!', thought Steve and felt a shudder down his spine. "Urm...LAPD, Ma'am we would like to ask you a few..."
"Go away!", then the door was smashed in front of them.
Johnny raised his eyebrow. "And what are we gonna do now? Pull one of those good cop/bad cop - things?"
"You ain't talking seriously, are ya?"
"Uuuhh..nope..."
Steve knocked again. "Please open up! You might hold information which is of high importance in a running murder case. And unless you don't wanna join me on the next flight to LA, you'd better open your door!"
Indeed the door was now opened again and revealed the full appeareance of a woman in the late fifties who wasn't what you'd call slim, neither what you would call friendly-looking. "Come on in...", she murmured with a less inviting gesture.
"You know, maybe we can sort this out right here...", Steve offered. "Actually we're looking for someone who knows Susan Hilliard...do you happen to know her?"
To the lieutenant's sincere surprise the woman's eyes widened in pure emotional bewilderedness.
It was not much later that Steve and Johnny were seated in the living room which didn't look much nicer than the remaining part of the building. Screwed down chairs, an old sticky carpet, a table with deep cracks in the plate. The slight uncomfortability that both of the police men felt instantly grew with every minute that they sat on their chairs, waiting for a story that would, indeed, hold pretty much of information for them. "My son, Danny, used to go to UC Santa Cruz. He was good student...until he met this girl. Susan, you know...he had a huge crush on her, they went out a few times and then she suddenly dumped him...", she hesitated for a moment. "I can remember it as though it was yesterday. He just...wasn't the same anymore. He was destroyed, the poor boy and then..." By now tears were covering Mrs. Corrings cheeks, "then she started to blame him..."
From that second Steve and Johnny could only listen to something they didn't know if they should believe it or not. Susan had blamed Danny to be stalking her, to harass her, to frighten her. And Susan hadn't been the only one. Other girls shown up, given the same evidence, also in the trail... Danny had gone to prison.
"He was just a boy in love...", ended Danny's mother her report with tears in her eyes. "You know, he truly loved that girl. And she...she destroyed him!", she hissed a last, before she was interrupted by a sharp laughter from the entrance.
"Oh please, Marge, stop that! You that isn't true!" A middle aged man was blocking the exit, glaring down on the people that were sitting in his -and his body language left no doubt that it was his- living room. "Might I ask who you are that you're listining to my wife's lies?"
"Steve Sloan and Johnny Danfield, LAPD. We're investigating in the attempted murder case on Susan Hilliard."
The man again smiled cynically. "Oh, that explains about everything...including my wife's li'l stories which ain't the truth, I'm afraid!"
Marge all of sudden whirled around. "Stop that, Bobby!", she yelled at him, but was almost begging.
"No, I won't Marge!", he replied calmly at her break-out. "It's bad enough that you are still trying to convince yourself of Danny being a perfectly normal boy after all those years, but those people need to know the truth!"
Marge simply stared at him in shock. Then she jumped up and ran out of the room, leaving two policemen feeling kinda awkward about the scene they had just witnessed. "So Mr...Corrings, I suppose...you mind telling us the truth?"
The elderly man sighed and came closer. "The truth is that...Danny did all this! Marge doesn't wanna see that, but in fact Danny spent his time in prison more than deservedly. Yeah, he was destroyed after Susan had left him...and so he was after Mary and Jen and Lana. You can believe me, I don't like saying that...but sometimes I really thought he is a psycho. Guess Susan was the first one who realized that, too..."
"When did he get outta prison?", Johnny asked, quickly casting Steve a guilty glance, only to find that he supervisor seemed to be pleased with him this time.
Mr. Corrings shrugged unattentively. "'bout one year ago..maybe...he was only here for a few days, then left again...dunno, I never got along with him very well..." He stopped as Steve and Johnny frowned. "You see, I'm not his real dad...Danny's father left the family very soon after his son was born. Ever since I was here I truly tried my best on Danny. But I haven't succeeded, I suppose..." He lowered his head.
"Might I ask you one last question?", Steve inquired.
"Yeah, of course..."
"Do you...can you imagine that Danny is capable to committ a murder?"
Color drained from Mr Corrings' face as he heard the last words. Interestingly, he didn't even make an attempt to open his mouth. He simply continued staring into the reluctant ugliness of his living room.
After a few second of gloomy silence, Steve cleared his throat. "I see...", he mumbled, sensing the answer that Danny's step-father didn't dare to speak out.
"Take the silence as what it is, Lieutenant..please...", Corrings said quietly as Johnny and Steve got up.
Steve only nodded. "Thanks for your help!" Then he opened the door and sighed relievedly when he was finally back on the street, off the property.
Back in the rent car, Johnny slumped into his seat and fastened the seat- belt quickly, though the the tires of the vehicle weren't even moving yet. "Okay, did this...you know like...help us in any way?"
Steve still felt bewildered. "I dunno...we'll have to find out. I suggest that we drive to the court and have some files handed over. Maybe the protocoll of the trial will help us find out what exactly is helpful here and what not..."
"There are so many unanswered questions...all this seems to be too much of a coincidence. The adress....Danny...that trial...isn't that a bit...constructed?"
Steve fastened his seat-belt, turned the engine on and the wheel to bring the car back onto the street. "I believe neither in coincidences nor in constructions. I fact the syllables co(n) is an enemy of mine!"
"Uhu", Johnny smiled. "Like conclusion? Concept? Concisness?"
"That's enough, Danfield!"
"Concilation? Concentration?"
"Jeeeeez..."
Meanwhile at Community General Hospital Dr Mark Sloan concernedly looked through the windows of the ICU at the scene, which he found was cute, but more than that horrible at the same time.
Susan lay in bed, connected to a whole lot of tubes and wires, her skin pale and dry, he eyes closed. Matching quite the color of the sheets, she almost seemed to be transparent, almost like a lifeless doll put into a mammoth bed.
Jesse sat on a chair, well, just about, his upper body rested on the matress at the bottom of the bed. After hours of waiting he hadn't managed to keep his eyes open any longer and now Mark didn't have the heart to wake him up. He'd rather have left his young friend there, in his dreams than ruttle him back into the reality which was right now so devasting that even the ususally so optmistic Mark Sloan couldn't help but feeling the despair crawling through his mind.
Neither Mark nor Jesse noticed the small movements at first and when they finally did, they weren't sure if it was real or still a dream...
TBC...