Part Four: Questions

Steve entered the precinct building with a determined stride. Amber McPherson was not going to get away with another murder. He would personally make sure of it. He was not going to allow her to make a mockery out of himself, his father or the legal justice system. There had to be something more in the case files to help him stop her. Something to give him a clue as to her plan. Unless she truly was simply messing with him, as he'd told his father. The largest piece of the puzzle was why. Had Mark not seen the bottle fall from her purse, she never would have been suspected at all. Even on that fateful night, after she had left the scene of the crime, he'd had no inkling that anything was amiss. . .

Steve yawned as he entered his unit. Both he and his father had the early shift that morning. They'd decided to turn in earlier than usual as it had been a long day for the both of them. He'd just stepped into the room, and was reaching for the light switch when a sound caught his ear. He froze mid-yawn, suddenly alert. The noise had come from the doors leading out onto the patio.

Sinking into the shadows against the wall, he crept along toward the sounds. Someone was trying to get into his apartment! Then suddenly, the rattling stopped and he heard a soft bump. The vague shadow of a body against the outer doors accompanied the sound. The body moved slowly toward the ground.

Steve frowned. That seemed a strange motion for a burglar to make. More curious than worried, he moved toward the door and slid the curtains aside. There, settled just outside the door, was the back of a very familiar red head.

A flash of concern shot through him as he quickly unlatched and opened the doors. Amber started slightly, before turning to look up at him. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"What's wrong?" Steve demanded, going down to his haunches beside her. He gave the rear area of the house a quick instinctive once over, before checking her over as well. His gaze stopped on the basket that was partially hidden in shadow at her side. The top of a wine bottle peaked out from beneath a checked cloth.

"Nothing's wrong now." Her expression morphed into pleasure. With his help, she moved to her feet. "I came to tell you that I got a new job. I'll be starting next week."

"What?" Steve was still coming to terms with the unexpectedness of her visit coupled with the affect her presence was having on him. "Why didn't you just come to the front door?"

"I didn't want to hurt Mark's feelings," she explained as she reached for the basket containing the wine. "Especially since I was celebrating. I think he really wanted me to stay on at the hospital."

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. Amber and his father had talked several times about how the position at Community General was going. "I didn't know you were looking for another job," he said, opening the door wider so she could enter the apartment.

Amber hung back and grabbed his hand. "Why don't we go for a walk," she suggested. "I don't want to risk waking your dad."

"All right," Steve agreed easily, realizing that he was suddenly not very tired after all. He pulled the doors to his apartment shut and took the basket from her hand. "Shall we leave this here?" he asked.

"For now," she agreed, with an inviting smile. Steve followed that invitation out over the sands toward the beach. "I wasn't really looking for a job," she continued her explanation. "A friend of mine had been after me to come over at talk to the General Manager at her company. I finally gave in. He offered me a job."

"So where is this new company?"

"I'm afraid it's on the other side of LA from Community General. Which means I'll have to drive a little farther."

"And it also means that I won't be having lunch with you at the hospital anymore," Steve lamented. During the past two and a half weeks, they'd lunched together often. If not at the hospital, then nearby or at Bob's. There would be no time to make such a trip in traffic during the midday rush.

"We could always meet in the middle," she suggested, pulling him to a stop. Turning to face him, she moved up on tiptoe and wrapped her arms about his neck.

"Meeting in the middle sounds wonderful," Steve smiled lazily down at her.

"I thought you'd like that," she whispered as they closed the distance that separated them.

Steve lost himself as they kissed beneath the half moon, allowing the potency of their attraction to wash over him and flood his senses.

"I love doing that with you," she said dazedly when they pulled apart.

"Not nearly as much as I do," Steve breathed, leaning in for more, allowing his lips to trail a path down the side of her cheek and to her neck.

"Mmmm," she moaned. "You're so thorough. So very thorough."

Steve knew he murmured something against her neck, but any coherence was lost as he returned his attention to her lips. The very air seemed charged as they separated again. "Maybe we should go inside," he suggested.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Steve was startled out of his memories by a sudden round of applause and a few catcalls. His face flushed red with embarrassment. He looked up and about at his fellow officers in an attempt to figure out what was going on. Then one of the officers near the back of the room clued him in.

"Well, if it isn't Officer Steve! If it's any consolation Officer, I voted 'no'!"

Steve groaned inwardly. He should have known. He opened his mouth to rattle off a scathing comment, but Newman's door opened. The tall Captain beckoned him toward his office with a look that didn't bode well for the meeting to be a friendly pat on the back.

Clamping his mouth shut, Steve turned away from the amused detectives and followed his commanding officer into the all-too-familiar confines of his private abode. Aside from being 25 minutes late, he couldn't think of anything he'd done that might be construed as out of line. Really, this meeting could only be about one thing.

"Have a seat, Lieutenant," Newman ordered.

Steve obeyed, settling into the chair uncomfortably. Newman's expression was as unreadable as ever, giving him no clue as to whether he was about to help him or reprimand him.

Steve decided to begin the conversation. "Sir, is this about Amber McPherson?"

"Yes, it is," Newman replied. "I don't want this situation to in any way affect the job you do here. I don't want any calls from her attorney saying that you're harassing or stalking her. She has been tried and acquitted. On top of everything else -- including her interview this morning, that is the last thing this department needs. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes Sir," Steve responded with a frown. "As long as she doesn't break the law, she has nothing to worry about from me."

"You see, that's just the type of attitude I'm talking about. You don't follow her around waiting for her to break the law detective. You go about your business. And right now your business is focusing on the homeless murders. Detective Banks is out with Mickowsky following up on a lead that by all rights she should have been handling with her partner. But it turns out that her partner was out of reach and not where he was supposed to be. Were you anywhere near KKLA this morning?"

"I was, but I had my cell. . . " Steve's words trailed off as he remembered that he'd gotten a call that morning from his father.

"Yes, detective?" Newman prompted.

"I was on another call. I probably missed Cheryl's call."

"Was this other call in some way related to Amber McPherson?"

Steve bit down on his mounting frustration. "Yes, Sir," he managed. "There has to be something I can do."

"I've already been in touch with legal. They're working on it. Meanwhile, you do your job. Stay away from Ms. McPherson."

Steve nodded his understanding, though he had no intention of leaving the case alone. At Newman's nod of dismissal, he left the office and made a beeline for his desk where he proceeded to gather together everything he had on Amber.

-- -- -- --

Mark glanced up from the open refrigerator as Steve entered the kitchen and settled a stack of files on the counter. The tense set of his shoulders and the lines of strain around his mouth were silent testament to the type of day he'd had. Reaching back into the refrigerator he retrieved a beverage for his son and held it up for his approval.

Steve nodded and took the bottle. "Thanks."

Mark opened his own bottle and gestured toward the files. "That everything you have on Amber?"

"Yeah," Steve replied. "Not that I've learned anything new. And Newman made sure I was very busy today so I couldn't get much done anyway."

Mark frowned. "Captain Newman tell you to stay away from the case?" he asked. He could well imagine the kind of trouble the other man feared. He no doubt had the best interest of the police department and Steve himself in mind.

"And Amber." Steve added. "Said the last thing he needed was a stalking charge."

"He does have a point," Mark said gently. "That entire radio broadcast could have been a means of provoking you."

"I know," Steve acknowledged. "I'm sure that it was now that I think back on it. This is all a game to her. That's all it has ever been."

"No, son," Mark shook his head. "I don't think so. I think she takes this entire situation very, very seriously. I think you're right, though. She is up to something. We just have to figure out what it is before someone else dies."

"Well, we certainly agree there."

"I've been thinking about what you said on the phone. You mentioned that she always telegraphed her moves. That we never caught on to them in time. Maybe she's telegraphing again. What did she say to you? Exactly."

Steve frowned as he thought back. "Well, she said that she adored you. That she wouldn't think of harming a single hair on your head. She said that she would never try to kill you."

Mark chuckled. "I think she was telling the truth. I'm not her intended victim."

"Dad, I can't take that chance. I can't just assume that she's not just trying to lull me into a sense of security before she strikes."

Mark smiled. There was no way he could talk his son out of his protectiveness toward him. "What else did she say?"

Steve sighed, apparently deciding not to argue over whether or not Amber was going to come after him. "She said that someone else was going to die, but that she didn't know who it was."

Mark frowned. "What do you suppose that means? Why would she be trying to kill someone if she doesn't know who it is?"

"Dad, you're doing it again. You're taking the things she says at face value. She said that just to taunt me."

"Well, yeah, I'm sure she did," Mark agreed. "But I think she meant it. She really doesn't know who she's going to kill."

"So you're telling me she's going after some random person? Why?"

"No," Mark was thoughtful. "I don't think that's it. But I suppose we can rule out Darryl Tremaine."

"The kid at the hospital?" Steve looked at him oddly, then realization dawned. "He was the one who got the treatments that she felt her mother should have gotten."

"Right," Mark nodded. "But from the records, she would know who he is. Most everyone who worked in the hospital knew Darryl."

"Hmmm," Steve was obviously thinking about what he was saying. "Maybe --" His words were cut off by the ringing of the house line. Being closer, Steve picked it up. Mark knew by his sudden thunderous expression that the person on the opposite end of the line was not the bearer of good news.