Four hours into his wild goose chase, Esposito wasn't any closer to making headway when it came to finding viable camera footage.

With his feet cramping after walking several miles each way from the park entrances in question; he'd finally stopped for a hot dog, taking a moment to relish the relative quietness of a busy sidewalk full of tourists and office workers alike, a welcome distraction from the blood and gore that was awaiting him a couple blocks south of here.

Like vultures sensing a kill, he'd seen countless news vans make their way down the crowded streets, trying to catch a glimpse of a body, depict the tragedy and bloodbath for a drama-thirsty audience who wouldn't survive a day in this job if given the opportunity.

His cellphone had been quiet, meaning that Kevin was hitting roadblocks himself, doing so in the vast world of virtual information that was out there, so much data that it took a special kind of talent to sift through it all and find what was important.

Watching a small class of first graders being chaperoned by and seeing their expressions full of awe at the vastness that was Central Park; Esposito smiled for a moment, catching the eye of a little Chinese girl who returned the gesture.

To see the world in their eyes again, he mused as he finished his hot dog, throwing the leftover pieces of stale bread away along with the wax paper wrapper, then resumed his search for a building with cameras.

And while there were many that he'd come across already, half of them were nothing but decoys to keep thieves away, the others pointed in the wrong direction, making his search for the needle in the haystack more aggravating by the minute.

With his hands in the pockets of his leather coat, he walked past a few small groups of tourists, their slow pace along the busy sidewalk causing a traffic jam he had little time for.

Dodging the oncoming flow of people as best as possible, he tilted his head toward the nearby building to find a business that might feature a working camera.

But instead of a camera, he sensed a set of eyes on him.

Looking around for a moment, he almost missed several teenagers standing by a light post, watching the coming and goings intently, smiling gleefully as though they were looking for trouble.

With his expression carefully guarded, Esposito glanced directly at them, making eye contact with each of the four youngsters. All of them were white, the presumed leader built like a football player, his right-hand man tall and skinny, the rest of them wearing baggy clothes that hid most of their physique.

Barely seventeen, trying to act tough…he told himself, ready to walk past when he noticed the leader's eyes traveling to the badge he had affixed to his leather belt.

"What's with all the cops here today?", the young boy sneered, causing the rest of his group to chuckle like a pack of hyenas, "Patrols, plain clothes, you guys got nothing better to do than stroll the park? Is that how you spent our tax money?"

Seeing yet another cop brutally murdered in the span of four weeks had worn off what was left of his patience and Esposito turned to face the group, making sure to glare at each teenager for several long moments, briefly scanning them for firearms but finding no signs of any.

"You mean your mommy's tax money, jackface? Or is that the kind of shit you hear your daddy spout when he comes home drunk every night?"

He could see the fire in the boy's eyes, the willingness to argue, maybe even become physical, and Esposito was ever so ready to handle the challenge.

The last few weeks had done nothing but make him angrier at the world, hating the way things had unfolded with Sonia and the sheer carelessness with which life had continued on after she was sent back to prison.

Shortly after his suspension ended, Beckett had called him on the carpet once more, citing a recent witness interview that had made him seem too confrontational. He'd called it being direct and precise in his questioning technique, she called it borderline intimidating bahavior. He'd played the game, nodded in false agreement and pledged to be nicer, then filed it away in his thick folder of life's grievances that seemed to have piled up on him lately.

Straightening out a bunch of misguided idiot teenagers seemed right up his alley that morning, hopefully releasing some of the pent-up frustration that had followed him everywhere for the past month.

If nothing else, an altercation and some petty jail charge might teach these young punks a lesson about thinking twice before opening their mouth and doing something dumb.

He knew all about that himself.

Esposito just smiled at the leader, letting his eyes drift from the worn-out leather boots to the wide shoulders and his red, curly hair while assessing the situation, gauging his opponent's weak points and any additional defense required.

With his hands clenched into tight fists, the boy stepped forward, lips pursed, exhaling a slow breath through flared nostrils, when his skinny friend reached out a hand, grasping his arm tightly.

"He isn't worth it, Andrew. Look at him, he's just another spick cop."

Feeling his blood pressure rise instantly, Esposito moved his attention to the other boy, immediately recognizing the combover haircut and mid-century military dress shirt hiding beneath his olive jacket.

"So, you're cop haters and racists? Just standing around here all day dishing out your nonsense propaganda? Feeling good about yourself because you wear some overpriced costums you bought at the military surplus store down the road? Is that the only way you get any sort of attention because everyone in school just laughs at you?"

He could tell that his comment hit home when the boy narrowed his eyes, contemplating a fitting answer for a moment, the rest of the group circling in. One opponent was enough work, two a handful, but four would be a big job; not that it would be the first time he dealt with a mob.

Cursing himself for inadvertently stumbling from one hot mess to the next once again, Esposito flexed his shoulder muscles, feeling the adrenaline rush through his body as he fought to remain calm, dreadfully waiting for the first punch, the legal tap dance required if he was to press charges after the fact.

Eventually, much to his surprise, it never came and the leader cleared his throat, motioning for his gang to back off, but not before giggling vindictively.

"Richie is right, he isn't worth our while, guys. Let somebody else deal with him. They're a dime a dozen anyways…"

Esposito wanted to rebut, give those ignorant bigots a piece of his mind, if it hadn't been for his cell ringing, reminding him that they were in the middle of a murder investigation and that any confrontation like this, no matter how justified it was, would only serve as another unnecessary distraction.

Watching the group slowly saunter away, the leader blowing him a kiss along the way, Esposito waited until all danger had subsided before reaching into his pocket, answering his cell on the third ring.

"Javi?", came the nervous question on the other end before he could ever say a word.

"Everything ok, bro?", he asked in return and waited for his heartrate to slow down, his hands still shaking, never losing sight of the group as it disappeared amongst an assortment of tourists.

"Yeah. You just…didn't answer right away and I was getting worried. Everything ok?"

There it was.

That same fretting tone of voice that had become Ryan's staple since the whole Sonia debacle; the dreaded murder case that had opened Pandora's box to his old love life and left it for the whole world to see, especially his coworkers.

The feeling of embarrassment, along with the unwanted intrusion into his privacy still burnt deep inside, making him uncomfortable around the people he cared for so much, raising a primitive need to shelter himself from anyone who had gained such valuable information.

No, he wasn't worried about his family.

The lies he'd kept going since Sonia was first incarcerated had held steady throughout the latest fiasco, earning him nothing more than a raised eyebrow from momma as he stumbled through the explanation of why she ran away through the bathroom window.

Later, when she asked him about the cut on his forehead, he'd eagerly lied again, claiming it came from a violent offender he'd taken down, simultaneously growing concerned just how effortlessly the lies had begun to slip off his tongue.

Kevin though.

The one person who had been with him throughout the entire case had also been the one most affected by it.

He couldn't be sure if it was the few tense moments of uncertainty during his quasi capture by Sonia and her worthless boyfriend that had shaken the young detective so much, but whatever it was, whatever demons were haunting him at night, it had made Ryan incredibly nervous.

Even when they spent time together at the bar he could sense the tension, the fleeting glances, the words left unsaid as the air between them grew unbearably thick.

Esposito wanted his partner by his side, needed him more than most things in life, but lately…all he could think of was a way to escape the incessant fretting, the feeling of being treated like a child that stumbled over every rock in his way.

That wasn't him.

Bad luck might have a way of finding him every so often but he neither needed, nor appreciated the undue worry.

What he really needed was his independence and privacy.

"I'm fine.", he answered curtly, not willing to go into any sort of detail, "What's up?"

There was a brief pause on the other end before Ryan spoke again, his tone of voice drifting off as he stared at his computer screen.

"I wasn't making much progress in finding a common denominator between our victims so I spent some time looking into nearby cameras to see if I can help you out a bit. I was able to log into traffic cameras about half a block each from two of our access points. We could use them to see who was parked there or walking in and out of the area in the timeframe of our killing. Figured that might save you a few steps. We can go over it together in the office if you want to head back in."

"Sure, that'd be fantastic.", Esposito replied, feeling his senses settle down again at the faint hope of some actual progress, an olive branch they so desperately needed to prevent any more bloodshed.

"Alright then, I'll see you in a bit. Be careful."

Clenching his jaws as he hung up the phone, he made a mental note to address the fretting issue with Ryan later.

First, they had a cop killer to catch.