Part Three
"Nothing," Jesse said unnecessarily as he hung up the cell phone and tried to
focus out of the windshield. Since he'd picked up the phone and dialed the beach house,
Mark's car had barely moved more than several feet. "But at least we're pretty
close," he added for the benefit of his older friend. "If there wasn't so much
rain we could almost see it from here."
"Yeah," Mark murmured distractedly, adjusting a knob on the dash in an effort to
clear away some of the condensation on the windshield. "Unfortunately, it doesn't
look like its going to let up anytime--" Mark suddenly glanced sharply into the rear
view mirror, then twisted his body around for a look out of the back window.
Jesse turned in response, following his gaze. Just about the time he caught the hazy
flashing of emergency lights he heard the sound of the approaching ambulance. Both lights
and sound drew nearer as the vehicle took to the median in an effort to get around the
stagnant traffic.
"Looks like there might be some injuries," Jesse said.
"Yeah," Mark said thoughtfully.
"A day like this. An accident could be pretty nasty."
"True." Mark nodded his agreement.
"Paramedics would probably really appreciate the help."
"Police, too," Mark agreed.
"They probably wouldn't even give you a ticket for driving on the sidewalk to get to
the scene. Which from the looks of it. . . " Jesse squinted as the moving blob of
flashing lights slowed to a stop. "Mark, it looks like they're stopping just about in
front of your house. You could --"
Before Jesse could finish his statement, Mark cut the steering wheel abruptly to the right
and pulled up onto the sidewalk, following in the general direction the emergency vehicle
had taken. He drove the luxury vehicle at a pace a bit faster than Jesse might have
recommended, but he didn't argue the point. They were moving and would be coming up on the
accident scene within moments.
A policeman dressed in reflective outerwear appeared, waving frantically. Mark came to a
halt, just short of the scene and cracked his window slightly.
"Sir! You're going to have to --"
"I'm a doctor!" Mark yelled over the noise of the storm, gesturing between
himself and Jesse. "We're doctors! We can help! And I live . . . "
Mark's words faded to the periphery of Jesse's thoughts as the ambulance moved a little
farther into the scene. As it pulled around two police cars, he got a good look at the
battered vehicles. His eyes widened in stunned amazement. It looked as if a gray van had
been backing out into the road and been side swiped by a moving truck. If he didn't know
any better, he would have guessed that the van had been backing out of Mark's driveway.
Maybe that explained why they hadn't been able to reach Steve. There was no way he could
have slept through all of this activity. He was probably out in the thick of it, making
his illness worse, in an effort to help his fellow police officers.
Jesse turned to Mark to add that observation to the conversation. Mark was already rolling
the window back up tight, having convinced the officer to allow him to park in his own
driveway before coming out to help.
"You think Steve is already out here?" Jesse asked.
Mark chuckled a little, pulling the car to a halt. "Probably. Catching his death, no
doubt."
"Ready for this?" Jesse asked, opening the door a crack, preparing himself to
dash out into the pouring wetness.
"No. But we don't have much of a choice. If you see Steve first, send him inside,
even if you have to drag him. It's downright chilly out here."
"Can do," Jesse agreed and dashed out into the rain.
Mark pulled his rain hood over his head and climbed out of the car as well. He watched
Jesse run down the drive in the direction of the emergency personnel. He followed a little
more slowly, scanning the huddled figures for the familiar posture of his son.
Not seeing him right away, he headed toward the van where the paramedics and several other
people were huddled. Maybe Steve was one of them. Although, Steve should have seen him
pull into the drive if he was.
Frowning slightly, he stepped up behind Jesse where had already acquired a stethoscope and
was examining one of the young men. He took in the dark clothes and the dark skull cap.
Rather odd attire, he decided, then started to move around to the passenger side door
where the other victim was being cared for. Just as he turned, lightning flashed, and he
caught a glimpse of something in his peripheral vision.
He turned back and gasped. An intense surge of fear and intuition shot through him. There
between the driver's and passenger's seats was a switch blade. Its handle was mottled with
blood. All he could think of was finding Steve.
*
Mark backed away from the van, fighting panic. There was no reason to panic, he was being
irrational, he thought to himself. But the two people in the van were unconscious and he
couldn't speak to them and he couldn't help how he was feeling. The sight of the
blood-stained knife chilled him and he just wanted to find his son. However sick Steve
was, there was no way he wouldn't be out here helping unless he was physically unable to.
The fact he wasn't was cause for great concern. He turned towards his home and found
himself running to the front door, ignoring Jesse's call. With shaking hands, he reached
for his keys, surprised and dismayed when the door pushed opened. Steve would never leave
their home unlocked, let alone leave a door open. He walked slowly in, more than half
afraid of what he'd find. The sight that greeted him froze him momentarily to the spot.
Their usually neat and tidy living area had been ransacked; at first sight he could see
the television, video recorder and his elaborate sound system were all gone. But that
didn't matter, belongings didn't matter at all, he wanted to find the only thing that did
- Steve. He ran back to the front door and called the police officer over.
"Please, officer, come quickly!" Mark yelled, but didn't wait to see what
response he elicited. He ran back, and went downstairs to Steve's apartment. He looked
frantically around, noticing signs that his son had recently been there. He usually made
his bed in the mornings, but the crumpled sheets and messed up bedspread indicated his
recent presence.
"Steve?" Mark called out, knocking on the bathroom door before entering. He
wasn't surprised to find it empty. Steve would have called out to him had he been able. He
looked around helplessly, but still there was no Steve.
"Excuse me, sir? Is there a problem? My name is Officer Peterson." The voice
floated down the stairs to Mark and he ran back up, running into his room and checking the
other rooms as he called out to the officer.
The uniformed officer was a stranger to Mark who knew many of the local police.
"I'm Mark Sloan and I live here with my son, Steve, Lieutenant Steve Sloan, from
Homicide. I think my son was home when the robbers broke in."
Peterson interrupted. "You were robbed?"
Mark nodded impatiently. "Yes! Can't you see the damage? Those two outside probably
have their van loaded with my stuff, but I don't care about that. I'm worried about Steve
who was sick at home. There's no sign of him."
Peterson looked around. "He's a grown man, maybe he just went out."
"No, not if he was sick. And he would have to have been sick to have called in. If
you look at the van, you'll see a blood-stained knife there. I've got a bad feeling."
Peterson still didn't seem too worried. "I'll call in the robbery"
"Are you listening to me?" Mark asked in exasperation. "I am not worried
about my things. I am worried about my son. I want to find out what happened to him."
"I've got to talk to those people out there." Mark jumped at the sudden and loud
clap of thunder. The storm continued to rage, but it was nothing to the fear that was
churning in his stomach. If only he'd come home earlier, but there'd be time enough to
feel guilty. He hoped. He ran out the front door and back to the road where Jesse was
still tending to his patient.
"Where's my son?" Mark demanded, but Jesse just shook his head.
"Sorry, Mark, but he's unconscious. No, Mark . . ." Jesse called to his frantic
friend as he saw him trying to go to the other side. "He didn't make it."
Jesse flashed a look of concern to Mark as he helped move the patient to the ambulance.
Shaking his head to the paramedic when asked if he was going to the hospital with them,
Jesse turned back to Mark. They were both soaked through; Jesse had removed his coat so he
could work more easily on his patient, and Mark had forgotten to put his head cover back
on. Jesse started to grab Mark's arm to rush him back to the house, but Mark just pointed
towards the knife.
"Don't take this van away," he ordered. "This is a crime scene."
"Excuse me, Mr. Sloan?" Peterson had come out of the house. Mark and Jesse
walked up to him so they were all standing out of the rain.
Mark was very angry with this dense officer. Normally an affable and gentle man, his rare
flashes of anger took everyone by surprise. The anger he felt usually came from fear and
worry for his only son, and on this occasion he was not only deeply worried, but he was
cold and wet and desperately afraid of what had happened to Steve.
"This is a crime scene! I think you will find half my household goods in this van,
but I want to know what has happened to my son. There is a blood-stained knife lying there
and my son is missing."
Jesse rested his hand on Mark's arm, trying to calm him down.
Before anyone else could respond, Tanis, Steve's partner arrived. Drawing a deep breath of
relief, Mark knew they'd get some action now.
Tanis walked up to the tow-truck and instructed them to leave the van as it was for the
time being and then she walked up to where Mark, Jesse and Peterson were standing.
"What's going on? I heard the robbery called in."
"We've been robbed, Steve is missing and this Neanderthal doesn't seem to be taking
the fact that Steve is missing too seriously."
Tanis exchanged a glance with Jesse. "You're sure Steve hasn't gone anywhere? I know
he called in sick but he may have gone to the pharmacist to get something?" It was a
long straw, she knew as she put it into words. Mark was a doctor and would certainly have
first aid/pain killer medication around.
Mark shook his head. "He wouldn't have done it. Besides. . . " He suddenly
realized he hadn't checked to see if his truck was in the garage. He turned away and raced
to the garage. After a couple of seconds, he ran back. "His truck is in the garage!
He's got to be here." Another clap of thunder and flash of lightning and Mark watched
in despair. His bad feeling was almost overwhelming him. Knowing he had to do something,
he started to walk away.
"I'm going to find him." He walked around the house and to the porch where
several chairs had been knocked over, indicating a struggle. He walked down the steps,
knowing that if Steve wasn't inside, then he was probably outside. He shivered at the
thought of a sick, and probably injured Steve, being caught in this weather. He walked
down the steps and looked around. The rain pelting down made visibility poor. It seemed
hopeless, but Mark's determination was strong. He walked down to the beach, praying that
Steve wasn't out here.
"Steve!" He called out.
He started to despair when he thought he caught a glimmer of something from the corner of
his eye. He walked towards it, starting to run, and ignoring Jesse calling out after him.
His fallen son was lying there, out in the terrible weather and unconscious. He knelt down
beside him, shaking as he took in Steve's obviously poor condition.
to be continued . . .