Part 3: A Sheltering Place

Amanda, stooped near the bagged hands of the female victim of one of LA's most recent crime scenes, looked up as a pair of shoes moved into her line of vision. She recognized those shoes and followed them up to the face of her friend Steve Sloan.

He acknowledged her with a quick smile which immediately turned to a frown as he gestured back toward the bodies. "I know this is an awful thing to say, but I thought they would be undressed. Is that why you called me?"

Amanda shot him a telling look as she moved to her feet, but couldn't resist chastising him slightly. "Well, since you've already admitted it's an awful thing to say. . . . "

She was glad that he had come so quickly, and that he didn't appear to be angry with her. With a slight gesture, she directed him toward a corner of the large bedroom that would put them out of the earshot of a couple of the technicians who were working nearby.

Steve followed with a curious expression, and then listened intently as she began to speak. She hadn't been sure where she wanted to start. Now that he was right there in front of her, there was no time to decide, so she just jumped in.

"Steve, I know that you and Maeve have some history together. And I know that I'm somewhat involved in that history, too." She remembered vividly the way she had accused him of being hypocritical, and of having a relationship with a married woman. He hadn't deserved to be the focus of her anger.

"Amanda," he offered a reassuring smile, "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you told me."

She smiled back at him, thinking what a great friend he was. His taking of the situation so well was only adding to the minor amount guilt she felt at calling him in the first place. "I am, too, especially since you didn't know. But I know that you were hurt by what happened. And I'm sure that it didn't help that I was so rough on you."

His smile broadened. "I survived."

"Still, I'm sorry about that. I wanted to apologize."

"Amanda, it's okay," he assured her, stressing the words this time. "Okay?"

"Okay." She chuckled at him, happy to have the incident off of her chest. Not that Steve had ever held any sort of grudge. In fact, when Maeve had returned a piece of jewelry that Steve had bought for her, he had offered it to Amanda. She had been touched by the gesture, and things had immediately returned to normal between them. It wasn't until after she had called him that morning that the memories had returned. Looking back, she was appalled at the fact that she hadn't apologized for her earlier accusations. In usual form, Steve had brushed the incident away, assuring her of his continued friendship. She smiled into his eyes, communicating her appreciativeness, before getting down to the business at hand.

"And now for the reason I called you." She led him back over to the bodies. "I know that this isn't your case, but I knew Adam, and I really want his killer to be caught."

Steve shrugged. "I don't have any argument with that."

"Well, I talked to Fred Mancini and I don't think he's going to give this case a fair shake. When I told him my findings, he barely seemed to listen, almost like he's already made up his mind. I may not agree with Maeve's opinions on certain . . . things, but I don't think it would be fair if she was wrongly accused of her husband's murder."

"So you don't think she did it?" Steve asked, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"I don't know if she did it or didn't do it. I just know Mancini thinks she did and he's barely even looked at the evidence. He's not looking to find a killer, he's looking to find ways to prove that she is the killer."

A grim expression settled over Steve's face. "So what have you found?"

Amanda opened her mouth to respond, and was surprised to see Mark appear in the bedroom door. "Hi, Mark. I didn't know you were here." Though she had to admit she had expected him to show up with Steve, she was just surprised that she hadn't seen him until then.

"Hi, Amanda," Mark greeted her. His twinkling blue eyes gave the room a once over, but Amanda knew that he hadn't missed a thing. He finally settled on the victims as he moved over near them. "You know, I would have thought . . . "

"Yeah, us, too," Steve said, his smile broadening as Mark looked again at the position of the bodies and then scanned the room, his eyes settling on the patio door where a technician was gathering samples. Steve turned an amused look in Amanda's direction, and she knew that they could both almost hear the gears going in Mark's brain.

"They were shot through the patio?" Mark asked, a frown appearing as he stepped closer to the object in question. He looked through what remained of the glass out onto the large, beautifully manicured back yard.

Steve visually followed the trajectory he thought the bullets would have taken and answered. "Yeah, it looks that way."

"The blood patterns suggest that the bodies weren't moved." Amanda added.

Mark looked downward at the ground outside of the patio, and then peered in both directions. Then he jerked as if remembering something, and then turned and headed back the way he'd come. "Oh, Steve, I'm going to go with Maeve and the detectives back to the precinct. Will you come by later and pick me up?"

Steve's brow puckered. "Sure. But Da--" Before he could speak further, Mark had made a very hasty exit.

Amanda met Steve's gaze and shrugged. Mark was up to something, and they both knew it.

~*~

"Hi Partner. I thought today was your day off." Detective Cheryl Banks smiled a greeting at him as he approached her desk. "What are you doing here?"

"Easy come, easy go." Steve returned her smile and settled in the seat across the desk from her. "I'm here with Dad. He's down in booking."

"Really?" Cheryl raised a brow. "Steve, don't tell me that your . . . "

"He isn't." Steve chuckled, knowing without her completing her statement that she was asking if his dad was being charged. Considering the number of times he'd stepped into a situation where he shouldn't have been, it was a minor miracle that he hadn't been arrested more often. "He's here for moral support for someone else being fingerprinted."

"Uh Oh," Cheryl smiled, but then frowned in confusion. "One of your cases? I really hope you weren't working today. You do deserve to rest every now and then, you know."

"It isn't one of my cases." Steve assured her, then glanced around. "It's one of Mancini's."

"Ugh." Cheryl winced. She knew about the bad blood that had been going on between the two of them, having been caught in the line of fire on one occasion. "Still no go with him, huh?"

"No." Steve sighed. "Maybe he's just burned out. It does happen." He thought of the kidnapping case again. It had changed him; he could feel some of the previous feelings returning with just the memory. Surely the case must have changed Fred in some way, too.

"Yeah, maybe." Her look clearly communicated that she had another idea of what the problem might be but was sure that he didn't want to hear it again. She had long ago told him that it was because the other detective felt as if Steve had stepped on his toes on the children's case.

Steve wasn't convinced. He thought that there had to be more to it than that. He had known and respected Fred for a long time. In fact, just before the case, he'd been invited to Fred's for a sports get-together.

"Well." He turned his attention to the scattering of files on her desk. Fred was a subject that they weren't going to agree on. "What are you doing?" He turned one of the folders in his direction and caught the name across the top. "Jarvis murder. You must really be bored. Last I checked we didn't have any leads."

"And nothing has changed since," Cheryl assured him. "But I got the ballistics report back today -- which is a no match, by the way -- and thought I'd give it another once over before putting it with the rest of the pile. Since it's my partner's day off, a certain captain thought it would be a good idea if I got all of our current cases in order."

"Oh, Cheryl." Steve felt badly that she'd been saddled with all of that paperwork because he'd been awarded with a day off that he hadn't even wanted. It hardly seemed fair that others should have to take up the slack in the meantime. "Why don't you give me a some of those. I'll look through them while I'm having a beer on the deck."

"No way." She snatched the file playfully away from him.

"Oh, come on," Steve cajoled, offering his best pleading smile as he pulled the file back in his direction. "Reviewing files, on the deck, with a beer. That is a vacation for me! You wouldn't deny me that, now would you?"

Cheryl rolled her eyes and laughed at him, but let him have the file and several others.

"Thanks." Steve smiled at her, enjoying the teasing banter.

Her expression changed slightly. "Uh oh." She spoke while pretending not to move her lips. "Here comes your dad. And his um . . . moral supportee. You sure you didn't put him up to that, Steve? She looks like your type."

"Oh, like I have a type," Steve shot at her before turning.

"My point exactly," she said to the back of his head, and then before he could respond, she was greeting his dad.

"Hi, Cheryl. Thanks, Steve," Mark said on reaching her desk.

Both Steve and Cheryl stood as Mark took care of introducing a very pale looking Maeve to Cheryl. She seemed uncomfortable in the station and was avoiding Steve's eyes. Which was fine with Steve, considering. A strained silence reigned for a moment, but was quickly filled by Mark.

"Steve. Maybe we should be going? Maeve has had a rough time. I'd like to get her back to the beach house so she can get some rest."

Steve couldn't help it. His mouth dropped open for a stunned moment. Surely his father hadn't . . . . He caught a knowing look from Cheryl and then closed his mouth. There was no use fighting this -- at least not with an audience. Especially since his father was giving him the innocent look, the one that meant he knew full well how Steve felt but was taking advantage of the fact that Steve couldn't speak openly to get his way.

Grumbling internally, he snatched the files up from the desk, bid good-bye to Cheryl and led the trio out of the precinct. At first opportunity, he and his dad were going to have to have a little chat.