Chapter Three – Face From The Past

Steve pulled up in front of a non-descript apartment building and stopped the car.  He unhooked his seatbelt and as he moved to open the door he heard the passenger side close and smiled slightly at the thought that his 'elderly' father had once again beaten him out of the car.  He caught up with Mark and they made their way through the gathered crowd of curious onlookers and members of the media.  Steve heard his name being called and scanned the crowd for the owner of the voice.  He lifted his hand in greeting to Alexandria Thompson, a reporter for the LA Times.  "Dad, go on without me, I'm going to talk with Alex for a minute."

Mark looked at Steve and smiled a knowing smile.  "Sure, take your time, I'll see you inside."

Steve moved towards the petite attractive blonde with a welcoming smile on his face.  "Alex."

"Steve, how have you been doing?"

"Busy, and you?"

"Same old, same old, so what's the story here?"

"Well, you certainly cut through the pleasantries quickly.  Do you have an earlier deadline than normal?"

A bubble of laughter escaped her.  "No, I just wanted to make sure I asked the work question before you started trying to charm me."

Steve raised an eyebrow and smiled a devastating smile.  "Me charm?  Never."

She returned the smile.  "So, are you going to share any information?"

"Not yet, has your number changed?"

"No, it has been a long time since you called it, but it hasn't changed."

Steve's smile slipped a little and he paused for a moment before he responded.  "Alex, you know why I stopped calling, we discussed it and both agreed it was for the best."

"No, Steve, you talked and I listened, I don't remember agreeing or disagreeing."

"Alex, I'm sorry, I can't get into this now.  I'll call you later, ok?"

"Sure, but you do remember my real deadline, right?"

The smile back in full force Steve answered.  "Yes, and if I get things finished up here before then I will call and give you what I can."

"I look forward to your call," Alex responded.

.

As Steve made his way into the apartment building his thoughts drifted to his time with Alex Thompson.  He had enjoyed being with her a great deal.  She was smart, sexy and had an impish sense of humor.  Things had been going very well until confidential information on a case he was working appeared in a column Alex had written.  As the lead detective on the case, who also happened to be involved with the reporter Steve had been the subject of an investigation.  Alex had refused to identify her source which only increased the suspicion that it was Steve.  As the investigation had reached its final stages, and it appeared that Steve would face disciplinary action, one of his fellow detectives had admitted he had given Alex the information in an effort to impress the beautiful reporter.  Steve had at first been angry with Alex for not clearing him but eventually realized it was not in her nature to betray one to save another.  He had also come to realize that their relationship would always be subject to similar occurrences because of their jobs.  Hers required her to dig for any and all information and his required him to keep all but the obvious details confidential.  Thus they had decided it was best they not see each other anymore, or had they?  Alex's comments had perplexed him, he was sure she had agreed.  His thoughts were halted as he made his way into the apartment of their latest victim.  He found his father in the bedroom stooped over a dead body.  He stopped in the middle of the room and took in the situation.  On the mirror was a message written in red, the body was lying close to the bed on his stomach.  The victim was Brent Coleman, he was a little over six feet and had a muscular build.  The carpet around the body was red with blood.  The scene looked all too familiar.  Mark looked up and saw him.

.

"Steve, come take a look at this."

Steve moved across the room to join his father.  "We may have gotten a break," Mark informed him.

"What have you found, Dad?" Steve asked.

Mark motioned towards a corner of the bed and lifted the bed ruffle.  Steve squatted down to look at it closely.  It looked to be a partial footprint in blood.  "It looks small," Steve observed.

"Yes, I'd say a six or a six-and-a-half," Mark agreed.

"So, either our murderer is a woman, or our victim had a visitor after he was killed," Steve offered.  Further discussion was halted by one of the other officers on the scene.

"Lieutenant Sloan, I have someone you may want to talk with," stated Officer Campbell.

Steve looked up into the fresh young face.  Did I look that young when I started?  He looks like he should still be in high school.  "What have you got, Officer?"

"Well, I was talking with the neighbors and one of them, a Mrs. Cavanaugh, said she saw a woman leaving the apartment around 9:00pm."

"When did you get the call about the body?" Steve inquired.

"We were dispatched a little after 9:00pm.  Dispatch said it was a 911 call from a phone booth around the corner," Officer Campbell responded.

"Does CSU know about the phone booth?" Steve asked.

"Yes, I told the lead detective when they got here, he sent someone to check for prints and evidence."

"Ok, thanks, good work, where is Mrs. Cavanaugh?"

"She is in apartment 4F."

"Dad, do you want to go with me?"

"Sure, Steve," Mark responded.

Steve lifted his hand but before he could knock the door was jerked open by a plump grey haired woman.  "Mrs. Cavanaugh?"

"Yes."

"I'm Lieutenant Steve Sloan, and this is my father Doctor Mark Sloan, he is a medical consultant with the police department.  We would like to ask you some questions."

Steve suddenly felt invisible; as he had finished his introductions Mrs. Cavanaugh had latched her beady eyes on his father.  Her look could only be described as predatory.

Mark moved forward and enveloped her hand in his.  "Mrs. Cavanaugh, we are so sorry for interrupting your evening."

Mrs. Cavanaugh flushed slightly.  "Doctor Sloan, it's no problem I want to do whatever I can to help."

"Can you tell us what you saw?" Mark inquired.

"Yes, please come in," invited Mrs. Cavanaugh.

As they followed her into her apartment Steve observed the girlish glances she kept throwing at Mark and Steve groaned inwardly, it was going to be a long interview.

…………………

Steve slid into the driver's seat of his car, as Mark slid into the passenger seat.  "Did you get a date?" he questioned Mark.

Mark smiled.  "No, but I wasn't looking for one, how about you?"

"Dad, she wasn't interested in me."

"And, I wasn't talking about Mrs. Cavanaugh, I was talking about Alex."

"Dad, you know we broke it off, she was just a reporter looking for information."

Mark chuckled softy.  "Whatever you say, Son, whatever you say, when are you going to call her with the 'information'?"

Steve resisted the temptation to glare at his dad, put the car into gear and drove away from the predatory Mrs. Cavanaugh, Alex and everything else he had seen that evening.