The afternoon went by agonizingly slow.
Mike knew that Harrison's work took a lot of time, and that his great attention to detail would give them a comprehensive report which was undoubtedly one of the most important building blocks to a solid investigation.
Part of him admired the ME. Even after his many years on the job, Mike was still just beginning to understand all the arduous labor that went into the examination of the dead; the intricate search for clues on some of the most mangled and rotten corpses.
Even though time had a tendency to wash away what mattered; Harrison's work offered a unique look into the past that would otherwise be buried forever; making his findings an invaluable tool for their ongoing investigations.
Exhaling slowly, Mike awoke from his daydreaming and took off his black-framed reading glasses, taking a moment to massage the bridge of his nose in a futile effort to get rid of his stress headache.
Looking at missing persons from the Bay Area had taken up most of his afternoon. And until he heard back from Harrison, any research would be preliminary at best. As it was, the bloated face of the corpse made it disturbingly difficult to recognize any facial features to match the pictures he looked at.
Heck, it barely resembled the face of a human being.
Add in the lack of identifying marks and no ID, and their search just became a lot more complicated.
When his cup of coffee had turned cold for the third time, Mike decided on a quick break. If nothing else, it would give him a chance to check on his partner's progress.
Slowly exiting the office, his eyes settled on Steve who stood bent over, resting his elbows on his wooden desk. Reading intently off a thin file; the young Inspector was tapping a pencil against his rolodex in undisguised impatience.
As he approached his partner, Mike put a hand on Steve's lower back, careful not to startle him.
"Are you trying to get more blood to flow to your brain? Why don't you sit down to read?"
The young Inspector looked up and smiled wearily, before straightening out and stretching his stiff back.
"That's easy for you to say. You got that nicely cushioned chair. I think mine is worn past the padding. My back needed a break."
Ignoring the half-hearted complaint, Mike pointed at the stack of files on his desk.
"Anything?"
"Well…", yawning, Steve slowly shook his head, "Not a whole lot yet. I have twenty-five prospects but I won't be able to narrow it down until we get the details from Harrison. Honestly, I am afraid that this guy might not be registered missing at all."
"I have another thirty files in my office." Mike sighed and put his hands on his side. Looking down his dark blue vest and black slacks, he took a second to clear his mind of the dreadful notion that the young Inspector might be right, "And this is just the missing persons from the last five months."
Noticing his partner's brooding, Steve turned around to sit on the corner of his desk, casually balancing the coffee cup on his thigh.
"It's scary how many people vanish in this area, isn't it? Makes you wonder which ones ever get found. Or disappear forever."
Nodding slowly, Mike pursed his lips as he looked up to meet those caring green eyes.
"Human trafficking. Murder. Suicide. Runaways. You name it."
"So, what makes you so sure this one's a murder?" Steve asked genuinely and took a big gulp of coffee.
A wave of melancholy washed over the Lieutenant's features, before he cleared his throat.
"Call it a sixth sense, buddy boy. You hang around those walls here long enough; you learn to read the cards as they fall."
There was a slight shudder in Mike's voice that wasn't left unnoticed by his partner. With his jaws clenched anxiously, Steve met the Lieutenant's even gaze, both detectives sharing an unspoken sense of foreboding certainty.