"When it comes to looking for a needle in a hay stack, you really got it down to a fine art, Stephen…"

Bill ran a nervous hand over his mustache as Steve circled yet another city block, their trip across town taking them down Market and toward 19th Street, the handful of abandoned houses around Noe and 19th a supposed large gathering spot for the local homeless population- and with its vicinity to the cemetery, an attractive area to ask questions that nobody so far seemed to have an answer for.

The hastened pace with which several males standing on various street corners disappeared into back alleys upon recognizing them as cops spoke bands about his latest hunch.

Somewhat dreading the thought of not having Mike by his side due to his doctor's appointment; Steve pulled the Galaxie into a parking spot along 19th Street, his eyes tracing the run-down area for any obvious threats before glancing back over at Tanner.

"You ready to knock on some doors down here?"

Armed with a piece of paper listing the addresses of several abandoned houses along the road, the African American Inspector nodded and reached for the door handle, waiting for Steve to jog around the hood of the large sedan before the pair proceeded to head down the sidewalk.

Several boarded-up storefronts spoke of better times in that particular area of town, the metal bars in front of every door turning a once flourishing neighborhood into a wasteland of petty-crime, filthy alleys and carelessly discarded trash all over the place.

Rows of houses in various stages of decay lined the steep road, many of them blocked off with signs warning of the failing building structure.

"Looks like an interesting place to go to sleep at night…", Steve muttered as they passed an alley that smelled like week-old fish guts at the wharf, while carefully stepping over an assortment of needles lying in the middle of the sidewalk.

"You bet…", Tanner returned and glanced down at their sheet, "Do you want to start with 70885 or 70887?"

Shrugging at the house numbers that seemed meaningless considering that none of the buildings looked to be occupied or cared for in a long time; Steve pointed a few feet ahead, where the frayed red caution tape was fluttering wildly in the breeze.

"They all look condemned. I am sure the Building Inspector is having a hay day with these places…"

"Let's just hope the floors don't cave in while we're inside."

Bill's ominous comment made Steve nod quietly, once again reminding himself that no investigation was worth getting hurt over if the danger seemed too real.

With that notion in mind, he carefully opened the front door of the narrow three-story building, immediately taking in the scent of old, discarded food, cheap alcohol and human waste.

With Tanner flanking him to the right, he swallowed the unpleasant odor and glanced down, ensuring the floor looked stable enough, before heading toward a well-used stairwell leading to the main part of the building.

Both men fell silent, queuing their hearing to any noises, trying to detect whether or not there were any squatters around.

For the longest time, the unnerving squeaking of the compromised wood forming the stairs was the only thing disrupting the oppressive silence.

Steve was the first one to reach the main floor and let his eyes drift over the living room overlooking 19th Street, along with the discarded furniture somebody had drug up here to make themselves feel at home.

A couch with torn seating areas and a badly scratched up table were the center pieces, holding old to-go containers and balled up napkins, while three unmatched chairs stood in the back corner.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that much of the unpleasant odor was coming from this room, along with the next one over that was being used as a bathroom, despite the compromised plumbing.

Carefully walking down the narrow hallway that seemed to lead to the bedrooms, Steve stopped at a doorway with green peeling paint and peeked inside.

It was a move that ended up being a big mistake.