It had been one of the most candid conversations he'd ever had with Lenny.
And while part of him still felt a certain sense of intrusion into his private affairs, the Psychiatrist's urgent plea to at least consider the possibility of therapy to avoid his triggers from turning into tragedy hit him a lot harder than he cared to admit.
The thorough explanation had lasted for almost an hour, during which Lenny had painted a picture of how traumatic events could create undesirable reactions when new, yet similar scenarios occur, thus turning into a trigger. Between all the big words and mumbo jumbo, Mike had reminded him once again that his concern regarding Osorro was very much justified, a fact the Psychiatrist agreed to.
But when it came to the nightmares or the episodes during which he'd complete frozen up, the conversation returned to the trauma aspect.
After much going back and forth, Mike offered a compromise to achieve both, get Lenny off his case and return his attention back to his own investigation; if things would not improve over the next two weeks, and if no headway could be made to identify the charred remains in the warehouse as those of Osorro, he'd submit himself to a treatment session to keep his anxiety under control.
It was an offer that seemed to overwhelm Lenny's senses after years and years of patronizing, silencing the Psychiatrist for nearly ten seconds before he nodded sheepishly, a relieved smile playing on his lips.
And so, they'd parted ways again, much to his relief.
Mike's first trip lead to the bathroom, then, on his way back, he stopped at the water cooler, drinking half of his paper cup, before heading straight to his partner's desk.
Steve seemed preoccupied with his research, never even looking up from the file in front of him until Mike sat down in his guest chair.
"You got done, finally. I was getting worried that Lenny might never have you leave your office again."
Despite the cheerful tone, Mike could sense the underlying concern in his partner's words and nodded slowly.
"It was a good conversation, although I am not impressed with what little information he could give us on Rick and Albert. But that's Lenny for you. I finally was able to get him out of my office by promising to seek out his professional help if things don't get better in two weeks…which I know they will. What about you? Were you able to dig anything up on the elementary school records?"
"Elementary and Middle School actually.", Steve added hesitantly, letting the utterly surprising words that had been said sink in before he turned around to face his partner, "I talked to a few of his previous classmates, trying to get an idea who Corbin was, what he liked to do, that sort of stuff. The statements pretty much all support each other. He was into religion from an early age. Some of the people I talked to remembered his mother as a very caring and gentle woman, nobody ever recalled seeing his father but they heard he worked many long hours. Lester liked to talk about religion, he revered some of the characters in the Bible for their humanitarian efforts, but overall, he was an oddball kid with few friends."
"Mhm hm…", Mike mumbled and leaned back in the chair to run a hand over his freshly shaven chin, "I can't shake the feeling that he was one of these nice guys, somebody who truly wanted to do good. And for one reason or another, he crossed the wrong person. But why was he buried in De Haro's grave?"
Steve nodded, then hesitated as though a thought struck his mind. For the fraction of a second, Mike saw his partner's eyes well up with tears, before the young Inspector blinked away whatever memory had caused his reaction.
"Reminds me a lot of Benji."
Immediately understanding the young man's line of thought, Mike drew in a deep breath, then exhaled through his mouth, remembering the heartbreaking case of a good man getting killed for trying to keep his neighborhood safe.
"Yeah, who could forget Benji, eh? What a great guy."
"Yeah, he was. Hey, I still think that Hernandez is right, that he didn't kill Corbin. And if this Rick guy and Albert are innocent, why do they keep running from us? I mean, they could have at least-"
Steve was disrupted when Hassejian walked up to them, then cocked his chin toward the phone.
"You've got a call on line 3, Kid. A Doctor…Weismueller from the Forensic Odontology Lab at Berkeley?"
"Weismueller?", Mike mouthed and frowned in confusion, causing his partner to smile and shake his head.
"Ah ah ah! Not yet, Lieutenant. Swami still needs to finish his magic before he can present you with another lead."
Lifting the receiver but keeping the mouthpiece covered with his left hand, Steve ushered him away from the desk, ending their conversation with a warm smile before tending his caller.
Mike got up from the chair, patting his partner's shoulder as he walked by and headed toward the watercooler for a refill. Norm stayed alongside him until they were close to the Armenian Detective's desk, where the taller man let out a passionate yawn.
"How are you feeling these days, Lieutenant? Those…those blisters all healed up?"
Not having expected the conversation, Mike stalled until he came to a complete stop by Norm's desk, subconsciously flexing his left hand as if he had to convince himself the bandages were indeed gone.
"Things are much better…almost back to normal."
"That's great to hear. You had us worried there for a while."
Reaching forward to squeeze the Armenian detective's elbow in unspoken gratitude, Mike was about to resume his travel to the watercooler when the smell of smoke suddenly filled the bullpen.
