With his heart feeling decidedly heavier this evening, Mike reached for the brass doorknob of the interrogation room, giving his weeping witness a few moments of privacy he would use to brief his partner of the unexpected change of events.
Waving off the half a dozen or so faces snapping up upon seeing him, undoubtedly wanting to relay the plethora of angry phone calls, he turned right, ready to pull his partner out of his interview and yet surprised to see Steve by the water carafe, head lowered, aimlessly staring at his glass of water.
As he approached the young Inspector's lean silhouette, Mike noticed Ricky sitting with his back toward the bullpen, cradling the racoon in his arms like a life ring.
Mike stopped a couple feet short, giving Steve a chance to acknowledge him. Having sensed his presence, the young Inspector slowly turned around, his somber expression mirroring that of his partner.
"Did he tell you about the hit-and-run?", Steve asked wearily, seeing the answer in the Lieutenant's eyes long before he said anything.
"Mh-hm."
"I take it Albert wasn't able to give you a make or license plate or anything?"
"He could not.", Mike said and reached past his partner for a paper cup, treating himself to some water after too much talking, "He was in shock. Unable to provide anything that could narrow down the driver."
A flash of anger crossed Steve's face for a brief second, before he turned away, glaring at the floor as if wanting to set it on fire by the sheer intensity of his stare.
"What do you want to do next?", the young Inspector asked after a while, barely containing his resentment from bubbling to the surface.
"Well, unless you want to charge Albert for disturbing a gravesite to bury the body of his fallen friend and doing so once again a few months later to make sure the remains were still there and wanting to add some trinkets…I'd say we're at a standstill, Buddy Boy."
"Trinkets? That's what he came back for a few weeks ago?"
"Yeah…some…some golden goblet he'd bought from a pawn shop. Kind of like the ones they send around during communion.", Mike said softly, still trying to come to terms with the situation himself, "That's when Father Tenpenny must have disturbed him. So, he ran off before he could finish the job."
Drawing in a deep breath, Steve clenched his strong jaws, that emotionally charged mind about to go into overdrive.
"We could check records of any body work done across town around that time. Narrow it to front end damage, driver's side. Maybe the guy had the damage fixed. I can talk to the store owners in the area, see if they saw or heard anything nine months ago? We can see if Gerry is willing to get us a warrant for camera footage if there are any buildings in the area and-"
With a warm smile, Mike reached forward and placed his hand on his partner's shoulder, squeezing it amicably to stop him in his tracks.
"Let's drive these guys back to the shelter and call it a day, Buddy Boy. As it is, I am afraid to return to my desk."
He could feel Steve hesitate for a moment, too worked up to completely give in and yet unable to come up with a solid reason to start digging for the few answers that may or may not lie ahead yet tonight.
Much like answers to the one question Mike had posed so many times over the last few decades; why did fate put good people at the wrong place at the wrong time…over and over again.
