"I'm sorry, Jeannie, but we've got to do it this way. We don't have a choice."
The young woman smiled understandingly, looking up at the sergeant from under a still worried but slightly relieved brow. "It's okay, I know all about procedure. I am a cop's daughter after all, right?"
Healey smiled. "You sure are. We'll be gentle, and as soon as we're finished he's all yours."
"I know." She shared her smile with Haseejian, who looked so uncomfortable she wanted to throw her arms around him and assure him everything was going to be all right. They still hadn't told her what, exactly, they wanted to talk to her father about so urgently, but she knew it must be something to do with Steve and what had happened in the garage.
She was still very concerned that she hadn't seen or heard from her father's partner, knowing the close bond they shared, but she believed everyone's reassurances that Steve was fine, just…elsewhere. She knew what 'elsewhere' meant when used by cops… he was being detained for questioning. And that worried her more than anything; could they actually believe he could have had something to do with what happened to her father? That notion was downright ludicrous, she scoffed, though something in the back of her mind kept asking 'is it'?
Healey and Haseejian stepped towards the door of the hospital room, which was being blocked by a stern looking middle-aged doctor with his arms crossed. "Remember what I told you fellas - you have five minutes and five minutes only. And I'll be standing here looking at my watch."
They both nodded as Healey pushed the door open. "I bet he'll be," Haseejian muttered under his breath as he followed his partner into the small room.
The bed was slightly raised, and Mike's eyes were closed as they took the few steps deeper into the room. The hospital gown concealed the dressing on his left side just below his ribcage and the tape that strapped his ribs on his right. The lines in his face were deep and he looked very pale but he opened his eyes as they approached.
The sergeants smiled, mostly in relief, and Mike opened his mouth, trying to lick his lips. "Hey, fellas," he whispered weakly.
"Hey, boss, you're looking pretty good," Haseejian grinned, trying to sound cheerful but not sure he was doing such a good job. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel like hell, to be honest. It hurts to breathe," Mike managed to get out through gritted teeth. It was obvious that, despite the painkillers, he was in a lot of discomfort.
"Well, we won't be long," Healey assured, patting the lieutenant's arm lightly. "Jeannie's waiting out in the hallway but we've gotta talk to you first. You know… procedure…" He shrugged.
Mike frowned. "Where's Steve? Is he okay?"
"He's fine, he's fine," Haseejian said quickly, trying to change the subject. "It's you we were worried about. Look, ah, Mike, what do you remember? What can you tell us?"
"You mean about what happened to me?"
Both sergeants nodded.
Mike tried to shrug then stopped, grimacing. "Fellas, I have no idea. All I can remember right now is Steve called me to meet him down in Hunter's Point… in an old garage. His car was there when I got there… and another one, a small red one… Linda's, I think…" He paused, trying to take a couple of deep breaths that were obviously painful. "But Steve wasn't there and the place was dark… and my damn flashlight wasn't working properly…"
He stopped again and closed his eyes. Healey and Haseejian looked worriedly at each other but the lieutenant opened his eyes and nodded. "I'm okay…" He tried a reassuring smile. "There was this, I don't know… office I guess you could call it in the centre of the room and as I went around it, trying to find a door, I saw this 'X' on the floor…"
"An 'X'?" Healey interjected.
Mike nodded softly. "Yeah, like that reflective tape they use on road signs, only this was on the floor. As I got near it, an overhead light came on…" He squeezed his eyes closed and a pained look crossed his face; they knew this time is was emotional, not physical. "Linda… Linda was tied to a chair… she looked dead…" He exhaled slowly, biting his upper lip. "I was just about to go to her when I heard this sound… from my right… like a swooshing sound. I don't know what it was… but I don't remember anything after that… not until I woke up here…" He stared into space for a long beat then shook his head and looked up at Healey. "I'm sorry, Dan, that's all I remember."
Healey smiled comfortingly. "That's okay, Mike, that's… that's enough. So, ah, so you didn't see Steve at all?"
Mike shook his head. "But he had to have been there, his car was there."
"Right," the sergeant said softly, nodding. Haseejian touched his arm; peripherally Healey could see him glance towards his watch and nod slightly. Their time was almost up.
"Where is Steve? Why isn't he here?" Mike demanded with as much authority as he could muster.
Healey put his hand on the lieuteant's arm again. "He's fine, don't worry. Just some procedural stuff we've had to deal with because of all this," he lied, gesturing vaguely at the hospital bed. "And because of what happened to Linda…" he finished softly.
Mike stared at him. "You mean she's dead," he said flatly after a long beat. Both Healey and Haseejian nodded sadly. Mike closed his eyes again. "God damn it…"
Healey squeezed his arm. "Listen, ah, we're gonna go now, let Jeannie in here to see you. But we'll be back soon, and we'll bring Steve with us, I promise." He wanted to get out of the room before Mike pressed the Steve issue any further, knowing he would have to resort to lying, something he was loathe to do.
His eyes still closed, whether from the pain or from the realization that his partner's girlfriend had been murdered, Mike nodded softly.
Both Jeannie and the doctor were waiting for them when they exited. "Did you get what you needed?" the physician asked curtly, still irritated that they needed to question his patient so soon after he'd regained consciousness.
Healey, well aware of Jeannie's presence, held his tongue but nodded sharply. "Yes, thank you." He turned his warmest smile on Mike's daughter. "He's anxious to see you."
She laughed softly. "Not half as anxious as I am to see him," she smiled as she pushed the door open and entered the room.
# # # # #
Steve had been sitting silently in the guest chair ever since Healey and Haseejian had left for the hospital. Olsen had made several phone calls, not all of which were related to the current situation, and done some paperwork while they waited.
Eventually there was a soft knock on the door. "Come in!" the captain bellowed and the door opened almost immediately. Assistant D.A. Gerry O'Brien, briefcase in hand, stepped into the room. "Rudy," he nodded curtly in greeting as he closed the door, then looked at the young man in the guest chair. "Steve…"
The detective, who had straightened up at the sound of the knock, leaned back in the chair and nodded grimly. "Gerry…"
The D.A. took a deep breath as he set the briefcase on the floor and cocked his head. "So, which one of you is going to tell me what the hell is going on here?"
# # # # #
"Did you see an 'X' on the floor?" Healey asked as he and Haseejian got into the green Galaxie in the hospital parking lot.
The Armenian sergeant shook his head. "But that doesn't mean there wasn't one there. Mike doesn't make that kind of stuff up."
"The place is still sealed, right?"
Haseejian nodded. "With a guard."
"Then I want to check it out, right now." Healey started the car.
# # # # #
O'Brien turned the second guest chair so that he was facing Steve directly and he sat with a barely controlled angry sigh, his blue eyes flashing in Olsen's direction. "I really wish you guys had called me right away. Now we've all got all kinds of explaining to do, and I don't have to tell you, in this political climate, it's going to take a lot of fancy footwork to prove neither the police department or the D.A.'s office were trying to cover this up."
Steve took a deep breath, preparing to reply but Olsen beat him to it. "Listen, Gerry, everybody knows Steve didn't do this, that he's been framed, and we just wanted to make sure he was given a fair shake -"
"A fair shake would've been to bring the D.A.'s office in on this from the beginning so it doesn't look like you were operating under the table. Now everything we say and do is going to be dissected down to the commas we use and every syllable we utter - all of us." He paused to take a breath. "And how the hell did that sleazebag reporter find out about this anyway?"
Olsen shrugged helplessly, looking like a chastised child. "So, ah, so what can you do to help?"
"Help?!" O'Brien almost barked. "Well, it might be a little late for that… especially in the court of public opinion." He looked at Steve. "So I take it you're innocent of everything you're being accused of?"
The young man's eyes widened, surprised at the vehemence behind the D.A.'s question. "Of course I am!" he spat out angrily.
O'Brien stared at him without expression. "I want you to tell me everything you know, everything you told your colleagues," he shot another warning glance at Olsen. "I don't care how long it takes, I want to hear everything. Then I'll make a decision how we're going to proceed. But I have to warn you, you better be persuasive, because with the D.A. breathing down my neck on this, and with the public pressure that going to be on us all, if you can't convince me that you're innocent, you'll be walking out of here in cuffs. Do you understand me?"
Steve stared at him for a long beat then nodded once. "Yes, sir," he said quietly, well aware of the implications in the attorney's statement.
For the first time, O'Brien's features softened. "Okay…" He shot a reassuring glance at Olsen then asked, "Do you want Rudy to contact your PBA rep and get a lawyer in here before we start?"
Steve thought about it for a second then shook his head. "No…no, I'm good. I, ah, I trust you, Gerry."
O'Brien smiled sadly. "I hope it's well placed," he said quietly. He laid the briefcase on its side on the floor, opened it and took out a large pad and a handful of sharpened pencils. Then, crossing his legs and balancing the pad against his knee, he sat back. "Okay, I want you to start from the beginning and don't leave anything out."
# # # # #
Healey snapped the lightswitches up and every overhead lamp hummed to life; the once dark and ominous garage was suddenly bathed in light. Watching where they were stepping, the sergeants made their way to the far side of the centre office, where chalk marks on the cement floor delineated where Mike had fallen and Linda's chair had been. The small deep red pool of dried blood was still visible, but nothing else.
"If Mike fell here after he was hit by the block-and-tackle," Healey mused out loud, pointing at the chalk mark, "and he said he was about to step a little closer to Linda when he was hit… that would put him around here, right?" He pointed to the floor about six feet from where the chair had been.
Nodding, Haseejian squatted and ran his fingers over the grit on the dirty garage floor. Finding nothing, he backed up a step, still squatting, and repeated the gesture. Suddenly he stopped and looked up at his partner, lifting his hand and rubbing his fingers together. "It's sticky," he said quietly.
Healey smiled. "I'll call the lab."
