Healey was frowning when he returned to the garage. "One of the lab guys is on his way, but Dispatch told me our 'presence is requested immediately in Captain Olsen's office'," he groused, parroting the formality of the message. He raised his eyebrows and sighed. "Five'll get you ten O'Brien is there."
Haseejian snorted in agreement, scowling.
Healey glanced over his shoulder toward the front entrance. "Look, I want one of us here when the lab guy gets here so I'll go back to the Hall. I'll send a black-and-white to pick you up if I think I need you and, if not, you can get a ride back downtown with the lab guy. How does that sound?"
The Armenian sergeant grinned. "Are you kidding? Letting you go to bat against O'Brien…? Anytime," he laughed.
"Yeah, thanks," Healey growled dryly as he turned to leave. "Oh, ah, if you get back to the Hall before I'm free, check out Mike's office, will ya? See if you can find a trace of that… that report he was working on, the one with that composite of Nicole…?"
Haseejian nodded once. "Will do. Good luck with Gerry."
"Thanks…" He stopped and looked at his partner sadly. "You know, everything we know about this case… and I mean everything… it all still points towards Steve, doesn't it?"
Haseejian nodded slowly. "Yeah, I know…"
With a deep, sad sigh, Healey headed reluctantly for the exit.
# # # # #
It had been a long and gruelling three hours before the Assistant D.A. put the almost completely filled legal-length yellow pad on the captain's desk and uncrossed his legs, rolling his stiff shoulders as he did so. Other than a few pointed questions for clarification, he had remained silent as Steve had slowly and deliberately walked both he and Olsen through everything that had begun that night, from Linda's frantic phone call until he had found the LTD on the side of the road early the next morning after being dumped in the middle of nowhere.
All three were exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but they knew the day was not over yet, even though the sun was starting to set. They were aware the sergeants had been summoned and were hopefully on their way back to the Hall.
With a heavy sigh, O'Brien looked at the captain. "Listen, Rudy, it's getting late," he said as he glanced at his watch, "and we're nowhere near to being done here… and I'm not about to make a decision without talking to Healey and Haseejian first." He shot a quick look at Steve. "Why don't you take Steve home with you again tonight and we'll meet back here at 8 tomorrow morning?" He stared at Olsen pointedly, knowing he was risking his own career by allowing a justifiable suspect to remain at large, even if that suspect was a well-known and well-respected police officer.
The captain nodded solemnly then looked at Steve and raised his eyebrows. "Ready for another one of Marie's home-cooked meals?" he smiled warmly and Steve nodded self-consciously, realizing how far out on a limb everyone was going on his behalf.
He and Olsen were standing at the elevators when the car doors opened and Healey stepped out. There was an awkward pause as the inspector and the sergeant looked at each other, not sure if they should exchange pleasantries or not, then Healey beckoned them all a couple of feet away from the car to allow the doors to close. He stepped close to Steve and lowered his head and his voice. "Listen, ah, Norm and I talked to Mike for a few minutes this afternoon."
"How is he?" Steve tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice but his worry had been evident to everyone since he had walked into the Hall the day before.
Healey nodded encouragingly. "He's in a lot of pain, of course, but he's doing fine. Jeannie's with him. He's pretty worried about you."
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing, other than you're caught up in… procedure because of what happened in the garage."
"Do you think he believed you?"
The sergeant shrugged. "Who knows? The painkillers have him pretty doped up but he told us what he remembered." He glanced guiltily at Olsen. "Look, you know I can't tell you any more. I just want you to know that Mike's doing okay and you can stop worrying about him so much… and start worrying more about yourself, okay?"
Steve stared at him for a long beat then nodded gratefully, reaching out to lightly slap the sergeant's upper arm. "Thanks, Dan, I appreciate… everything. I really do."
Healey met the green eyes evenly then he smiled sympathetically. "Just hang in there, kid. We all know you didn't do this," he said forcefully, glancing at Olsen, who nodded softly in agreement, "and we're not going to stop until we can prove it. You understand me?"
Swallowing heavily, Steve nodded again. Healey chuckled, nodding down the corridor in the direction of Olsen's office. "I better get in there or Gerry'll think we stood him up." With another supportive smile, Healey strode away.
Olsen pushed the 'Down' button as he and Steve faced the elevator doors. After a beat, he said quietly, "He means that, you know… about none of us stopping until we can prove it."
Steve lowered his head and stared at the floor, his eyes filling with tears.
# # # # #
There was a rustling from the bed and Jeannie looked up from her paperback book to see her father open his eyes again. She stood up and leaned over the bed so he didn't have to move to see her. She smiled brightly, waiting till he focused on her before laying her free hand on his forehead.
"How are you feeling, Daddy?" she asked again, like she had done every time he'd reawakened in the three hours she'd been sitting with him. He kept drifting off, which the doctor had told her to expect for the next few hours.
"Sore," he replied softly, trying not to wince. "Hurts… to breathe…"
"I know," she soothed, stroking his forehead. "It'll get better."
"Where's Steve?" he asked again. "Why isn't Steve here?" He sounded both confused and disappointed.
"Mike, I already told you… Steve's tied up with the investigation. He can't help it. He wants to be here with you but he can't. But he's thinking about you… and he wants me to tell you he'll be here as soon as he can…" The lying was becoming easier and easier, especially when she was doing it in a good cause. Besides, it wasn't a total lie, she thought, and that was some small comfort.
She only hoped she was masking her own concern. She didn't really know anything about what was happening, but she was well aware it had to be very serious or Steve would definitely be here. And she fervently hoped she would know more before her father became more lucid and began to demand an explanation.
Staring blankly at the ceiling, Mike tried to unsuccessfully to lick his lips.
"Do you want me to get you some ice chips?" she asked, continuing to stroke his forehead. He nodded carefully and she grinned. "I'll be right back."
She could hear the argument, voices lowered but still louder than normal in a hospital corridor, before she even got out of the room. A uniformed patrolman was nose to nose with a smaller, middle-aged man in glasses, wearing a sportscoat and brown pork pie hat and holding a large notebook and pen.
"Look, I know Lieutenant Stone a victim in all this and that he's a patient here. I just need to talk to him for just -" the smaller man was whining.
"How many times do I have to tell you, you're not talking to anyone and you're not even supposed to be here!" the patrolman shot back, reaching out to grab the other man's elbow.
"Do you know who I am, young man? How dare you manhandle the press! This is police brutality!"
"I know who you are, Mr. Leist, and I was told to restrain you by any means necessary if you tried to gain access to Lieu-… to any hospital room."
"Ah ha!" Leist crowed. "So he is here! Does he know that his partner tried to kill him?!"
The patrolman began to pull the reporter down the hall towards the exit. "You have to leave, Mr. Leist, now!"
They disappeared around a corner, their voices still audible for several seconds longer.
Jeannie, who had watched it all with curiosity, was now frozen to the spot, the blood pounding in her ears so loud she could hear nothing else. Was what Jack Leist just said true? Was Steve responsible for what had happened to her father? Was that why he was being kept away? Was he under investigation, was he under arrest?
Feeling her knees buckle, she reached out and grabbed the wooden railing that ran along the wall. Her mind was reeling. Jack Leist was definitely a muckracking reporter who was popular in certain circles but, though his methods were cringe-worthy and borderline illegal, when he sank his teeth into a big story, he was rarely wrong.
That was what scared her.
Taking slow deep breaths, she started to move down the corridor in the direction of the cafeteria. She knew she needed to get her hands on a newspaper or find a radio somewhere; if Jack Leist had broken a story on his own station, it would be all over the airwaves by now. She needed to know what was really going on.
# # # # #
It was just before 10 when Healey walked into Homicide, only mildly surprised to find Haseejian waiting for him. "So?" the Armenian sergeant asked quietly as his partner approached his desk and sank wearily into the guest chair.
Healey shook his head and shrugged. "I have no idea. I told him everything we know so far, even about that mysterious 'X' on the floor Mike told us about, and that we're still waiting for the lab to tell us what was in that barrel…" He shrugged again.
"Speaking of which," Haseejian said cryptically, leaning forward to grab a piece of paper and toss it closer to the edge of the desk.
Scowling, Healey picked it up and read it quickly. "Wood ashes and some pieces of metal… four chair brackets and some nails and screws… wood screws. So, what? They're saying it was a chair?"
Haseejian cocked his head and shrugged. "That's what it seems."
Frowning, Healey dropped the paper back on the desk. "So who would burn a chair? Why would Steve burn a chair? That doesn't make sense."
"I've been thinking about that. Remember he said he was tied to chair on top of a couple of wooden pallets in the office? What if the chair that was burned was the one he was tied to? If we found that chair, then that would prove he was telling the truth, wouldn't it? So…" He shrugged, making a face. "So if the chair was destroyed, there's no proof, right?"
"But why burn it? If she's so smart, she'd know the brackets and the screws and nails wouldn't burn."
"But a barrel of ashes with pieces of metal in it, it's proof of nothing, really… it's just speculation on our part." Haseejian took a deep breath. "And with everything else stacked again Steve, this is just a drop in the bucket."
Healey sat up sharply. "Maybe not." He smiled. "Remember those pallets that were stacked against the wall?"
"Yeah."
"I found some wooden… shards in the office. I didn't think much about it at the time, but it did strike me as… unusual that pieces of wood that looked like they were from the pallets was in the office." He slapped his hand on the desk. "First thing in the morning I want to get in touch with whoever owned that building, find out if they ever stored the pallets in the office."
Haseejian smiled and nodded.
