He was about halfway through the transcript when Pollard stepped briefly into the boardroom just to check in. "How's it going?"
Steve shrugged. "So far I don't have anything to add or change. It's all there," he punctuated his observation with a brief heft of the papers still in his hand.
"That's good. You want a fresh coffee or a Coke or anything?"
"No, thanks, I'm fine."
"Okay." Pollard headed back to the door.
"Say, ah, do you have any idea when Gerry wants to talk to Mike? I'd like to be able to tell him."
Pollard froze for a split second then took a step closer to the table. "Ah, I guess I should've told you sooner.. but Gerry won't be prosecuting your case." Steve brow furrowed. "Why not? He's the ADA of record, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is," the attorney nodded softly, "but he's recused himself. He's worked closely with both you and Mike over the past few years… very closely… and there was talk that he's, well, that he might not have his heart in prosecuting you for something he obviously doesn't believe you're guilty of." Pollard shrugged. "So he's out… and Paul Coffey is in."
Still frowning, Steve leaned back in the chair, taking this in. "I've heard of Coffey but never worked with him. He's fairly new, isn't he?"
Pollard nodded. "Came up from the San Jose D.A.'s office about nine months ago. I haven't gone up against him yet but I hear he's a real bulldog and he hasn't lost a case yet."
"Great," Steve said dryly with a helpless sigh.
"And, ah, and I don't know what his schedule is. You'll have to ask him… and I wouldn't recommend it. As a matter of fact, the only time I want you to talk to him is when he comes with the news that all charges have been dropped." The young lawyer couldn't resist a mischievous smile.
"Yeah… Well, I won't hold my breath."
Chuckling softly, a sound Steve hadn't heard as yet, Pollard left the room, closing the door behind himself.
# # # # #
"So do you really think this… re-enactment is going to jog your memory like Pollard hopes?" Mike asked as Steve refreshed his coffee cup. They were still sitting at the kitchen table, pastry crumbs on small plates the only evidence that there had once been half an apple pie for dessert.
The younger man shrugged as he put the coffee pot down. "Who knows? I mean, we've done it ourselves with varying results, right? So it just might work in this case. Anyway it can't hurt… and I'm game."
"Good for you," Mike nodded emphatically. "I think it's a great idea. And like you say, it can't hurt. So what time are they picking you up?"
"Ah, six. By the time we get from here to my place, it'll be about the time I got home that night."
"And Norm and Dan are gonna babysit you all night?"
Steve smirked. "I wouldn't call it babysitting. Pollard thinks their 'fresh professional eyes' might help in some way. And I have to admit, he could be right. And right now I can use all the 'professional eyes' I can get."
Grunting, Mike took a sip of his coffee. "Well, I want you to sleep in tomorrow, if you can. There's no need for you to get up at the crack of dawn like you've been doing. Let me make breakfast for a change; I'm up to it."
Steve stared at him soberly for a long beat then raised his coffee cup to his lips. "I'll take you up on that," he smiled before taking a sip.
# # # # #
A chill ran down his spine when he turned the LTD onto Spear and spotted the red Corolla parked in front of the garage down the block.
"That's not her car, just so you know," Pollard said softly from the passenger seat. "We didn't think it was appropriate so Charlie managed to find one just like it we could borrow."
Inhaling deeply, Steve nodded as he pulled the LTD into the lot he'd first parked in that night. "I stopped here and walked," he said, turning off the engine. "I took the flashlight with me." He leaned across the seat and opened the glove box. A flashlight was there and he picked it up before opening the door and getting out. He had been supplying a running commentary, just like his lawyer had asked, since Budzinski had picked him up outside Mike's a little less than an hour before.
Now, with the investigator in the back seat and Pollard, who had joined them on Union, beside him, he had made the trip from his apartment to the Hunter's Point garage only slightly slower than he had that fateful night, but this time without lights and sirens. They figured they were only about five to seven minutes off when the three men got out of the car and approached the garage.
It looked so much as it had before that a disorienting deja vu washed over him briefly; it was only the presence of Pollard and Budzinski that reassured him he was not, in actuality, going to relive the entire nightmare.
"I went to her car first," he said as he did so, "and it wasn't locked. I opened the door and looked in; everything seemed normal except her bag was on the passenger side floor." He was doing everything at the same time he was saying it; his heart skipped a beat when he spotted a macrame handbag exactly where he said it would be. He closed his eyes briefly; they were not missing a thing, he thought, both impressed and disturbed. It was going to be a very difficult few hours, he knew.
Healey and Haseejian were waiting just inside the garage door. Neither of them said a word as the trio, Steve continuing his stream of consciousness, stepped into the almost pitch black garage and started slowly towards the diffused light on the far side of the cavernous building.
Flashlight in hand but not on, Steve slowly crossed towards what he now knew was the office as he had done that night, talking constantly. The others trailed closely but silently behind him, not wanting to disturb his concentration in any way. He paused for a moment when he reached the office.
"I knew it was a trap… but I also knew I had to keep going if I had any hope of saving Linda's life."
This time the chill ran down everyone's spine.
# # # # #
Mike looked at the clock on the back of the stove. Steve had given him a rough breakdown of where he would be when, as a courtesy, and he looked at the handwritten itinerary once more before setting the piece of foolscap back on the kitchen table.
He had tried sitting in the living room and reading his book but when he found himself trying to read the same page for the fourth time he gave up and wandered into the kitchen. He had contemplated making a pot of coffee but that would only keep him awake, which was exactly what he didn't want.
With a heavy sigh, he got slowly to his feet. He wandered into the living room, turning off the lights behind him, picked up the hardback book and started up to his bedroom. If he fell asleep trying to read once more, then so be it. That meant the morning, and the return of his exhausted and overwhelmed partner would come all the sooner.
# # # # #
They had surmised that Steve had been unconscious for at least ten minutes after he had been struck on the back of the head, but they allowed themselves fifteen to be on the safe side. Healey and Haseejian had led their young colleague around to the door of the office and turned on the overhead light.
Steve's eyes had shot wide. There, in the middle of the office, stood a wooden armchair bolted to two stacked wooden pallets. He gasped and took an unsteady step backward.
"Is that what you remember?" Healey asked softly.
His mouth suddenly dry, Steve nodded. "Yeah… yeah, it is. Exactly."
Almost simultaneously, and unconsciously, Healey and Haseejian nodded once to themselves, brief pleased looks washing over their grave faces. Healey gestured at the chair and it took a split second for Steve to realize he was being asked to sit. As he did so, Haseejian stepped forward and for the first time Steve noticed the roll of silver gaffer tape in his hand.
Healey moved behind the chair and began to tie Steve's wrists and elbows together as his partner ripped off small lengths of tape and covered the inspector's mouth and eyes. When they were finished, both moved away.
"Are you okay?" Pollard asked. "Can you hear me okay?"
Steve nodded.
"Okay, good. You said it was less than a minute after you woke up before she pulled the tape off your mouth. We'll give it another twenty seconds, then I'll have Charlie do that and we can continue from there. Okay?"
Steve nodded again. And even though it was chilly in the garage that time of night, he could feel the beads of sweat trickle down his back between his shoulder blades.
# # # # #
The change of location hadn't done him any good and Mike found himself stuck on the same page once again. With a frustrated growl, he slammed the book shut, totally forgetting to put his marker in place, and tossed it on the floor beside the bed. He ripped the glasses from off his face and dropped them on the bedtable then turned off the lamp.
He stared up at the dark ceiling. His still recovering body was begging for sleep, he knew, but his overactive mind was blocking him every step of the way. He knew it was foolish that he was waiting to hear Steve's key in the lock; it would be early morning before the beleaguered detective would make it home at the earliest.
He closed his and tried to will himself to fall asleep.
# # # # #
They had made it through to the point where Mike had walked into Nicole's trap and she had stood over him, using his own partner's gun to shoot him at close range. By now everyone was a sweaty mess and hearts were pounding in every tightened chest.
It was one thing to hear about it, it was another thing altogether to relive it, moment by horrific moment. And as much as Pollard wanted to take a break, to give everyone, and especially his client, a brief respite from the tension, he knew they couldn't; they had to stay on schedule to make sure nothing was overlooked.
It was a brutal exercise, and one he knew he might never use again if he could avoid it. But in this seemingly hopeless case, it was the only thing he could think of to possibly trigger a memory.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly from his position on the floor, playing the now unconscious and badly injured lieutenant.
Swallowing heavily, Steve nodded rapidly.
"Okay, let's keep going."
# # # # #
He woke with a start, wincing at the sharp pain on his right side as his body jerked. Holding his breath, he sank back onto the mattress, frowning. He wasn't sure if what had awakened him was real or something he'd been dreaming. 'More of a nightmare,' he thought as he inhaled slowly, allowing the ache to recede. He took several slow deep breaths, listening intently but, not hearing anything, closed his eyes, hoping to be able to drop off again.
That was when he heard the thump. This time it wasn't in his dreams, it was on the first floor.
Someone was in the house.
