"God damn it, this should never have happened!" Steve spit out through gritted teeth as he paced the small room, his hands on his hips. "You should never have let him pull that squad car from in front of the house."
"Listen, I had nothing to do with that. He asked me to put one on and I did. I had no idea he sent it away," Captain Olsen defended himself. He was just as angry but trying not to show it, as well as how perturbed he was at being spoken to in such a way by a junior officer. But he realized how shaken the inspector was and he was gracious enough to allow the young man some much needed space to vent.
Steve continued to pace, his head down.
Olsen took a deep breath. "The guys from Robbery'll let me know if they come up with anything," he offered placatingly, hoping to fend off another verbal assault.
"God damn it!" Steve muttered again under his breath.
The third person in the room, the one sitting on the examination table, raised his left hand as if in class. "So, ah, so do either of you care to hear what I have to contribute to this…? I mean, after all, it was me… and my house…"
Two pairs of eyes snapped in Mike's direction, one in angry frustration, the other with a well-contained amused smirk. The creases on the lieutenant's face even deeper than usual, the subject of their ire and concern was incongruously wearing the familiar black topcoat over his dressing gown and pajamas. And, if truth were told, the fedora didn't actually complement the slippers either.
Pausing dramatically, Mike looked at his partner and allowed a very slight smile to curl his lips. "I appreciate how… concerned you are, I really do, but I told you, I'm fine. Nothing happened really. Yes, there were two people in my house. No, I didn't get a look at them. I couldn't even tell you what sex they were, they were all in black and the lights were off. Yes, I surprised them and one of them happened to be a lot closer to me than I thought. Yes, I was pushed and fell into the bannister but I wasn't hurt, really. The x-rays prove that. I just bruised my already busted ribs so I guess my recovery has been set back a bit." He tried a slight chuckle, cutting it off when Steve's brow furrowed even more; the younger man was not amused.
Mike shrugged. "Anyway, like I said, I called for assistance and a cruiser showed up and they made sure my place was empty and then, after an argument that I lost," he glanced down at his clothes with an annoyed frown, "boy, those patrolmen can be really persuasive when they have to be - they waited till back-up got there then very nicely drove me here to get me checked out. That's all that happened, I swear." He pinned Steve with a glare. "And as for sending the car away, whoever broke into my place came through the back door after breaking the glass, which means they probably went through my back neighbors yard and over the fence, so a cruiser parked on De Haro wouldn't've been any help anyway." He punctuated the observation with a crisp nod and a frown then looked at Olsen and back again.
"Now, I'm not being admitted, so I can go home. And I would appreciate it if one of you could please do me the courtesy of driving me. I would really like to get some sleep, preferably before the sun comes up." He punctuated the statement with a yawn that surprised even him, the effort making his newly re-injured ribs protest the involuntary movement. He winced and hunched slightly, prompting both the others to take a step towards him. He raised his left hand again. "I'm okay…" he tried not to growl as he slid carefully off the examination table, wrapping his left arm loosely around his chest.
Olsen looked at Steve and raised his eyebrows. The younger man shrugged. "I don't have a car, Charlie picked me up. But I think he and Martin are still here…. They brought me," he explained to Mike. "I'm sure they'll take us home."
Olsen nodded then looked at Mike. "You sure you want to go back to your place tonight?"
The lieutenant glared at him balefully. "Rudy, whoever it was high-tailed it out of there right after I surprised them and the house was completely checked out by patrol. I want to go home… period."
The captain shrugged. "Okay. Well, let's go." Steve opened the heavy wooden door and held it for the two older men to exit ahead of him. Moving slowly, Mike trailed Steve as they headed towards the waiting room. As expected, Pollard and Budzinski were still there. Steve made the introductions.
"Ah, listen," Olsen said when he finished shaking hands, "I'm gonna get out of here." He looked at Mike. "You take it easy, you hear, and I'll talk to you sometime tomorrow… uh, later today," he corrected himself with a growl as he nodded at the others and started away.
Mike looked at Pollard with an almost guilty grimace. "I'm really sorry about all this, fellas," he began but Pollard cut him off.
"Don't worry about it, Lieutenant," the attorney interrupted gently.
"Mike… please, call me Mike."
Pollard nodded with a smile. "Of course… Mike… thanks. And I'm not worried about it, we'll get it finished." He looked at Steve. "Charlie and I were discussing things and we think it would be a good idea for you to take a couple of days off. We're basically done with the garage anyway, so we just need permission to use the car again, and borrow Dan and Norm. So we'll set everything up and let you know. How does that sound?"
Steve was listening with a frown; it was obvious he wasn't pleased about something, but none of them were sure what it was. "But we're running out of time -" he started.
Pollard raised his hands to cut his client off. "We're fine, believe me. I think we need to take a break and then come back to it fresh. And besides," he continued, shooting at look at Budzinski standing beside him, "it'll give Charlie some time to look into a couple of things."
"What things?" Steve asked, his brow furrowing even deeper.
Budzinski smiled. "Do you tell anyone when you're investigating hunches?" he shot back lightly, chuckling.
Before Steve could reply, Mike snorted a soft laugh. "Ha, that'll be the day."
The others eyeing the cop partners curiously, Steve turned to Mike with a puzzled frown. "What are you talking about? I always share everything with you."
The lieutenant was staring at him with a whimsical smirk. "Yeah, sure you do." He mimed folding a note and stuffing it into his non-existent shirt pocket then turned deliberately to Budzinski, leaving Steve staring at him in confusion. "Could we impose on you to drive us to my house? I'd really like to get home,"
Laughing openly now, the investigator nodded. "Of course I will. Come on." He turned and started across the waiting room. Smiling, Pollard gestured for Mike to precede him as he waited for Steve, who was still staring at his partner in bafflement.
"Listen," the attorney said softly as they followed the others, "I'm serious about taking the next couple of days off. I want you to forget everything as best you can and just look after your partner… I think you two could use the break. And I'll call you when we get everything set up again, okay?"
Ahead of them, Mike could hear what the lawyer was saying and he smiled to himself. Pollard was right, Steve did need a break. He was becoming more and more like a tightly coiled spring, and Mike had seen firsthand how the young man's spirit was being crushed. He was now more worried than ever that Steve really would crumble under the weight of his own guilt even moreso than if he was convicted of murder at the hands of a jury. It wouldn't matter if Steve was found innocent if Nicole's wish to destroy him had already been granted.
Mike wouldn't let that happen, he vowed to himself, no matter what it cost. With a smile, he looked at the man walking beside him. "So Steve tells me you were on the job down in L.A.?"
# # # # #
Steve closed the door after Mike had stepped over the threshold then helped the older man out of the topcoat, hanging it in the closet. Mike had taken a couple of steps towards the kitchen before Steve could reach out and lift the fedora off his head. He dropped it on the table near the door as Mike glanced back and chuckled warmly.
They had dismissed the black-and-white that was parked at the curb, guarding the house. Robbery had finished awhile ago and had already vacated the premises. Mike would check with them in the morning to see if they had found something but he wasn't expecting to learn anything he didn't already know.
There was a piece of cardboard duct-taped to the inside of the broken back window in the door. Mike looked at it with a heavy sigh, feeling his partner's presence behind him. "Well, it could've been worse, I guess."
"Did they take anything?" Steve was looking around the kitchen. Other than the obvious splotches of black fingerprint powder on the cupboard and drawer handles and on the back door, the room looked normal.
Mike shrugged carefully. "I'm not sure. I didn't have enough time to check… they really wanted to get me to the hospital," he snorted with a slow shake of his head. "But I told them I'd do an inventory as soon as I could."
Steve was nodding slowly. "Where were you when you got… pushed?"
"Oh, ah, at the table near the front door. I was trying to get to my gun. Whoever hit me was rooting around in the closet."
Steve frowned. "The closet? What in hell do you think they were looking for in the closet?"
"I have no idea. The other one was in here."
They stood in the centre of the kitchen, still looking around, trying to figure out why anyone would break into the Stone house in the first place.
"Who do you think it was?" Steve finally asked.
Mike looked over his shoulder at the younger man and chuckled. "Well, I'm pretty sure it wasn't Nicole. Number one, she works alone. And number two, she wouldn't waste her time rooting around in the kitchen or the closet. Remember the last time she was here?"
"How could I forget?" Steve snorted.
"No, I think it was someone who saw that picture of you in that… that rag."
The younger man froze. Did Mike know about the latest edition? Did someone call and tell him? He swallowed heavily. "Ah, do you really think they could figure out which house was yours?" There was a small black-and-white picture of five De Haro houses, including this one, with the new article on the inside page, but no address was mentioned and Mike's house wasn't the one in the middle of the shot.
Mike, looking at the back door, shrugged. "Who knows? They mentioned Potrero so maybe some… overly enthusiastic fan who thinks you're a dream has been prowling the neighborhood and saw you coming or going." He sounded serious but when he looked back at his partner again his eyes were dancing.
Steve managed a peeved glare but his heart was pounding.
Mike turned. "Well, I'm going back to bed." He started to move slowly towards the living room. Steve stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"You sure you're okay?"
The older man smiled warmly and nodded. "I'm sure. We'll talk in the morning, okay?"
"Okay." Steve removed his hand and watched as Mike trudged slowly to the stairs. Then he crossed to the kitchen table, sank into one of the chairs and dropped his head into his hands.
