Evening had come surprisingly fast and before he knew it, Steve found himself as the only soul still manning the bullpen.
It wasn't a usual occurrence by any stretch of the imagination and something about their case and the storms brewing in his private life made him dread going home.
At almost 10pm, darkness had long fallen over the City by the Bay, even the frequent wailing of sirens tearing down 3rd Street quieting down as people settled in for the night, some maybe in bed already.
Mike had called it an early night for once.
Undoubtedly, part of it had to do with him being disappointed at the way the interview with McPhearson had turned out. The other, more seasoned part perhaps saw a rare opportunity for a quiet evening during an ongoing murder investigation, knowing that long and hectic nights would return soon enough.
Steve had welcomed his decision, knowing that the solitude and silence of a quiet bullpen would do wonders to his taxed mind.
Glancing down at the report he'd typed up and finished hours ago, the young inspector chuckled quietly, recognizing the behavior he was mimicking when it came to his best friend, the stoic and deep stare at a random piece of paper, as if to suck the clues right out of it.
Except for the Leanne Harris case, where the truth seemed so frustratingly illusive still.
Off in the distance, Steve heard the unmistakable ping of the elevator as its doors opened, followed by decisive footsteps heading down their corridor. Secretly hoping that they'd pass by the large office and head over to another department, Steve was disappointed when the door of the glass walled vestibule opened with a slight creak, before the steps headed directly toward him.
"You always like sitting in the dark, Inspector?", came Simone Kammers' cheerful voice, and Steve turned around to face the tall blonde lady.
Even in the dim light coming off his desk lamp, he could see that she was tired, her shoulders slumped, small bags appearing under her eyes where a long day had taken its toll. Not that he would look any better this time a night.
With a faint smile, Steve glanced down at his hand holding the cup of coffee that had long gone cold, absent-mindedly tracing the small blue veins sticking out beneath his skin until they vanished past his wrist.
"It's a good symbolism for our current case.", he mumbled, then took a sip, cringing at the cold bitterness.
"I take it things didn't work out well with McPhearson then? That's a shame. I had my bets set on that creep."
Kammers walked past him and headed to her desk, where she dropped off a file, as well as her service revolver, badge and cuffs in preparation for calling it a night.
"Yeah, me too. But he gave us a heck of an alibi. And it checked out. Then he proceeded to let us in on what he had going on with Harris.", Steve began, leaning back to stretch his back and yawn passionately, before continuing, "Said that he was taking over some sort of mentor role for Leanne."
"You have got to be kidding me?"
"I wish. If he was lying, he sure was making it sound convincing. Says that Leanne gave him that spiel of looking for some sort of guidance beyond learning martial arts. That she didn't have too many role models in her life and needed somebody to keep her on the straight and narrow."
"He didn't say anything about taking advantage of a lonely woman desperately looking for some sort of companionship?"
Gracing her comment with a faint shrug, Steve watched Kammers slide into the guest chair by his desk, before reaching back and pulling the hairband out of her ponytail, allowing for her long blonde mane to uncurl and rest against her shoulders.
"Although that notion was kind of…following his testimony, he didn't openly say that. He did however mention that she always paid the tab when they'd go out for drinks and dinner."
"Enough said." Simone countered and shook her head, "God knows what kind of lies he put into her head over time just to keep the gravy train going."
Growing suspicious of her negative perception of McPhearson, no matter how justified it was, Steve hesitated, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against his desk.
"You ehm…you don't like him very much, do you?"
"What? McPhearson? He's a creep. Like so many of them."
The curt answer was enough to raise his eyebrows. When she noticed his reaction, Simone fell quiet, letting the uncomfortable silence linger, before clearing her throat.
"I am sorry, Steve. I am sure by now you must think I am some male-hating women's lib spokeswoman out for blood, a despot of gender equality and foe of misogyny."
Unable to hide a smile at the exaggerated description, he glanced over at the Staff Sergeant in unmasked curiosity.
"Well…are you?"
"I guess the question concerns me as much as it concerns you, for that matter.", Simone countered and smiled sadly, "Your steep career path…less than three years on the force before making it up to Homicide, the youngest detective ever to be promoted to Inspector…your partnership with the legend Mike Stone…you think any of that would have happened if you were a female?"
Pursing his lips at the old argument getting worn out these days, Steve ran a tired hand across his face, before shrugging.
"In that case, don't you think it's a little narrow-minded to assume that I achieved all these…accomplishments solely based on the fact that I am male?"
Simone's eyes widened at the irrefutable counter argument, before a broad smile spread on her face.
"Remind me not to start a debate with you. You're good, Steve."
Ignoring the compliment altogether, the young Inspector leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, as he shook his head.
"The world isn't all black and white and it certainly isn't all about male or female. Granted, times are changing and there will be ruffled feathers…but don't you think you're doing yourself a great disservice assuming that women are the only ones at a disadvantage here? When was the last time you received a condescending remark because of things like your age, having people give you funny nicknames they wouldn't dare to give older detectives…or how about the…the way you keep your hair…the people you call friends…your schooling…or which side of the fence you were on during the Vietnam War?"
His candid words made the Staff Sergeant fall silent for many long moments, her distant blue eyes growing warm, as they glistened against what little light brightened the darkened office.
"I mean, Simone, at the end of the day, you can spin that discrimination wheel whichever direction you want, get angry at the world and the…the barriers that have been put in your path. Or you can make a choice for yourself and those in the same boat as you're in and dedicate your career to…you know… breaking those barriers down, prove people wrong."