"You're ready for some more pain meds?"
Steve opened his eyes a crack when he felt Mike's hand on his shoulder, not realizing he'd fallen asleep on the couch.
Nodding faintly and instantly regretting the move when the headache returned with a vengeance, he groaned, before holding onto the back of the couch to pull himself back into a sitting position.
"Do you ever stop and wonder what all these head injuries will do to us as we get older?"
With a warm smile, Mike handed over a couple of white pills along with a glass of water, before sitting back down across from him.
"I try not to. Unfortunately these days there's a far greater chance that we get killed in the line of duty before we'd ever get to experience the long term effects of all these severe concussions."
Ironically enough, the bitter aftertaste in his mouth caused by the pain meds mimicked the regret Steve felt about his behavior the previous night. With his best friend's eager eyes glued onto him, he hesitated for a moment and laid back down to rest his head, before summoning the courage to speak up again.
"Listen ehm…about that. So…I guess, I owe you an apology for last night and I really think…well I probably should have-"
"No you don't.", Mike shot back faster than he could finish his pleading peace offering, "What you said was true. All of it. It had to be said and…well, I am glad you were the one telling me. I appreciate it a lot, Buddyboy, believe me."
They fell quiet for a long time after the eye-opening confession, neither man willing to tread any farther on that fragile emotional tightrope, the admission of fear, buried ever so deeply beneath layers of professionalism and false optimism.
Undeniably so, both detectives were painfully aware of the potential for a fatal outcome of their best efforts at any given day; especially in a town where crimes against police officers were becoming a badge of honor amongst thugs.
And things most certainly weren't getting any better.
But for now, it seemed as though both men had come to an agreement to let sleeping dogs lie, and ignore the dance in the crosshairs of death their chosen occupation had inevitably turned into.
Putting his hands behind his head, Steve arched his back and drew in a deep breath, ready to move on from the topic for now, as his eyes traced the gold-plated light fixture on the ceiling of Mike's living room.
"You know, the one thing I can't get out of my mind is how Andrea said that it all started with that farm."
Pursing his lips, the Lieutenant shrugged, then helped himself to a sip of beer.
"Well, at this point it may have very well started there. Without Marietti present at his farm when Whittecker checked it out tonight, we have probable cause for a warrant. It's quite possible we'll find some answers there. At any rate, he just turned himself into a highly sought-after person of interest. Hopefully the APB will help locate him and that old red pickup truck."
"Yeah, but how did he find out that Andrea led us to his place? You said yourself that you never confirmed knowing that psych reader when he brought it up during conversation."
Unable to calm his nervous energy for the time being, Mike got back up and headed for the kitchen to grab a bowl of potato chips.
"Maybe putting two and two together because of her relationship with Sullenger. He could have called her up this morning, and she may have given it away. So he came down here to…to silence her."
"But what would be his motive? And why would somebody as strong as he is resort to using bricks and steel rods? I can tell you from firsthand experience that he could easily break somebody's neck with his bare hands. Besides, he said he hates people. Why drive all the way to San Francisco to kill them, when there're so many people here? Why not kill them up at the farm and…dig a hole, pretend they work for the IRS? Less witnesses anyway."
"You did get some sense knocked out of you this afternoon, didn't you?", Mike muttered good naturedly and sat the bowl of potato chips on the dining room table, offering some up to his partner although he knew Steve wasn't going to eat.
With a heavy sigh, he finally dropped back into his rocking chair, holding the bottle of beer between his knees.
"Look at it from his perspective, Buddyboy. Marietti falls in love with Williams, so he gets rid of Sullenger, hoping the grief-stricken lady would run into his arms for comfort. When she doesn't, or perhaps even finds out about the murder, he decides to get rid of her as well. You told me she considered him a creep. It's a perfect triangle."
"Unreturned love is a strong motive for murder.", Steve admitted and closed his eyes again for a few moments, waiting for the headache to subside.
"Why don't you give things a rest for the evening? It's been a long day for both of us and there's nothing more to do at the moment. We'll see if the APB has yielded anything by morning and go from there."
Opening his eyes back up, he was surprised to find Mike next to him, the thick comforter in hand, thoroughly enjoying the fatherly doting.
Even though he was unable to resist the offer to rest his body for the foreseeable future, Steve couldn't shake the gut feeling that there was more going on here than a love triangle gone wrong. If Andrea would have wanted Marietti indicted, there would have been far easier ways to lead them to the farm than pretend to see it in visions. And why kill Sullenger the morning after Thanksgiving, out in the open, if he was a regular visitor up north anyway and would have been back soon enough?
Granted, Mike's idea had a lot of legitimacy and merit, the puzzle pieces they've gathered so far fitting into it perfectly. But no matter how hard he tried, Steve couldn't envision Marietti killing these two people.
It just didn't tie.
Somewhere, in his drowsy state, as he felt Mike drape the comforter over him, he looked back at that perfect love triangle that was a bit too perfect for his liking. It was almost as if somebody was trying to frame Marietti.
And the sole person able to tell them who to look for was currently missing.