Without a police radio to keep them up to date, it was only the groaning of the failing suspension of the Porsche along with the incessant vibration from a front tire out of alignment that disrupted the tense silence on their way back.
Excusing the array of mechanical noises and not hearing the infamous Mike Stone speech about getting a newer and safer car, Steve was quite aware of another bout of tension building between them. He'd kept an eye on Andre in the backseat throughout the drive, noting the kid's nervousness; even that he had moved over to sit behind Mike for added safety, while staring at him intently.
Shrugging off his growing unease about Andre's strange behavior for the time being, Steve pulled into the underground parking garage at the police headquarters, nodding cordially at the guard as he rolled the Porsche into the far east corner to park it close to the gated entrance area.
They'd just exited the small sportscar, when a faint "Thank you for the ride, Steve.", could be heard from Andre's position, a comment that surprised him more than anything. Mike noted his reaction and smiled faintly, before ushering the young man with the wavy dark hair down the garage toward the gate.
Following the odd pair with growing curiosity, Steve wondered just what it was about his partner that continued to attract him to situations where he could bestow his vast knowledge and life wisdoms upon seemingly lost young men. Perhaps Mike saw memories of his own youth in each and every single one of them. Perhaps even a chance to prevent a repetition of his own mistakes in the younger generations. Or spare them from some of the heartbreak he had to deal with.
"I never got a chance to eat lunch with Lee…", Mike said as they entered the elevators to the fourth floor, "How about I order in some pizza for the three of us and then we head back out?"
"That'd be awesome, Lieutenant!", Andre blurted out enthusiastically before immediately falling quiet again, as if embarrassed by the emotional expression.
Sharing a brief and long overdue grin with his partner, Steve nodded slowly.
"I've been starving all morning, so count me in. Just gotta make a few phone calls first."
They entered the busy hustle and bustle of the bullpen and he watched Mike direct Andre over to his office, before grabbing a glass of water for the teenager. Steve slowed down for a bit to watch his partner in his peripheral vision, intrigued with the umbrella of care he bestowed upon his latest project.
Walking over to his desk, he caught Andre staring intently at some of the war pictures Mike had in his office from his time in the Pacific. Relics of a time he was sure the Kid knew very little of.
"Steve, Lenny was here this morning and dropped off a package for you…", Sekulovich mentioned from his work station by the Teledex machine, before pointing at a small brown paper bag waiting on his desk. Nodding at the Sergeant in gratitude, he slipped off his black dress coat and loosened his tie just enough to feel more comfortable compared to the stiff atmosphere at Berkeley.
Reaching down to inspect the contents of the package, Steve wasn't surprised when his hands traced the outline of a bottle of pills, along with a piece of paper. Deciding to keep the medication hidden, he only surfaced the handwritten note, a relieved smile spreading on his lips as he read along.
"Take two of these an hour before you go to bed. Don't mix with alcohol. Flip page for breathing exercise instructions. You can do those as you try to fall asleep and even during an anxiety attack or when you start to feel one coming on. Let's talk some more next week. Call me if you need anything. Lenny."
"Another one of these browns goodie bags, I see…", Mike mumbled intrigued as he walked past, two cups in his hand and heading for his office. Although he tried to lean over to read the note, Steve knew he was too far away.
Putting the piece of paper back, he dropped the bag into his file drawer for the time being before reaching for his rolodex, looking for a couple of his stoolie's numbers to probe if any of them had heard or seen Albert.
As if on cue, his phone started to ring.
"Inspector Keller?"
"Steve, it's Murray!"
"Murray, how did you know I was in? I was just about to call you."
Sitting down at his desk, Steve balanced the receiver between his shoulder and ear as he brushed all his notes about missed calls and incoming mail aside, ensuring that he was ready for what the burly ex-bookie had to say.
"Well, I called a couple times before but some yeawhoos picked up the phone and I didn't want to leave a message because I don't know who reads your stuff. Anyways, I figured you'd be in sooner or later."
"I am glad you finally reached me. What can I do for you?"
"Well Chap, I know you guys have been after this weird murder suspect. I've seen his picture on the news..."
Snapping wide awake at a moment's notice, Steve leaned forward to reach for a pen and paper.
"We sure do. What have you got on him?"
"Well, see how you guys were chasing after him down on Kearney? Before that happened, I seen him down on Stockton and Lombard, by those old houses where the drug gangs like to hang out."
"How did you know it was him? What was he wearing?"
"He wore a dark blue pair of jeans and a dirty white jacket with black stripes on either side. Listen Steve, I know it was him, I know how to tell people apart. Anyways, I think he's hunkering down in that area someplace."
Knowing off the top of his head that this city block was right on the northern edge of their search area, Steve made a few notes on his paper, before continuing.
"What makes you think that?"
"I've seen him carrying groceries and stuff. It's a big area but I bet he is hanging around down in there someplace. Besides, he knows that area well."
"Alright, thank you so much Murray…"
"Hold on, easy Chap, I didn't say I was done yet…so I followed him south toward Green Street and halfway there, he met up with a young Kid. Didn't you guys say on the news that he maybe works with somebody? Those two were talking for quite a while…"
"A young Kid you said?"
"Yeah, I'd say maybe sixteen, seventeen, wavy brown hair, kinda like yours but a bit longer. Wore a red and brown checkered flannel shirt and blue jeans with a few holes in them."
Steve felt the breath getting stuck in his throat when he glanced over at Mike's office to verify what his mind currently couldn't comprehend.