Midway into ACT III, but barely at the beginning of a whirlwind of action, emotions and drama heading toward our boys. We've seen Steve's way of dealing with the heartbreaking inevitability of ending a partnership that means the world to him. But what about Mike's point of view? How is he going to handle things? Blame himself? Blame his partner for keeping these thoughts from him? Blame society? Get angry at the world? Try to steer things back to the way they were? What an utter tragic development on every angle imaginable. It puts that pain in the pit of your stomach that just won't go away. I actually stopped and started this story up a couple of times because some of the viewpoints got a little too close for comfort. As if us farmers would know anything about making difficult decisions, seeing terrible things that our souls can't handle, doing what's best for others at the expense of our own heartbreak. Yep, more times than I care to admit.
"Michael…"
Mike's head snapped up when he heard his partner's worried voice using his full first name, something he never did lightheartedly. Glancing up to see Steve lean against the doorframe to his office, decidedly three shades paler, he froze in his tracks, one hand still wrapped around his coffee cup, the other one resting on top of a closed file folder.
"What is it?", he tried, only to see Steve purse his lips and point his chin at one of their interrogation rooms.
"Have you got a minute?"
"Sure, just give me a second here…", getting back up from his desk, Mike looked down at Andre, who was intently studying one of their mugshot books, "You stay right here, I am going to be back in a bit. If you need anything, just let Sergeant Sekulovich know, ok?"
The young man nodded absent-mindedly, not too worried about the ongoing commotion. Instead, he kept his eyes on the lines of booked suspects from the past few years.
Typical teenager, Mike mused as he followed Steve into the east side interrogation room, noting his stiff posture and lack of any files or other material he usually would share in these situations.
No sooner had he entered the interrogation room, when Steve spun around to close the door behind them and then nervously stepped toward him, until their faces were only inches apart.
"Mike, I think we got a big problem…"
Meeting his partner's stern green eyes, the Lieutenant cocked his head, before frowning.
"Is this about the phone call you just got?"
"Mhm hm…", Steve said fleetingly and nervously readjusted his belt buckle, "Came from my old friend Murray. Remember, the ex-bookie?"
Nodding impatiently, Mike couldn't shake the growing unease that was starting to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end.
"He saw Albert before our units did, thinks he's hanging around somewhere down near Stockton by the old abandoned houses."
"Excellent. Did you send the unis down that way already?"
Momentarily slowing his excitement, Steve shook his head and squeezed his shoulder, before releasing a shuddered breath.
"Mike, he saw Andre talk to him."
The news his hit stomach like a boxer's fist and Mike took a step back, before reaching for Steve's shoulder and grasping it tightly, as if it would help him come to terms with the unexpected news.
"Are you sure?"
Nodding somberly, the young Inspector drew in a deep breath before continuing.
"He described his clothing and everything. It's a positive ID…I am sorry, Mike."
Putting a hand in front of his mouth, the Lieutenant glanced down for a moment, his active mind already searching for answers to explain the startling unfolding evidence. As both detectives stood there for many long moments of silent camaraderie, time was slowly but surely coming to a complete halt.
"Why would he…?"
Mike couldn't get himself to finish that question. Sensing his partner's inner turmoil, Steve reached up and grasped his elbow tightly, before clearing his throat.
"I don't know. It's too soon to tell. All I know is that we can't tell him that we know."
The comment startled Mike and he raised his head swiftly, eyes narrowed to tight slats.
"What are you talking about? We need to talk to him. Find out where Albert is hiding and what his ties are to this…this guy."
Shaking his head vehemently, Steve let go of his elbow, before pacing the length of the interrogation room.
"Mike, he's underage. If you identify him as a suspect now, Social Services will need to get involved; he will need a legal guardian by his side before you can ever even ask him a single question, his parents will need to get involved, you're talking at least a day or so of legal mayhem. And even then, he might clam up and not tell us anything…we'd be wasting a lot of precious time we currently don't have."
Letting his partner's argument sink in for a moment, Mike couldn't help but look over toward his office, his mind envisioning multiple scenarios of what might be going on here, neither of them giving him any peace of mind.
"I don't know, Steve…"
"Listen, I know you want to play things by the book as best as possible. But in this case, our killer has been using this against us. He's escaped twice now and we're about to lose another one of his kidnap victims if we don't act fast enough. We need to find this guy, and do so fast."
Rubbing his chin, Mike nodded slowly, unable to get rid of the growing unease forming in his stomach.
"So what do you want to do? Play a charade with him? See if he leads us to Albert?"
Nodding faintly, Steve gestured toward the window overlooking 3rd Street.
"He seems to trust you, so let's come up with an excuse to spend the afternoon with him, see if you can find out more about him and why he was on Green Street. In fact, we should call in Lenny, see if he can spend a minute with him. It may not be admissible in court, but it might help us find Albert. In the meantime, I will grab a couple of the unis and head down to Stockton to see if we can shake him out of his hideout."
Agreeing, albeit unwillingly, Mike crossed his arms in front of his chest and straightened out symbolically, as he waited for his partner to stop pacing.
"I want you to be extremely careful out there, is that clear? No solo chases or any of that nonsense. You're going to be following the rule book when it comes to this guy. And check in every thirty minutes."
He could see Steve preparing to argue and quickly raised his hand, quieting down any protest before it could ever be vocalized.
"No discussion! Every thirty minutes on the dot. It's for your own safety. Believe me, I want to catch this guy as bad as you do, but I want to do it right. I'll be damned if he slips through our hands a third time."