"Don't you have some research to do?"
Glancing up from his thick file for the fourth time, Mike tried to put as much emphasis into the question as possible. Yet, sitting there in complete silence and serenity, Lenny didn't take the bait.
"I already told you that I sent the paperwork to my team. It was more important for me to stay here."
"Why?"
Mike got up from behind his desk, glaring at the psychiatrist, as he helped himself to another cup of coffee, trying hard to disguise his trembling hands.
As he returned to his seat, Lenny never moved. Instead, his engaged brown eyes had turned warm and empathetic.
"Because…one of the many other jobs I hold around here is to be a grief counselor."
Grunting in disapproval, Mike took several long sips of coffee before answering.
"Don't you think you ought to give my partner a bit more credit than that? You always write cops off on the first sign of trouble?"
"You might as well drop the hostility, Lieutenant, it won't make me go away.", Lenny answered calmly, even forcing a faint smile, "This has nothing to do with my faith in Steve's ability to pull his neck out of a hangman's noose. It has everything to do with this line of work, the toll it takes on people and the dangers that are out of our control."
Drawing in a deep breath, Mike absent-mindedly rubbed his chin, his eyes falling back onto the file below but never making out a single word that was written down.
"You really think he's in the trunk of that car, don't you?"
"It's very conceivable yes, as much as I'd hate to think so.", Lenny admitted, his voice growing quiet, "And this time around, I really do hope I am wrong."
"Let's both hope so. He didn't deserve this. Any of this."
As his voice began to break, Mike fell quiet again, his eyes wandering outside his office and into the bullpen at the painfully empty desk of his missing partner.
They sat there for several minutes in quiet anticipation, each man coming to terms with the undeniable possibility of imminent heartbreak. Finally, at close to 5:30am, the phone rang, causing both of them to flinch.
"Homicide, Stone? You did? Fantastic. Yes, we are ready. I will get Gerry on the line right away. Perfect, thank you."
Hanging up the phone, Mike met Lenny's expecting stare with stoic indifference.
"They found Andre. If nothing else, at least he might be able to give us some answers. Doug is bringing his people from Social Services along. Once we've got Gerry here, I want you to help me interview that kid. The sooner we find his connection, the sooner-"
The phone rang again, disrupting the silence of the distinctively quiet bullpen. Without having to look up, Mike knew that all eyes were on him.
"Homicide, Stone? Lee…who is it?"
Getting up from his chair, Mike had turned around to face the city, unwilling to show any emotion in front of the people he vowed to lead through any struggles, and yet finding himself unable to function properly when the city and his detectives needed him the most.
"You sure about that?"
Stretching the phone cord as far as it would go, he leaned his head against the glass pane, feeling the rush of emotions both drain, and revitalize his senses at the same time. With his body shaking violently, he took several deep breaths, as his eyes traced the many roads ahead, the nooks and crannies their suspects could be hiding at, and the many innocent bystanders who could at any given time become another victim.
"Alright, thank you very much. Once Bernie is done, get it towed back downstairs and have Charley go over it with a fine-tooth comb. Yes, please. No, I will let him know. Thanks Lee!"
Turning back around to hang up the phone, Mike noticed that Lenny stared at him with jaws clenched, his casual façade having turned into stone as he awaited the news.
"It's our other kidnap victim. Randy Anderson. Method of murder is identical. Bernie thinks he's been dead for less than three hours. I am going to have one of the guys from Vice head over to his wife's apartment to let her know."
Exhaling audibly, Lenny ran a hand over his tired eyes, before leaning back into the guest chair, his body language relaxing significantly.
"I can't say I've ever been happier to be wrong…", he mumbled before nervously tapping his fingers against the armrest, "So what do you want to do next?"
Pursing his lips, Mike pointed his chin at the entrance door to the bullpen, before pulling up the sleeves of his dress shirt.
"We're going to grill Andre. If he has the slighted inclination as to where Al and Susan are hiding, it's time we get it out of him."