Another quick chapter before a strong storm moves in that might kill my internet connection for the foreseeable future. I have a love/hate relationship with storms. They force me inside so I can spend some time relaxing, writing and enjoying life. But if they get out of hand, they force me outside in the worst weather of all to keep the critters safe, fret over my crops and fight dangerous flooding. We'll see what this one brings. Mother Nature sure sounds angry.
Nick Carigio was their latest lead.
It was an idea more or less, but at least it felt like some sort of progress in a case that had rocked the entire city, a shockwave that was quickly rolling through the United States and making headline news wherever they looked.
A few minutes ago, the President of the United States himself had held a brief speech about the situation, expressing his condemnation for the senseless act of violence and his condolences for the victims' families and all citizens of San Francisco. Calls from way up in the food chain had reached the brass offices downtown, requesting case updates and offering assistance wherever needed.
Mike could feel the relentless pressure for answers in every muscle, bone and sinew of his body, the fear of a repeat attack powerful enough to put all his senses into overdrive.
And while everybody was eager to turn his city upside down looking for the monster responsible, the seasoned Lieutenant knew well enough that there was no room for such chaos in a thorough murder investigation; that due diligence and careful detective work would be their best friends to ensure a seamless arrest that would hold up in court.
On their way to Carigio's nightclub that, according to their resources, catered to a more radical crowd of highly conservative, gun-toting, taking-the-law-into-their-own-hands type of people, Steve hadn't said two words yet.
Mike knew the reason for the silent treatment too well, downright understanding the young Inspector's grudge about the order he'd been given, but knowing that the current case demanded their utmost attention and focus, something Steve wouldn't be able to provide with his mind distracted over his friends' well-being.
"You never told me how you met Hank during your time in Vice. Or why he's calling you by your middle name, which I thought only your parents, the DMV and I knew."
Gracing his off-the cuff comment with a halfhearted smile, Steve hesitated, letting his mind drift into a past his partner knew so little of. As he chewed away on his mint for a few moments longer, giving himself time to come up with the right words, Mike could see his expression soften, his shoulders visibly relax.
"I'd first met him on a D&D call when I was still in black and whites. He'd gotten into an argument with his boyfriend at the time. It happened at a bar, kind of unplanned, other patrons there got wind that Hank was…you know…homosexual and all. In the end, it turned into a huge brawl. He was mostly unhurt, just had a black eye and some bruises and I booked him, because I had to at the time. He was drunk, argumentative, and we had three witnesses stating he started the fight. I did my duty, finished my shift and went home that night. The next morning, my Shift Captain called me in, Captain Daniels, you remember him…"
"Yep, sure do. Beats me at a game of pinochle every single time.", Mike chimed in cheerfully, although it did little to prevent his partner's mood quickly growing somber.
"Anyways, so he calls me into his office the next morning to tell me that Hank almost died in jail, because a bunch of the guys from the bar brawl ended up in the same block he stayed in, you know, when they were still doing group holds for misdemeanors. Even though I'd told them during booking and clearly stated in my report what issues had caused the fight, and that I felt Hank's safety was at risk, they ignored it and put him in with the very people we'd just dragged him away from. Some of the guys downstairs got written up, my credibility was at stake for a few days until we had everything cleared up, and worst of all, Hank ended up in the hospital for a week. All that because of his sexual orientation."
"Hm."
Taking some of the pressure off his partner by staring straight ahead, Mike nodded slowly, the rest of his senses cued on Steve's every move.
"And naturally, you felt guilty about the whole situation and visited him in the hospital."
"What was I supposed to do?!", Steve shot back defensively, "I felt horrible. I knew he wasn't the one who started the brawl but I had to book him. And yet, had I turned a blind eye; he wouldn't have gotten hurt. It was a horrible situation."
"You wouldn't have turned a blind eye, Buddyboy. It's not in your nature.", Mike said soothingly and rested a hand on his partner's forearm, "You followed the book, which was the right thing to do. What happened after the fact wasn't your fault, but that of people who disregarded the information they had been given. I remember Daniels telling me about this case. You did the right thing, and there was nothing you could have done to prevent the outcome. The commendation you received for keeping the peace in such a large crowd with only your partner by your side speaks for itself."
Steve snorted disapprovingly; the set of green eyes hidden beneath his dark aviator sunglasses turning unusually distant.
"Commendation or not, what happened to Hank wasn't right. Nothing about it felt right. So yes, I went to see him, talked to him, and we became friends. Once he became…engaged with Barry and they opened that nightclub, I'd see him more often because, well…I was Vice by then and there were some questionable characters who tried to take advantage of the large crowds their club attracted; drugs, prostitution, the works."
Filing the interesting tidbit of information away in the back of his mental databank, Mike cleared his throat to answer, but flinched violently, when he watched his partner nearly rear-end a taxi sitting at a red light.
With tires screeching in protest, the large sedan came to an abrupt halt, the two occupants inside holding their breaths for a fleeting moment, expecting the thump from a collision that never came.
A warning sideways glance was all it took for Steve to snap back to reality, an apologetic smile on his face that wasn't quite as genuine as he pretended it to be.
"So you became good enough friends that he calls you by your middle name?", the Lieutenant continued to pry, knowing that the strange reference didn't fit the picture, no matter how close Steve was to some of his friends.
As expected, the young man sitting next to him only increased his defensive wall by another couple of feet, his warm eyes becoming unreadable, just like they did in a suspect interrogation. Beneath his beige overcoat and dress jacket, Mike could see the young Inspector's fancy black silk tie move with the rapid pace of his distressed breaths.
"It's just…it's something he does. It has to do with what happened to him at that night club. Using the middle name with the people he knows kind of signals that you are…well, that you are straight, not homosexual. It was common practice amongst some folks when I was at Berkeley too. Kind of clarifying things without having to come out openly. This way people leave you alone and don't come onto you. It's like showing respect."
"Interesting. I had no idea you had such far-reaching connections into that scene."
Mike had said that on purpose, eager to coax a reaction out of Steve, no matter how volatile. It was the only way he could find out if that deeply hidden chapter of his past had the potential to derail the young Inspector's focus when it was needed the most.
"It never used to be a scene. The media turned it into a scene, and society eagerly caught on. And now we're so busy categorizing people by their looks, their sexual orientation, their world beliefs, their jobs or eating habits that we've forgotten what it means to just care for somebody unconditionally and be goddamn decent human beings."
"My…did I just step on a landmine or what?"
Even Mike's facetious comment and earnest smile did little to wipe the anger off his partner's face, as Steve waved him of dismissively.
"Just forget about it, ok?"
"I'm not the one who has to forget about anything. It's you I am worried about."
The stern warning seemed to rattle Steve out of his heightened state of agitation and he glanced over at Mike bewildered, then shrugged.
"You're the one who taught me to keep the past in the past, keep it from getting into the way of our investigation, ensuring I maintain a balanced approach and professional distance. And I am doing just that."
With a worried glance that easily penetrated the wall of false confidence Steve had so carefully crafted, Mike pursed his lips, then nodded.
"I hope you'll remember that when the time comes, Buddyboy."