For Brigitte...

Inspector Steve Keller glanced over his shoulder towards the glass-walled inner office as he pulled the form out of his typewriter. The fluorescents illuminating the large bullpen belied the reality that the sun had long ago slipped below the horizon. As he got to his feet, the freshly typed report in his right hand, he twisted his left wrist so he could see the face of his watch. 10:42. With a tired and very audible sigh, he crossed the short expanse of linoleum tile to the glass-paneled door and opened it without knocking.

Lieutenant Mike Stone raised his head slightly from the file he was studying, looking over the top of his black-rimmed reading glasses, his face expressionless.

With a mirthless smile, Steve dropped the report onto the desk as he sunk heavily onto the guest chair, leaning back and crossing his legs before running both hands through his hair.

Chuckling softly, Mike picked up the report and set it on top of the file he'd been reading. He glanced at his own watch. HeH "That took longer than I was expecting."

With another frustrated sigh, Steve uncrossed his legs and sat forward, his elbows on his knees. "Well, I wanted to make sure I got everything in… I really don't want that bastard skating on a technicality."

The older man's smile disappeared. "Yeah, neither do I." His blue eyes flicked down to the report once more. "Listen, ah, why don't you head home, get a good night's sleep. I'll go over this then make sure it gets over to the D.A.'s office."

Steve was already shaking his head. "No, no, no, I'll wait –"

"Steve," the lieutenant cut him off, pinning him with a benevolent glare, "don't make me pull rank, okay? We've both been burning the candle at both ends on this one but it's over, right? You're taking tomorrow off, right? And so am I. So…" He picked up the report for emphasis. "So let me do my job… please… and I promise you I'll go home as soon as I finish."

The younger man was staring at him from under a furrowed brow. After a couple of silent seconds, he closed his eyes briefly and sighed softly. "All right."

Mike smiled affectionately as he watched his partner drag himself to his feet and turn towards the open door. "Enjoy yourself tomorrow," he chuckled as Steve crossed slowly to his desk and picked his jacket up from the back of the chair. "You got plans?"

Slowly shrugging on the brown tweed jacket, Steve turned back towards the office. "A couple of friends have rented a houseboat over in Sausalito; I'm going to join them for the day."

"Sounds fun," Mike called out as the younger man started towards the bullpen door. "Just don't show up with a hangover, okay?"

With a half-hearted wave over his shoulder and a sardonic chuckle, Steve hesitated at the door to the anteroom and looked back. "You sure you don't want me to stay until you finish –?"

"I'm a big boy, Inspector, I've been doing this for a long time. I don't need a babysitter." The older man punctuated his words with a wide-eyed glare and the ghost of a smile through the window of the office.

With a low chuckle and a shake of his head, Steve turned to the door. "Yes, you sure are a big boy…" he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?!"

Laughing audibly now, Steve yelled without looking back. "Nothing!"

Grumbling good-naturedly, Mike watched as the outer door closed behind his partner then, with a tired sigh, turned his attention back to the report in his hand. He leaned back in the swivel chair, putting his right foot on the open lower desk drawer, and began to read.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was startled by the loud ringing of his black desk phone. With a disgruntled scowl, he leaned forward and picked up the receiver. "Homicide, Stone," he growled, glancing at his watch.

"Mike? Holy hell, I didn't expect you to be in the office at this hour. I was gonna leave a message."

Recognizing the voice, Mike sat up a little straighter, frowning, the report dropping from his hand onto the desk. "Jerry?"

"Yeah, Mike, it's me. It's been a long time."

"Geez, you can say that again." He could feel the blood pounding in his ears and his mouth went dry. An uneasy silence settled over the phone line.

"Ah, listen, ah… you got some time?" The question sounded tentative.

Nodding automatically, Mike leaned over the desk, moving a notebook closer then picking up a pen. "Yeah… yeah, sure, Jerry, what do you need?" he answered almost carefully.

There was another uncomfortable pause and Mike could hear the other man clear his throat.

"I, ah, I think I found him, Mike."

# # # # #

Steve opened the Homicide door and stepped through the small anteroom into the bustling bullpen. Sergeant Dan Healey looked up from his desk and nodded. "Well, good morning. Nice of you to join us," he chuckled, glancing at his partner and shaking his head.

"Yeah," Sergeant Norm Haseejian growled with a gravelly laugh, "must be nice being the boss's partner and setting your own hours."

Steve knew they were joking but that didn't stop him bestowing upon them his best smirk as he crossed to his desk and slipped off his jacket, dropping it onto the back of the chair. As he picked up the few phone messages stuffed under his phone, he glanced towards the inner office. It was unoccupied; the lights were on but the coat rack was empty.

He looked back at the two sergeants. "Mike's not in yet?"

They both shook their heads.

Frowning, Steve quickly glanced through the phone messages, none of which from his partner. He looked up to see Haseejian staring at him with a confused frown. "What?" he shrugged a question.

The Armenian sergeant opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by Lieutenant Roy Devitt, a file folder in one hand, entering the bullpen in a rush, almost sliding to a stop in front of the young inspector. "Oh, Steve, hi. Glad you're in. There's a little niggly thing in that Robinson report the D.A. wanted me to ask you about." He grinned. "Perfect timing," he chuckled as he continued on through the bullpen towards the inner office.

Tossing the file onto Mike's desk, he quickly slipped off his jacket and hung it on the rack before crossing behind the desk and sitting. He glanced up and smiled as Steve appeared almost tentatively in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

"Where's Mike?"

Devitt frowned, the smile lingering. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Steve began slowly, "where's my partner?"

The lieutenant sat back slightly, the frown deepening. "You don't know?"

Eyes narrowing, Steve took a step deeper into the small room. "Know what?"

"He's taking the next two weeks off. He called Rudy yesterday morning and told him he was going to be taking the next two weeks off and was going out of town." He paused and cocked his head slightly. "He didn't tell you?"

Steve blinked quickly a couple of times, shaking his head slightly, as if trying to wake himself up. "I, ah, I was on a houseboat over in Sausalito all day yesterday, didn't get home till around midnight."

"Hunh," Devitt grunted, his eyes dropping back to the desk as he opened the file folder, "I thought he woulda left you a message or something…" He glanced up then pointed at the guest chair. "Grab a seat, this won't take long…"

# # # # #

Devitt had been right; it hadn't taken long. Back at his desk, Steve tried to find any clues that Mike might have left to explain the quick and unexpected decision to take a couple of weeks off. He usually saved his vacation time to correspond with his daughter's breaks from university, but Jeannie's summer holiday wasn't going to begin for another three weeks.

Could something have happened to Jeannie that necessitated his going to Arizona on such short notice? he wondered. Not likely; Mike would've gotten in touch with him one way or another if that was the case. Jeannie was like Steve's little sister, and Mike knew how much they cared about each other.

He had stopped by the De Haro house that morning on the way in to Bryant Street to see if his partner had wanted a lift, but there had been no answer when he knocked on the door. It was then he realized Mike's familiar blue sedan wasn't parked anywhere on the hilly street so he had just assumed his partner had already left for the Hall.

Getting up quickly, he grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair and crossed quickly to the inner office door, starting to roll his sleeves down. Devitt looked up. "Ah, listen, Roy, there's a couple of things I need to get done on a case that Mike and I have going that's still open. I'll be gone a couple of hours."

Devitt had started nodding before all the words were out. "Don't think you have to run everything by me. Take whatever time you need. Things are pretty quiet around here right now and, if I'm not mistaken, Dan and Norm are at the top of the list for the next case so…" He shrugged.

Steve smiled as he did up the cuff button of his left sleeve and began to slip into the jacket. "Thanks. I won't be too long."

# # # # #

He dropped heavily onto the couch and looked around the small neat living room one more time. He had let himself into the house with the key Mike had given him long ago. And if he had expected to find anything that would tell him where his partner had disappeared to, he was sorely disappointed. As far as he could tell, a suitcase and some of Mike's clothes were missing, corroborating what Devitt had told him, but there was nothing to indicate where he had gone.

And that was what bothered him more than anything. It was as if his partner, a man he knew so well, probably better than anyone else in his life right now, had deliberately gone out of his way to make sure that he left behind no clue as to where he had gone, or why.

Sighing heavily, Steve leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and dropped his head. He knew he had to call Jeannie, to see if Mike's daughter could shed some light on what was going on. But he also realized that if Mike had kept Jeannie in the dark as well, his call, coming out of the blue, might only serve to unsettle the young woman so much she could drop everything and come home, for which Mike would be furious.

He sat back and glanced at his watch. It was too early to call; she would probably be in class. With another sigh, he got up and crossed to the front door to let himself out. He had a few hours to come up with a legitimate excuse to call her without tipping his hand. In the meantime, he would head back to the Hall and try to figure out what had happened to make Mike disappear without a word… and without a trace.