His eyes snapped open, squinting in the bright fluorescent light, wondering what had roused him. He blinked a couple of times and was just clearing his throat when he heard it again, a soft, almost apologetic knock.

"Come in," he called as loudly as he could.

The door opened slowly and a smiling Devitt stepped into the room. "Sorry, I know you were sleeping but I thought you'd want to hear the news."

Frowning, Mike tried to sit up a little straighter against the pillows of the raised bed. "What news?"

The captain pulled one of the white plastic chairs closer to the bed and sat. "I just got a call from Bob Evans… about that idea you had? And yes, they have Lonsdale's car in one of their impound lots and they got the mileage from the odometer. And they got his wallet from the search of his house and they've been in touch with the credit card company already – seems he only has one card that they could find – and they have people going through his house to see if they can find any records or receipts or whatever on his car, for repairs or maintenance and stuff like that."

Mike was staring at him expressionlessly, barely blinking.

"The credit card company said they should be able to supply us with any charges for the past month by tomorrow but the older ones are going to take a little longer."

Mike finally nodded. "Tomorrow's good…"

"Yeah, that's what I said." Devitt paused and smiled. "And, ah, I talked to Rudy, brought him up to speed on everything, and he's agreed to assign Bill to work with Steve and help him do whatever he's going to do back home, as long as Steve doesn't leave his apartment and compromise his recovery."

Exhaling loudly, Mike chuckled through a smile. "Thank you, and don't worry, I'll make sure of that."

"Good," the captain laughed quietly then he sobered. "Well, that's the good news. You ready for the bad."

After a beat, and frowning, Mike nodded.

"The Parks Service has called off the search for Jeffrey Lonsdale. It's been two days and there hasn't been a sign of him… nothing… It's like he disappeared off the face of the earth… literally…" He sighed with a slight shake of his head. "Sorry, Mike…"

The blue eyes had drifted away and they now snapped back to his colleague's face. "It's not your fault, Roy," he smiled sadly, "it's nobody's fault, really… except maybe that stupid drunk bastard in the Chevelle…" He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes, trying to control the anger and frustration. When he finally opened them again, he stared at his old friend with a small wistful smile. "I'm disappointed, of course, but not surprised… He had a pretty good head start, from what I gather, and his only injury seems to have been the broken wrist so he could cover ground pretty good, I guess…"

"Yeah," Devitt agreed quietly, "and he's had almost 25 years living on the run, so to speak… he knows how to keep a low profile…"

"Yeah," Mike almost swallowed the word, once more staring into space. He exhaled loudly.

"Ah, anyway," Devitt said a little louder than necessary, trying to break the mood, "there's a BOLO out, of course. And all the doctors and hospitals and clinics just outside the Angeles Park area and all the way upstate to the Oregon border have, or are going to get, an APB for a middle-aged white man with a broken left wrist… but so far that's been a bust too. But it's going to take time to notify them all."

The lieutenant was still staring down at the blanket covering his legs but Devitt knew he was listening intently. Eventually he started to nod slightly and he looked up. "Well, I guess everything's being done that can be right now, hunh?"

Devitt nodded as enthusiastically as he could. "Yeah… yeah… for now… These things take time, you know that…"

"I know," Mike admitted reluctantly, "I know… but it doesn't make it any easier…" He looked up at Devitt. "I gotta get out of here, Roy. I gotta get home, there's things I can do there I can't do here."

Trying to ward off the argument he knew was coming, Devitt raised both hands placatingly. "I know you do but first you have to do what your doctors say. You're not ready –"

"Bull!" Mike almost shouted, reaching for the blanket with his right hand and starting to pull it off. "Where's the doctor? I want to talk to him."

Devitt grabbed his colleague's forearm and held him firmly. "Mike, stop it!" He glared into the now defiant blue eyes until he felt the tense muscles under his hand begin to relax and Mike sank back against the bed, breathing angrily through his nose, his jaw clenched. After a couple of long seconds, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

Allowing the calm to settle, Devitt lifted his hand and quietly released a held breath. "Listen, ah," he began easily, "I'll go find your doctor and talk to him, okay? But I can't make any promises. They don't want you walking out of here before they're sure your lung's not going to collapse again, you know that, right?"

Keeping his eyes closed, Mike reluctantly nodded.

"Okay, well, you just lie there and relax and, ah… I'll be back…" Devitt patted his arm and quietly crossed to the door. As he stepped out into the corridor he glanced back; Mike, looking spent and defeated, was staring at the ceiling.

# # # # #

He had found just the right way to stand and move that put the least amount of strain on his healing ribs. Sitting in the LTD all day hadn't helped, and he was very stiff and sore when he finally crawled out onto Union Street just before 9. Tanner had carried his flight bag into the apartment; the small carry-on had survived the accident in the trunk and was just a little worse for wear.

Making sure his injured colleague was going to be fine on his own, and with the promise to be in touch first thing in the morning, Tanner had left. Steve had made himself a coffee and was just walking into the living room with the cup in his hand when the phone rang.

Frowning, he carefully put the full cup on the coffee table before picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hey, you guys made pretty good time!" came the familiar voice over the line.

"Ah, yeah," Steve answered, frowning in surprise, "we did. How did you know I was -?"

Mike's laugh cut him off. "I've called twice already. Third time lucky, I guess. How was the drive?"

"Uneventful, thankfully." They both laughed softly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Well, I'm a little stiff and sore, but I think that's to be expected. I'm gonna take it easy tonight."

"That's a good idea."

"Hey, ah, are you at the pay phone in the corridor?" Steve asked, concerned for his partner's welfare.

"No no no," Mike assured quickly. "I rented a phone, it's in my room. I wanted to talk to you tonight and I knew they wouldn't let me out of bed so… It's exorbitantly expensive," he chuckled, "but it's worth it." He cleared his throat self-consciously.

Steve smiled to himself.

"So, anyway, I wanted to bring you to up to speed on stuff that's been happening down here." For the next few minutes Mike relayed to his partner everything that had happened regarding the search for Jeffrey Lonsdale during the day, all of it frustrating.

"So, listen, ah," Mike continued quietly, "I want you to take it easy tomorrow, just get some rest and take care of yourself and, ah, we'll start working on the Lonsdale stuff the day after… how does that sound?"

Steve let a long beat of silence float over the line. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Well, ah," Mike began with a chuckle, and Steve could hear the grin behind the words, "I managed to talk the doctors into letting me go home tomorrow."

"What?"

"Ah, yeah, well, ah, I sort of promised I'd take it real easy and not leave my house and go see my doctor right away… and all that kinda stuff," he said slowly, then sped up, "And I will do that, I promise you too, but…" He sighed loudly. "Well, I'm going stir crazy and I just –"

"I know, I know," Steve interrupted with a chuckle. "That's, ah, that's good news, it really is. But are you sure you're up to it?"

"Yeah, yeah, for sure. I'm gonna try to get to sleep right after we hang up, and Roy and I'll hit the road as soon as they let me outa here."

"Okay, good. But, ah, do you know how you're getting home yet? I mean, in what? There's no car, right?"

"Yeah, I know. Roy's been very evasive about it all. But he keeps telling me not to worry so…" Steve could picture the shrug in his mind's eye and he chuckled. "Anyway," Mike continued, "I'll let you go and I'll call when I get home tomorrow – if we leave early enough it should be around dinnertime, I hope."

"Okay, well, ah, take it easy okay. Have a safe trip, however you get here, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"You got it. Good night."

"Good night." He hung up and, picking up the coffee cup, sat back and smiled. He wasn't surprised Mike had managed to talk his way out of the hospital a day early. Now he only hoped it wasn't going to backfire.

# # # # #

Devitt opened the wooden door and held it. "You ready to go?"

Mike, dressed in his jeans and sneakers, his immobilized left arm hidden by an uncharacteristically colourful short-sleeved shirt, smiled at him from under the 49ers ball cap. He picked up a large paper bag that had become the repository for his few personal possessions.

"Here, I'll get that," the captain said, stepping away from the door and taking the bag from his colleague's hand. He opened the door again, revealing an orderly standing behind a wheelchair.

With a frustrated sigh, Mike carefully lowered himself into the chair. Devitt fell into step beside him as they headed to the elevators.

Chuckling, Devitt gestured at his friend's face. "I thought you were going to shave that off?"

Mike looked up, rubbing his right hand over his beard. "I was. But I'm gonna keep it until we have Jeffrey Lonsdale in custody again." He looked up and smiled grimly. "It's a… reminder, I guess, that this isn't over and it won't be over till we catch him again… Besides, I'm gonna be working from home, right, so nobody's gonna see it… except me…"

Devitt smiled and nodded. "Works for me," he agreed as he reached out to push the elevator button.

# # # # #

The orderly pushed the wheelchair through the glass front doors and out into the bright southern California sunshine, Devitt right behind him. The wheelchair came to a stop and the orderly leaned forward to apply the brake.

Mike glanced around the small circular entrance, looking for one of the SFPD's LTD's or Galaxie's. But there were none.

With the orderly's assistance, Mike got slowly to his feet, trying not to wince. He shook the orderly's hand and thanked him for the ride, then turned to see Devitt looking at him with a Cheshire cat smile.

"So, ah, where's our ride?" Mike asked, frowning in confusion.

Devitt turned slightly and gestured with his free hand at a hunter green Monte Carlo parked at the curb several yards away.

Mike looked at the sleek Chevrolet sedan then back to his colleague. "Whose car is that?"

Devitt's smile turned into a grin. "Yours."