AN: Thanks to all who read my story so far and thanks to my beta for her edits.

Act III Part 1

19th Street, San Francisco, 1973

For Cain Larson, life kicked him in the teeth and now he was hell bent on punishing those responsible for rubbing salt into his wounds. The girl. The cops. Anyone in my way. Abandoned by his parents at a young age, he fended for himself in any way he saw fit. Perhaps it was the alcohol that caused him to bounce back on the unemployment benefits time and time again or maybe it was the juvenile records? Whatever the case, Larson had the world to blame. He had no friends, no one to call family, no one to warm his bed and no place to call home. Just me, myself and I. He thought bitterly as he walked briskly down 19th Street. The breeze picked up and he zipped his jacket to shield him from a cool front. It was getting late into the night as the street was deserted. Larson needed a set of wheels. He cased the houses that lined the side walk and kept an eye out for a decent car to get him to where he needed to be. Bingo! Well I'll be damned! Slowing his pace, Larson watched a young man walk out of a house and head to his car parked on the curb. A Mustang. That'll do. Sneering, the crook shoved his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket then strolled casually over to the young blond youth.

"Hey man, where you heading? I could use a ride. My car broke down and I don't fancy walking all the way back home to my missus," Larson gave a wink as he confidently approached the unsuspecting individual.

"Uh, sorry buddy but I don't make it a habit of picking up strangers, no offense." The young man rubbed the back of his neck nervously after recovering from his initial surprise.

"No problem," Larson shrugged and smiled coolly. He made to keep walking then rolled his eyes and asked, "Hey you gotta light, buddy?"

"Sure," the young man's face broke into an uneasy grin then reached into his jeans pocket for his lighter. That one moment of distraction and Larson's calculated timing to close in on the unfortunate soul brought time to a standstill. In one fluid motion Larson had buried a switchblade in the young man's gut. Bet he didn't see that one coming! The blade was driven deeper until the hilt struck the sternum. Twisting and cutting through vital organs and major blood vessels, Larson's frenzied attack ended when he wrenched the blade out of his victim's body. The youth's blue eyes widened as he let out a single strangled gasp of agony and sheer terror before he crumpled on to the driveway. Larson knelt down and quickly wiped his blade on the victim's shirt then rifled through his pockets. A set of car keys and a wallet bore the fruits of his search. He emptied the wallet of cash which he shoved into his pocket then threw the wallet aside. Armed with a purpose, an address, a set of wheels and his switchblade, Larson was a man on a mission and he was not going to let anyone stop him. Next stop, Steve's.

Residence of Mike Stone, 1973

A seasoned detective, Lieutenant Mike Stone had seen it all but tonight was unlike any others. A sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach had nothing to do with the material damage inflicted on his property and everything to do with the most precious being in his life. He knew there and then that Jeannie's life was at stake. He had feared for her safety since finding her in head-quarters all shook up earlier that day but now he knew she was being stalked. No, hunted down.

"Mike?" A voice pulled Stone out of his reverie. He turned toward the police officer.

"Briles, I want a full lab crew out here tonight. Turn this place inside out if you have to. It's already a mess, anyway. I'll call the captain and organize all-night patrols. That bastard is not going anywhere near my Jeannie!" Mike spoke with a passion but his voice was strained and his lips twitched as if he needed to say more but couldn't bring himself to articulate the right words.

"Don't worry Mike, we'll keep her safe," Officer Briles replied in a brave attempt at reassuring the Lieutenant before he walked away to call for a forensics team.

Mike ran his fingers over the cracked glass of the photo frame which housed a picture of Jeannie and himself. He jerked his finger back as he came into contact with a sharp edge protruding from the frame. A small droplet of blood formed on his finger and Mike stepped back from the wall. Just as he turned to make his way out of the house, a young SFPD officer came to halt before him. From his breathlessness Mike could tell he had been running.

"Lieutenant- Lieutenant Stone, Captain Olsen was on the radio. He's looking for you," gasped the rookie.

"Thanks," Mike gave the young man a slap on the arm then raced outside toward a patrol car. Another officer handed him the mike. "Rudy?"

"Mike, I've been trying to reach you since you left the office!" Olsen practically shouted into the phone from his office line.

"What do you mean? I was at the gas station at one point then I went over to a couple of the hotels along Market Street. I was wondering if the bar tenders could shed some light on where I could find Larson. It turned out all I had to do was come home!"

"What's going on Mike? I don't follow you,"

"He was here, Rudy. Larson was waiting right here for my daughter," Mike paused to swallow. He started to wonder why Rudy was had been trying to reach him.

"What?"

"That's right. By the way, why were you looking for me? Did you send out a back-up team? They got here within minutes after I did. What's going on?" Mike's questions rolled off his tongue as his anxiety heightened.

"Yeah I sent them. Steve called and told me someone phoned his place. Jeannie picked it up and whoever was on the other line told her he was a police officer. He said that you got shot."

"That had to have been Larson making that call! I don't know how he got Steve's number but there's a chance he found it at my place. He certainly did a good job of turning it upside down. I gotta go and call Steve. I can't imagine what Jeannie's going through right now after hearing that monster's voice." The tone in Mike's voice spoke volumes of the trepidation he felt and his need to gain some control over the situation.

"I understand. Call Steve and get him to take Jeannie to a safe house but whatever you do, I don't want you going after this creep yourself. You hear me, Mike?" Olsen directed. He knew the Lieutenant too well to know that he would do everything to find Larson - singlehandedly if need be - before he could harm Jeannie.

"Yeah I hear you, 10-4." Stone replied succinctly then ended the transmission before requesting dispatch to patch him through to Steve's telephone.

Residence of Steve Keller, 1973

At the first ring of the telephone Steve jumped off his perch on the arm of the sofa and Jeannie ceased her endless pacing. Neither of them made a move toward the phone on the coffee table. They stared at one another wide eyed with anxiety before a fourth ring brought Steve to his senses and he hurried over to pick up the phone.

"Steve?" the voice spoke with uncertainty through the ear piece.

"Mike!" Steve's relief at hearing his partner's voice on the other line was no understatement. He smiled at Jeannie who also caught the relief in his voice and in his eyes.

"Yeah it's me, buddy boy. Listen, I heard what happened with that maniac calling you and Jeannie picking up the phone – "

"I'm sorry about that, I should've-"

"Never mind about that now. It's not your fault. I need you to listen to me. Somehow Larson knows where I live and he has your telephone number. I don't know how but Jeannie might. She lost her handbag today when she tried to get away from him. Can you ask her if she has anything in her purse other than her college card that has our address or phone numbers?" Mike cut in in his haste for retrieving vital information.

Steve placed his hand over the mouthpiece, locked eyes with Jeannie and repeated the question as Mike instructed him to.

For a moment Jeannie was silent as she broke eye contact with Steve and searched her memory then she remembered. "My address book! Oh no, Steve, it was in my bag, I'm sure of it! It's the only place I write everyone's phone numbers and addre…oh no, he knows where Mike lives and he-he knows where you…" Jeannie's panic-stricken voice trailed off and Steve uncovered the mouthpiece.

"We have a problem. Jeannie says she had her address book in her bag when she lost it. That could explain how he knows where you live,"

"That means he has yours too! Get out of there now! Take Jeannie with you and head over to the China Basin area. On the corner of Townsend and 3rd Street you'll see a run-down hotel. Check in. I'll meet you there in about forty minutes. I'll head over your place with a patrol unit and pick up your things and Jeannie's," Mike instructed with urgency in his voice.

"Yeah I know where that is. We'll see you soon," Steve replied calmly. Inside he was far from calm but he knew he had to keep Jeannie from falling apart. Though she was like her father with a strong will and rational mind, she was still far too young to be faced with such cruelty. After hanging up the receiver, he walked over to the frightened girl, took her by the arm and gently steered her out of the living room and down the hall toward the front door.

"Steve, where are we going? What wrong? Is Mike really okay?"

"He's fine. He's going to meet up with us. We're going somewhere safe where Larson can't contact you,"

Jeannie remained silent and allowed Steve to lead the way. He fumbled with his keys as he locked the front door and inwardly cursed himself for not being steady handed in front of Jeannie who eyed him nervously. Feeling as if it were a natural thing to do, Steve took Jeannie by the hand and walked her to his car, all the while keeping a look out for an ambush.

The dark Mustang lay waiting several houses away from the departing couple who climbed into a Porsche parked at the curb. Larson watched over the dash board and smiled deviously as the Porsche's backlights shone in his eyes. He turned the key in the ignition and brought the car to life. He pulled out carefully from his parked position and started to tail the vehicle ahead of him when it pulled away from the curb and accelerated down the road. With its headlights in the off position, the Mustang hid under cover of darkness unseen by the occupants of the vehicle ahead of him.