No, it isn't God. It isn't God or any other "higher power." I think I'm disappointed, but I can't be sure. Sounds strange, I know. How could I not know if I feel disappointed or not? That's like this one time, back when I had just gotten out of high school. I took a trip with a bunch of friends to hang around Washington, DC around the time of some big protest against the Vietnam War. It was mostly a bunch of teenagers and college kids, stereotypical stuff. I was walking around one day by myself, after the protest was over. I was high at the time, both from drugs and the political high mindedness of it all. I don't recall why I was by myself, but I was and as I was walking, I saw this guy in his Army dress uniform. He looked... I don't know how to describe it... lost? Betrayed? I couldn't put my finger on it then, and I still can't, all these years later.

Anyway, we shared a look and I was just overcome with a surge of emotions. I didn't know what to feel. I remember the word ashamed being forefront in my mind. Here I was, having a time out of protests, and he's back from Nam with shit I can't even dream up in his head.

And I got this feeling that maybe what I was doing was wrong. Not the "bring the troops home" stuff, but the way I was going about it. These guys didn't need some stuck up romantic kid (for that was what I knew myself to be at that moment) preaching about the horrors of war. All he needed was a world he could count on once he got home.

And it wasn't there.

Olivia and I walked into the squad room and I noted that Fin and Rosen were still out. "What'd you get?" I asked Elliot.

"No one around the Hontas apartment remembers seeing Eisenberger or Piechocki."

"Not that that's a surprise," McElroy said bitterly.

"We didn't do much better," I responded.

"What'd you guys get from Piechocki?" Elliot asked.

"Not much. He's pissed that we keep talking to him because he hasn't done anything, according to him. Thought he was going to throw a wrench at Munch at one point."

I looked at Olivia over the top of my glasses as she sat down, then turned back to Elliot and McElroy. "He said the reason he was at PS 114 was to pick up his nephew."

"Does he have one?" McElroy asked.

I sighed. "Yes, one Matthew Herr, son of his sister Evelyn Herr, is currently enrolled as a kindergartner."

"He still could have set his sights on the Hontas boys."

"That's little consolation, dear Elliot."

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

At that point, Cragen came out of his office. Olivia told him what we had found, and I added at the end that I would like to keep a watch on Piechocki.

"You don't think he'd go for his nephew instead?" Cragen asked.

"I don't know, he might. If nothing else it will rule him out."

"I'll call the nearest precinct, get a detail on him."

"Thanks, Cap." He turned to go back into his office, but then Fin and Rosen came in.

"Guess what Eisenberger rents?" he asked.

"A storage unit," Rosen answered.

"Yeah, so?" came from McElroy, ever the dense one. Even Elliot had points on him, and maybe even Cassidy.

"So, he lives in Manhattan in an apartment. Where's he gonna keep a coupla kids with no one findin' 'em?" Fin elaborated.

A look passes over McElroy's face that suggests he has had an epiphany. "I gotcha. He can keep 'em in there."

Shaking my head at him, I asked Fin, "How'd you find this out?"

"When we were waiting for him at his office, I was talking to the receptionist-"

"Patricia Weiss?"

"Naw, Leslie Warycz," Fin said before Rosen continued.

"I noticed a bill from a P&W Storage, address in Jersey. When I asked her about it, she said it was her first day, hadn't a clue about it. I have a feeling that it might be her last, what with a coupla cops wanting to talk to her new boss."

McElroy laughed. We ignored him. You guys didn't check it out, did you?" I asked, recognizing the urgency in my own voice.

"No, thought we'd come back to the squad first and see what everyone else had gotten."

I turned to Cragen.

"Go. McElroy, Rosen, you gather up some uniforms. Lights and sirens, detectives."

We pulled up to the office of the storage lot, and I went in with Fin. "Do you have a unit being rented to a Kirk Eisenberger?"

"Who are you?"

"New York's finest," I said and held up my badge, as did Fin.

"Give me a minute." He turned to the computer and typed in the name. "Yes, we do."

"Which unit?"

"47, Row D."

"Thank you." We left the man in his office looking confused and slightly worried. "Row D," I shouted to the assembled detectives and uniformed officers. "Number 47. There might be two young boys in there. I don't want them getting more scared than they already are. Elliot, Olivia, McElroy, I want you to take two uniforms around the back and come up from the other end of Row D." They quickly chose two uniforms and Fin, Rosen and the remaining two uniforms were left along with me. "We'll go straight down."

We moved in, the uniforms had their guns drawn all the way, and Fin and I drew ours once we hit 41. We stopped at 43 and, nodding to Elliot, we went the last few feet on either side. I waved for everyone to be quiet, and listened at the door. I didn't hear anything, but motioned for the uni with the bolt cutters anyway. He rushed forward and the chain fell with a clank. Sliding the door up, I expected two boys, but was instead met with piles of boxes.

"Son of a bitch!" I yelled and kicked the nearest one. All this for nothing. They were still out there. Whatever bastard that had taken them was still torturing them. I stalked back to the office, scaring the man from earlier half to death. "Has he been here recently?"

"Who?" He was clearly agitated and upset at my sudden entrance, and probably my anger.

"Eisenberger, you dim wit."

"Y- yes."

"Did he have anything with him?"

"N- no. Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite." He was regaining himself slowly.

"Can he get in at night?"

"Sure. Anyone with a storage unit can get in."

I sighed, and looked out the window where I saw Fin and Rosen waiting and already two uniforms climbing back into their RMP. "How many units to you rent to people in Manhattan?"

"I don't know."

"Find out. I want names, too." I walked outside, but stood away from Fin, Rosen and now the rest of the detectives and other uniforms. I looked around. It was an ideal location. P&W Storage was in the suburbs, and set back from most of the nearby houses. There was a large fence all around, and the front gate had a lock which must have been controlled by a master key, a copy of which all the unit owners must have had. The office was right past the entrance and there was some parking available up against the front fence. There were ten rows, and between each a lane which was approximately a car and a half wide. The rows of units themselves were quite wide, at least twenty feet, and about fifteen feet high. There were units on both sides of the buildings, which accounted for the width. The rows were relatively long, housing at least 30 units, making the rows around 300 feet long in total.

"Detective," called out the man tentatively from the door to the office. "I have a list for you."

I walked over, suddenly tired, but still frustrated and took a small packet of papers from him. "How many units do you have here?"

"Just under six hundred."

"Are all of them being rented?"

"Just about. Are you looking for something?"

His question surprised me and I looked down at the rather short man. For a moment, I didn't say anything, and then, "Maybe, yes."

He nodded and went back into the office. I waved Fin and the others over. I passed one sheet out to each detective, then realized that there was enough to go around a second time, leaving myself and Fin with three sheets each. "This is a list of those who rent units and live in Manhattan. I thought it would be worth a shot, in case anyone else pops up in our investigation."

"Doubt it'll turn up anything," McElroy muttered.

I shrugged. "Neither do I, Bruce, but it can't hurt."

We walked back to the cars, but no one went anywhere at first. Fin and I stood and spread our sheets on the hood of the car, reading them over. Elliot and Olivia sat in their car to read them and Rosen stood outside while McElroy sat in the car, door open and feet out. I seemed to have last names starting with A, B, M, R and S. I went through the first two pages quickly enough, no names or addresses popping out at me. On the third page, however, I had a surprise.

"Derek Russell?"

Fin looked up. "Who'd you find?"

"Derek Russell."

"The teacher?"

"Yeah, looks like. Hey, Liv," I called out, then realized she had her doors closed. I walked over to her car, and she looked up and got out.

"What do ya got?"

"Derek Russell, Robbie's teacher, you remember where he lives?"

"Vaguely, yeah. Why?"

"Is this it?" I showed her the paper, my finger underneath his entry.

"Yeah, that's it."

I looked at the information regarding his storage unit. Row C, unit 60. "We need to get in there."

"John, we don't have a warrant, or probable cause for one either," she said reasonably.

"Then we need to get some, quick." I jogged back to my car, "Fin get in. We're going back to the house."

He got in and started it up, and three cars peeled out of P&W Storage headed for New York City.

That guy down in DC made me think hard enough about what I was doing that I wound up catching a ride home from someone. A month or so later found me back in Washington with my "hippie" friends, smoking pot and protesting the war. It was like he changed me so drastically with just that look. He couldn't have. I was an impressionable teenager who thought he knew the all the world's problems and how to solve them, and a good number of those solutions included drugs somewhere along the way. That was probably due to the fact that I came up with those solutions while on the clouds.

But that soldier left me with something I don't think I've shaken yet. Sometimes, I think about him and I can see that look clear as day. I bet if I were to tell this story to someone, they would ask about what his eyes looked like, but the truth is, I only saw his face. I imagine his eyes held some sort of grief, or it could have been anger, or maybe they were just blank, I couldn't tell you.

I can say that I hope to meet him again, so that I can tell him that I've tried to make this world a good place to come home to.