PART 17

Steve walked out of his room and down the hallway. He heard voices coming from the living room. As he rounded the corner and walked into the living room, he saw Jesse and Amanda talking. Once Amanda saw Steve, she walked away from Jesse and over to him.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" she asked.

"Like shit, Steve replied and walked away.

"Wait a minute," she said, going after him. "What's wrong? You feel like you're going to be sick again?"

"No."

"Well, are you going to tell me what's wrong or am I going to have to guess?"

"My body aches, my head is killing me, my hands won't stop shaking, and I can't sleep anymore."

"You've been sleeping for hours, Steve, of course you can't sleep.

"No I haven't, Amanda. Once my father left the room this morning, I was up."

"Why didn't you come out here?"

"Cause I wasn't in the mood for all the questions I would be getting from everyone," he said angrily. "And I'm still not, so stop with the third degree, okay?"

"It's not a third degree, Steve. I just care, and I want to make sure you're okay."

Steve just looked at her and then walked away.

Jesse walked up to Amanda. "How's he doing?"

"Looks like we're going to be dealing with angry today."

"Oh, that's just great."

Steve sat down at the dining room table as his father walked out of the kitchen.

"Steve," he said with a smile, walking over to him. "How are you feeling?"

Steve closed his eyes, speaking through clenched teeth. "Fine."

"What's wrong, Son?"

"I wish that everyone would stop asking me how I'm feeling," he said angrily with an irritated look at his father.

"Okay then, we won't ask anymore," Mark said. "Would you like me to make you something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Steve, you haven't eaten since yesterday. You need something."

"I said that I wasn't hungry!" Steve yelled angrily.

"You just tell me when you are then, and I'll make you something."

"Fine," Steve replied.

Mark walked over to Jesse and Amanda.

"I see we're going to be dealing with anger today," Mark said.

"Yeah, I think so, too," Amanda said.

They all looked over at Steve, who happened to look up at them.

"What the hell are you all staring at?" He got up and walked away from them.

Mark walked over to Steve and stopped him from going any farther. "All right, Steve. This is going to stop, and it's going to stop right now."

Steve stared at his father.

"We're here to help," Mark continued, "not fight you. So stop the tough guy act."

Steve went to walk away from him and Mark grabbed his son's arm. "Do you understand me?"

Steve couldn't hold his anger back any longer. Pushing his father, Mark lost his balance and fell to the floor.

"I don't want your help," Steve said staring at his father. "Go back home and get the hell out of my life."

"Steven!" Amanda yelled.

"I didn't ask you to come here to baby-sit me," he continued, looking up at Jesse and Amanda. "I didn't ask any of you to baby-sit me."

"All right, Steven," Amanda said. "Your father is right, this is going to stop and it's going to stop right now."

Steve stared at Amanda.

"Like Mark said, we're here to help you," Amanda continued, "not fight you. So stop it."

"Are you through?"

"I think you owe your father an apology."

Steve looked at his father and then Amanda. Turning on his heel he walked away from the group.

Amanda went to go after him.

Mark grabbed her by the arm. "Let him go, Amanda."

"But…"

"Just let him go," Mark repeated and walked into the kitchen.

Amanda took a deep breath, looked over at Jesse and shrugged her shoulders.

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Goodwin opened the door to Torres' office once again. He peered inside and saw that the room was unoccupied. Looking down the hallway on either side, he proceeded into the room. Closing the door quietly, he made his way over to the desk and sat down in the chair. He picked up the receiver to the phone and dialed a number. He waited for someone one the other end to pick up.

"Los Angeles Police Department."

"I need to speak with Lieutenant Cheryl Banks," he whispered.

"Excuse me. I can't here you. What did you say?"

"I said I need to speak with Lieutenant Cheryl Banks," Goodwin repeated a little louder this time.

"She's not in today. Can I take a message?"

"I need to speak to her right away. Is there a number where I can reach her?"

"I'm afraid I can't give out that information. If you want to leave a message, I can get it to her and she can call you back."

"You don't understand," Goodwin said. "I can't leave a message because she can't all me back where I am."

"Well, if you tell me what this message is about, I can get it to her."

"Look, I want to speak with Banks now," Goodwin said angrily. "Get her on another line and tell her I have information that she needs to know. This is very important information."

"Hold on one second sir."

Goodwin glanced up at the door nervously. "Come on come on, what the hell is taking you so long?"

A click on the other end told him the person he was talking to was back. "Did you get Banks?"

"Not yet, sir. We are trying to contact her right now. You need to wait on the phone just a little while longer."

"I don't have much time. You need to do this faster before."

At that moment the door to Torres' office flew open. Torres stood in the door way with Jackson and Franklin behind him.

"That's right, hold all my messages," Goodwin said into the phone. "I won't be coming in today either…All right…You know where to reach me if I'm needed…Yeah, bye." He looked up at Torres as he hung up the phone. "Just checking in at the office. Just wanted them to know I wouldn't be in today and to hold my calls."

"Oh I see," Torres said walking into the office. "Checking with the office again."

Goodwin got up from Torres' chair as Torres rounded the desk. He walked around the front of the desk. "I have other clients beside you, you know."

"Yeah, you told me that last night."

Goodwin glanced over his shoulder at Jackson and Franklin and then back at Torres. "Well, if you don't need me right now, I'm going to go work on something." As Goodwin turned to walk out the door, Jackson and Franklin stepped in front of the door to block his way. He turned again and looked at Torres who had the receiver in his hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked nervously.

"Oh, I was thinking of calling your office and talking with that sexy little receptionist you have over there."

Goodwin watched in fear as Torres pushed the redial button on the phone. Torres put the receiver up to his ear and Goodwin began to sweat. After hearing the voice at the other end, Torres hung up the phone and glared at Goodwin.

"You know, Goodwin," he began, "I'm really, really disappointed in you." He got up from his chair and walked over to the front of the desk. "Jesus Christ, I trusted you like a father. And you go and do this to me."

Goodwin looked nervously around the room, silently cursing himself for leaving his gun back in the room. "I have other cases I'm working on, I had to call the police department to get some files for one of my cases."

"Then why did you say you called your office?"

"Because I knew you would freak out like this if I told you I was talking with the police department."

Torres reached over his desk and opened a drawer; he took out a small tape recorder. Stopping the tape, he pressed the rewind button and then play, and held it up for Goodwin to hear.

"Look, I want to speak to Banks now. Get her on another line and tell her I have information she needs to know. This is very important information." It was Goodwin's voice; there was no denying it now.

"How do you explain that?" Torres asked.

Goodwin didn't waste time trying to explain, but instead he tried to make a break for it. Running toward the door, he tried to get through Jackson and Franklin, but they both held him back.

"Like I said, Goodwin. You disappointed me, now you're going to have to pay the price."

"Look," Goodwin said nervously. "I didn't get to speak to Banks, listen to the rest of the tape and you'll see. I won't call again, I promise."

"Can't trust you, Goodwin. And when I can't trust somebody, I have no use for him." He sat down on the edge of the desk. "Take him out of here and leave him somewhere where his body can be found."

"No! No! You can't do this! After all I've done for you, you can't do this!"

Torres stood silently as he glared at Goodwin. Jackson and Franklin grabbed Goodwin from behind and dragged him out of the office, kicking and screaming. Torres took a cigar from his jacket pocket; grabbing the lighter off his desk, he lit it. Taking a puff, he slowly exhaled, watching the smoke rise to the ceiling.

"Two down and one more to go, "he said with a smile on his face. "You'll be getting yours soon, Lieutenant Sloan, very soon."