Steve couldn't believe what he was hearing, and he managed a loud, angry snort even through his broken nose. "Am I hearing you correctly?" he said quickly, trying to keep his tone polite. "Abbott disappears and you think either me or Mike might have had something to do with it?"

Mike hadn't moved, but Steve instinctively knew that his partner was completely in agreement with him.

"Of course not!" Olsen shot back, offended at the implication, as Haseejian and Healey shifted uncomfortably. "We have to cover every base before we can continue, you know that." He stopped himself and took a deep breath. "Now let's everybody just relax so we can talk this through calmly and civilly, shall we?"

No one moved, then Mike took a small step back and gestured at the couch. As the three visitors took up positions on the thankfully large sofa, Mike sat in the armchair and Steve perched on its arm. "Now tell me what happened," he said coolly and evenly, and both Healey and Haseejian swallowed tiny grins – the boss was back.

Olsen glanced at the sergeants and Haseejian cleared his throat and sat forward. "That's just the thing, Mike, nobody knows what happened. The guys from IA went to Abbott's apartment this morning to pick him up and take him to the Hall, and not only was he not there, but his place had been cleared out. All his personal stuff - gone. Like he never even lived there."

"And he was there yesterday?" Steve asked, having calmed down somewhat.

"Yep," said Healey, "everything was fine, they said. Abbott was nervous, of course, they told us, but anxious to come in and get all this over with for now. There was no indication whatsoever that he'd take a flyer – so the IA guys are pretty baffled by it."

"And no signs of foul play?"

"Not a thing. We have the crime lab guys going over the place but they don't expect to find anything."

Mike sat back and looked at Olsen, then his two sergeants. "You guys have been working this case. What do you think?"

Haseejian glanced at Healey. "To be perfectly honest, both of us, well, all three of us," he included Olsen in his nod, "have always had the feeling that this guy wasn't exactly what he seemed. Now it's been nothing we could prove, of course, or we'd have let everyone know already, but there's something just not right, you know what I mean?"

Both Mike and Steve nodded slightly.

"So, honestly, this kinda doesn't surprise me, but if you wanted me to come up with a reason behind all this – I'm at a loss."

"Mike, we went into everything in this guy's background that we could get our hands on and he always came up squeaky clean. Almost too clean," Healey offered. "But there was nothing we could put our fingers on to say 'this guy's too good to be true'. And believe me, we tried."

"But now, with this," Haseejian took over, "well, it looks, to me anyway, that maybe we were on the right track with our paranoia." He chuckled dryly.

Mike leaned forward, a small appreciative smile playing at his lips. Slowly his eyes turned to Olsen. "So what happens now?"

"Well, IA is asking us for assistance on this," the captain couldn't resist a grin that the two sergeants shared, "and we're already on it. We got people covering the airport, buses, trains but too much time may have already passed and who knows if he's still in town or left by car hours ago. You guys know the routine… Anyway, these two are gonna head up our investigation as they already have a head start on everybody else. However, you," he pointed at Mike, "have to stay out of this but you," his finger shifted slightly towards Steve, "well, it's gonna be your call, but if you feel up to it, you might be able to give us a hand in the office."

Steve's eyebrows shot up and he smiled and turned to meet Mike's approving nod. "You bet. When can I start?"

"Well," Haseejian began with a grin, "how about first thing tomorrow morning? We'll pull everything we got and we'll go over it with you and see if your fresh eyes can see something we missed. Who knows, right?"

Mike had been staring at Olsen. "So what happens with the Grand Jury?"

"Well, from what Gerry said, they'll table this particular case – they are looking at four different potential cases this session – but only for a couple of days. If IA can't produce Abbott by then, there's the possibility that the Grand Jury may just toss this out." His eyes never left Mike's as he spoke, and when he finished, silence filled the room.

Mike closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands with a sigh. When he finally looked up, he said quietly, "You have to believe I do not wish this boy ill, I hope he's safe and sound somewhere - and I hate myself for saying this, but a big part of me hopes we never see him again… I'll go to my grave believing that I saw that knife, but he was beginning to make me doubt myself…"

Steve put a hand on Mike's left shoulder and squeezed. "Then you were the only one," he said softly, "because I never doubted you for a second."

"None of us did, boss," Haseejian added gently. "And we still don't."

"But we're not out of the woods yet," Olsen interjected cautiously. "The Grand Jury case being temporarily put on hold doesn't mean it's gonna go away permanently. And it won't stop the talk, the speculation that maybe you did shoot an unarmed man. I know there's talk; we've all heard it. In a department this size, there's gonna be agitators.

"So what we need to do is get to the bottom of all this, find out how this happened and why, and clear Mike's name completely. Are we all agreed?"

# # # # #

Steve was sitting at the desk in the sanctuary of Mike's office, having run the gauntlet of good wishes from his colleagues on his early morning arrival. Healey entered the office with a cardboard file box, Haseejian right behind him juggling three cups of coffee and a paper bag.

Healey dropped the box onto the desk as Haseejian handed Steve a cup and set the other two down. He opened the paper bag and offered his colleagues fresh donuts, only to realize that Steve could not indulge. "Oh, sorry about that, I forgot." He grinned at Healey. "Well, more for us." The two sergeants then watched in awe as Steve managed to sip his coffee through the wires in his mouth.

The inspector already had his jacket off and sleeves rolled up, and he lifted a tall stack of files from the box.

"Okay," said Healey, settling in, "let me give you a brief sketch of David Abbott. You can read the details later for yourself, but, basically, he's a 20-year-old white male from St. Louis, Missouri. He's been in town about six-and-a-half months. He came here directly from St. Louis by bus. He was a little too young for the 'peace and love' generation but he wanted to experience it anyway, so he came here with his guitar, hoping to make a living 'busking', as they call it, on the street.

"He was making enough to pay his rent in that small one-bedroom across the alley from our incident scene and put food on his table, and he seemed to be happy with his life. His goal was to eventually resettle in L.A. and try to become a movie star."

Steve chuckled gently at the naivete.

"He had no trouble with anybody after he got here; no parking tickets – well, he didn't have a car - no jaywalking, he even played his guitar in the right areas; he never got hassled by us or anyone else. No drug problems, no civil disturbance or disturbing the peace. Absolutely nothing. A model citizen."

"We checked with St. Louis PD," Haseejian took up the tale, "and nothing there either. He's a high school grad and had one year of community college – he was taking an electrician's course – but he dropped out to 'chase his dream' of being a movie star. There's no record of anyone in his family having a problem with the law; they're your typical, whitebread, Midwest family; mom, dad, brother, two sisters and the family dog. Dad owns a hardware store and Mom's a housewife."

Steve looked up from his perusal of a file. "So, if this quy is squeaky clean, where do you think our trouble lies? What triggers your 'paranoia', if it's not David Abbott?"

Haseejian and Healey looked at each other, but neither started to speak.

Jumping on their hesitation, Steve asked, "So… what? Are you starting to think that Mike did actually shoot an unarmed man?"

"God no!" Healey almost yelled, stung by the suggestion. He stopped himself, held his hands up as if stopping traffic, and took a deep calming breath. "Steve, before the second black-and-white got there and helped secure the scene, there were only four people in that apartment besides the dead man. You, Mike, Madsen and McKinley."

"So you're saying…if I'm getting your drift here," Steve said slowly, "that if Pettet really did have the knife in his hand when Mike shot him the second time, then it was either Madsen or McKinley that put it under him?"

Healey glanced at Haseejian then nodded reluctantly.

"You do know what you're saying here, right, Dan?" Steve continued, carefully choosing his words. "You're telling me that you believe a member of the San Francisco Police Department framed another member, came up with an 'eyewitness', then made that witness disappear just before he was to testify before the Grand Jury?" Healey nodded slowly after several long silent seconds. "Okay?…Then, why?"

"That's what we gotta find out, Steve," Haseejian said with a calmness he didn't feel. "Because I agree with Dan."