PART II

From the Magazine rack at Sonny's Shop 'n' Save...

"Say YES to intimacy" -Relationship, the Magazine

"Fight Back! How to Defend Yourself against Identity Thieves" -PC World

"The Odds that You Are Being Watched are Greater than You Think" -Technology Today

"Following the press conference, Commissioner Baldwin confirmed that drugs..." -Port Charles Tribune

"How to Get What You Want from Your Man" -Cosmopolitan

"Is Time Running Out? Secrets of the Mayans Revealed!" -Rumor Mill

"Being Ruthless in the Workplace- Kill the Competition & Win the Daily Power Struggle" -Success

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The two plain-clothes detectives sat in an unmarked police sedan in the parking lot of the Port Charles cemetery. The bone-white car fit in with the pale headstones and marble monuments nestled in regular rows among the lush green grass and vegetation. The investigators' watchful gazes were trained on a funeral party several yards away across the verdant field. They had been in position well before the ceremony began, and the younger of the two ran a restless hand through his unruly black hair as the ceremony dragged on.

"Explain to me again why we're here?" asked Detective Dante Falconeri with a frustrated sigh.

"We're Detectives. I still like to think that 'detecting' is a part of our jobs," answered the older of the two men. He shifted his spare frame in the passenger seat, idly running his fingers over the camera in his lap.

Lucas Spencer had been the youngest man promoted to Detective in the history of the Port Charles Police Department. At the time he had been resentful of the distrust and unease with which he had been regarded by the older, more experienced officers. Since being partnered with Dante, Lucas had begun to understand their initial misgivings. Though only a handful of years separated him and his partner, sometimes he felt much, much older- not to mention wiser.

Dante regarded the distant casket with a skeptical eye. "This, uh, this was just another drug-related shootout, right? Gang-bangers, junkies... I don't know, I just don't see those types getting sentimental. This wasn't a domestic case or your typical murder by a family member or friend. Why would the guy who put a cap in this wannabe gangster bother to show up here to pay his respects?"

Lucas's intense, clear gaze never wavered from the small crowd of dark-clad attendees. "I don't know." He spoke quietly, as if mulling over his thoughts as much as answering his partner. "This case is different somehow. The usual motives, there's no evidence that they apply here. No sign of robbery, nobody was sold fake drugs, and there's no chatter on the street about rival syndicates. If the crime is different, then the criminal might be different too. What if we have the one mob shooter in Port Charles with a conscience?"

Dante snorted. "You can't know any of that. This stiff was suspected of Zacharra ties, but I doubt his own ma will miss him much." He nodded toward the small assembly. "Don't see many hankies over there. Not a wet eye in the house."

"I don't know anything yet, but I have suspicions. That's why we're here. To build a case you have to have evidence to support your suspicions. So far we have nothing." Lucas tapped the camera in his lap. "We need to try some unorthodox tactics, no matter how far-fetched they may seem, if we want to generate a lead."

Dante glanced across at the blade-thin profile of his partner. "Why do you care so much anyway? Some drug dealing scum won't live to collect a pension. Society is actually better off with some guys under the ground rather than walking on it. We both know this will probably go down as unsolved, and no one will lose any sleep over it."

Lucas's eyes narrowed. "I don't like it when things don't add up. And there's always justice. You're in Homicide now. We speak for the dead, remember?" His voice lowered to an almost-whisper. "Everyone deserves justice. Besides, you could stand to solve a case, win some respect."

"You trying to say I'm not the most popular guy in the squad room? Look, I know what they're saying. Upstart kid from the organized crime task force used his big city cache to wrangle a promotion and a position he didn't earn. That about the gist of it?"

Lucas shrugged. "I went through the same thing. If you show them that you're good murder-police, that you can do the job, the rest won't matter."

Dante shrugged and decided to change the subject. "I'm all for justice. I just never imagined looking for it would be this boring." He yawned then pantomimed slapping himself awake. "Speaking of things that don't add up..." he cut his eyes sidelong to watch his partner for a reaction. "Guess who I ran into yesterday at the personnel office? A Luke Spencer?" Lucas visibly tensed, but he continued to stare at the funeral goers. "Any relation? Like maybe your old man? Guess he's an ex-detective or something."

"Yeah." Lucas's tone was colder than the trickle of air-conditioned vapor sliding out of the dashboard vents. "And an ex-con."

Dante watched his partner now with far more interest than he had given to the distant mourners. "Yeah, I guess I heard some rumors about that."

Lucas frowned. His jaw tensed to an angry line. "I guess you did."

"Seems like from what I heard that the old-timers left in the department actually have a lot of respect for him. I heard he was the real deal, real old school."

Lucas rubbed a hand over his lightly stubbled chin. "He was an old school criminal," he intoned with a cold finality.

Dante shrugged. "Anybody can make a mistake. Even the best can step over a line if the conditions are right. You talk about your mom sometimes, your sister, your aunt... you never mention your old man. It's like he doesn't exist. Then I find out he does, and what's more he was a Detective just like you. Talk about things that don't add up..."

"I'm nothing like my dad." Lucas slumped a little in his seat and all the anger seemed to drain out of him. For a moment he looked younger than his years- a grim, sad boy. "His actions drove my mom to a breakdown. He destroyed his career, lost his shield, and most of the years I was growing up he was in prison. The man I looked up to was a lie. He didn't exist for me. Because of him, both of my parents were institutionalized for a long time."

Dante nodded slowly. "So he's still not your favorite guy, I get it. But Lucas, your dad is your dad, right? I follow you, it was a shitty deal when you were a kid, but the only thing worse than having a father who let you down is not having a father at all." Dante turned his attention back to the ceremony, the figure of the priest reading from an open bible; the few, lonely rows of detached onlookers. Suddenly his partner's discomfort held no more fascination for him. Instead he felt the stirring of a deep sadness and sympathy. "I never got the chance to look up to my old man, whoever he is. He's probably long dead. You may think you know what that's like, not having a father, but you don't. Trust me. I talked to Mr. Spencer for just minute yesterday, and once he heard that I'm in Homicide, do you know what he said to me? He said 'say hello to Lucky for me.'"

Lucas looked away from the funeral for the first time. Staring blankly at the camera in his lap. "Lucky," he said bitterly, "was my name once... a long time ago. I'm not that kid anymore."

Dante shook his head. "Your parents named you Lucky. Maybe they felt lucky when you came along. It means your dad believed in you, to give you a name like that. Do you know what I would give to ever know that, to feel that about my father? You may not have much respect for my skills as a detective yet, but I'm a pretty observant guy or I wouldn't have made it this far, this fast. When I looked at Luke Spencer I saw a sad old man. A man whose been carrying around a burden on his back for a long time. It looked a lot like the one I see on your shoulders sometimes."

Lucas glanced at his companion as if seeing him for the first time. "What are you, Dr. Phil now? I should be mad as hell at you for getting involved in my business."

"But you're not."

Lucas chuckled. "No, I guess I'm not."

Dante's eyes roamed the funeral scene as the diminutive crowd finally began to disperse. "We're all in this thing together. We're all cogs in some giant cosmic machine. I guess when you realize that, you can believe that 'everyone deserves justice,' or at least a break. Even this dead scumbag... even your old man. Hell, maybe even mine whoever and wherever he is. As much as we'd like to, none of us can do this 'life' thing alone."

Lucas looked back down at the camera, lost in thought.

"Alone..." Dante continued, his voice now tinged with a dawning excitement, "alone... Spencer, this guy, this one here in the dark hoodie, " he pointed, his fingertip broadening against the inner curve of the windshield. "He's leaving alone."

Lucas immediately focused on the scene before the two men. A spare figure in dark jeans, a black hooded sweatshirt concealing all but a hint of brown hair, pale hands and a measured, steady gait.

Dante drew a deep breath and grinned widely. "Come to think of it, this guy stood alone through the whole funeral, a little apart from all the others."

Lucas raised the camera which whirred to life, greedily snapping frame after frame of the lone mourner.

Dante chuckled. "I've got this funny feeling Spencer, like maybe I'm starting to believe in unorthodox tactics. Are we on to something here? I mean look at this guy, he doesn't belong here, he just feels wrong."

Lucas zoomed in and through the camera's dispassionate eye he watched as the figure, a pale young man, turned piercing green eyes his direction as if staring directly into the camera. Lucas snapped a picture. "Smile you little prick," he mumbled. "You're on candid camera."

"We'll have to run this guy's picture, see if we can make an i.d., see if there's some connection. It's thin, but what the hell, it could be a lead right?" Dante tapped his fingers excitedly on the steering wheel. "I've got to hand it to you Spencer, if this pans out you called it."

Lucas glanced over at the younger man. "I lost my focus. You noticed the guy. My instincts wouldn't have mattered without that." He turned his intense stare back to the distant retreating figure. "Besides, it could be nothing. A dead end."

For a few moments both detectives watched the young man, who was leaving the cemetery on foot. In the ensuing silence a new feeling hung in the air of the sedan. For the first time the two young men felt like partners.

"You wanted to drive, so let's get going. We're gonna see where he goes."

Dante slid the transmission into reverse and began maneuvering the car to leave the parking lot.

Lucas spared a glance across the cemetery, to where the dark casket was being lowered into the maw of the earth. The elation he had felt moments before evaporated, and he frowned. "I've got this bad feeling... like if we don't get ahead of this there's going to be a lot more bodies going into the ground."