Chapter 11

Rudy allowed Mike to gather his thoughts for a moment. Steve had such promise within the department. He was young, smart and energetic. Brass had noticed him early and pegged him as management material. Neither man wanted Steve to suffer any career setbacks and because of this, Rudy pressed on. He knew Steve's only chance would be for someone to find his father and recovery the stolen money.

"I'm sorry, Mike. You know how this looks. The Mayor is going to have my head on a platter if we don't get that money back." Captain Olsen's words came through loud and clear as Mike slouched against the pay phone stall in the hospital lobby.

Mike knew what was coming. If Smith stole the money the police used for the drop, even a small portion of it, that simply didn't bode well for Steve's future. The police department had no place for someone whose family could put them in such a compromising position. It wasn't fair, but it was certainly understandable.

"Do you have an APB out on Smith? What about Steve's car?" Mike asked quietly.

"There's an APB out on one Charlie Stakowski and his aliases, plus Steve's Porsche, statewide. So far no leads," Rudy responded. "I have to tell you, Mike, he left the station over a couple of hours ago – he could be anywhere."

Mike remembered the conversation with Steve in the car before they drove to the hospital in Modesto. "Steve talked to him this morning. He apparently called the police station before I got there. The deputy said he was rattled after the call."

"Do you think he knows something?" Rudy asked innocently.

"Of course not!" Mike snapped.

Rudy was not surprised at the sharp response, but knew he clarify his question. "Now before you get all defensive about your boy, I'm just asking whether or not Steve remembers if he said anything that might have been a clue to where was headed."

Mike sighed. "I'm sorry, Rudy. You're right. Let me see what I can find out. I'll call you later."

The senior detective hung up the phone and walked deliberately through the corridor to Steve's treatment room. Along the way he wondered how he was going to confront Steve about his father without sending the young man over the edge.

Charlie Stakowski knew where he was headed. He had what few possessions he owned in a suitcase in the trunk of the Porsche and a stack of cash in the glove compartment. Five thousand dollars in Latin America would take him far. Mentally, he had it mapped out. He'd get out of California sooner rather than later, by cutting east. But rather than going northeast through Sacramento and Reno, he'd cut down through Bakersfield and past Edwards Air Force Base. That would take him into Arizona. If he were lucky he'd cross the Mexican border the next day.

After that, the trip would be easy. He could take his time traveling through Mexico, then through Central America and then eventually make his way to the East Coast of Brazil. It would take weeks, but as inexpensive as it was down south, he could take his time and still arrive in Rio de Janeiro with most of what he'd taken.

He smiled slightly as he drove South on Hwy 5. Pushing the accelerator under his foot, he felt a sense of freedom and possibility for a new beginning. It gave him new hope.

A new life, he thought to himself. And I'll establish a new name and create my own past. Maybe that's what I need, Stakowski said to himself. This will give me another chance to start over.

But then he began to reflect on the chances he'd already had to this point. I've had some chances. More than many men ever get in a lifetime.

Stakowski looked back on his childhood – a son of a multi-generational farm family in central California who immigrated to the region over a hundred years ago. He rebuffed farm life, especially after seeing the world during the War. The South Pacific with its deep blue waters held mixed feelings for him. While the injuries changed his life forever, the South Pacific was where he learned to see the world differently. Despite trying, he could never go back to the simple life he knew.

But then that's where Steve's mother came into the picture. Before the war, she worked in an implement shop and Charlie would often come in to pick up parts or to have some sort of service done on his father's farm equipment. After several weeks, Charlie finally asked her out for dinner and not long after that they fell in love.

Within a year, they were married. It was 1942 and she had no idea that she was having a child until after he shipped out. She bore the man a very lovely girl with ginger hair. Her days waiting for him were spent preparing a proper home for when the family would be reunited. She prayed every day for his safe return and cherished every moment she had with their daughter. In some ways, it was her happiest time.

After he returned from the service, he couldn't bear the thought of going back to the family farm and his old life. He had wanderlust. There were images in his mind he wanted to pursue and injuries to his body and soul that needed to heal. Still to his credit, Private Charlie Stakowski returned to Modesto and tried to be the husband and father that Gwyneth and Charlotte deserved for most of the next four years.

When the family expanded, things changed. Despite being the son Stakowski could be proud of, another baby simply proved to be too much. One random night, the farmer left his family to run an errand. He never came home. His wife was so distraught over their separation that she became very distracted. Tragically, while her mind was on other things, she and her daughter were killed in a traffic accident. Steve, who was only three at the time, was in the back seat and survived. He was taken in by her parents and raised as their own.

Charlie Stakowski saw the entire situation as his biggest failure and regret. Deep down, he truly loved his wife, but the guilt of her death only pushed him further down the spiral.

Driving down the highway, he shook himself back to the present. Reasoning that he was leaving the country for good, something urged him to say 'good-bye' one last time to his wife and daughter. It was closure that he needed to have. Having past the interchange that led to Modesto, Smith turned back up to Hwy 5 to make the cutover.

Mike walked into the treatment room and found a nurse taking his partner's vital signs.

"How is he?" he asked as he saw Steve's left arm covered in bags of ice. The pain that was earlier etched on his face was much less and he appeared to be drifting asleep.

"We're getting the swelling down by packing his arm in ice. We've also given him something for the pain. It's done a lot to relax him."

Mike nodded as he noticed that Steve's eyes were nearly shut. He correctly figured that this might be the most relaxed the young man had been for days. He hated the idea of disrupting his peace, but knew that he needed to get some answers on Stakowski's whereabouts.

"Steve?" Mike called out. The nurse make a quick departure as Mike began speaking. "Steve, wake up."

"Hmm?" There wasn't more he was able to say. He was lost somewhere between a dream and reality.

"Steve, I need to ask you something," Mike pressed as he moved closer to the exam table.

No reply came, so Mike shook Steve's uninjured arm until he watched a dazed expression come over his face. "Listen to me, Steve. When you talked to your dad this morning, did he mention what he was going to do after the arrests were made?"

Steve struggled to awaken himself. "What?"

"We need to find out where your dad is. There are a few questions we still need to ask him." Mike was choosing his words very carefully.

Steve was quiet for a moment and then became more alert as the realization struck him that his father had done something wrong. "What did he do?"

"Nothing," Mike lied. "He took off before the boys back home were finished."

Wanting to believe that was all it was, Steve again closed his eyes. His attention span was short and he thought little more of Mike's comment.

Mike saw what had happened and pressed for an answer. "Steve, did he say where he was going now that everything was over?"

Steve woke again. A frown fell over his face as he remembered, "He said he was going to Brazil. He wanted to start over again."

"Brazil?! That's a long way for a man to go. Was he leaving today?"

"Yes."

"He wasn't even going to say good-bye to you?" Mike was instantly enraged and his voice became louder by the second. "He wasn't concerned about how you got back home or whether you were even well?"

"He wanted me to come with him. He said it'd be good for us to get to know one another." Steve relayed this information without a trace of emotion.

Mike sat in silence and for reasons he did not understand, felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. For Steve to have accomplished what he had to this point only to hitch his wagon onto such a loose cannon was something Mike didn't want to consider. "What did you tell him?"

"I said, 'no'. I have my life here and my job. There's nothing that could possibly get me to go with him."

Mike looked away as he realized his partner's life could change for the worse if they didn't find his father and locate the money. Even then, it wasn't a sure bet that Steve would have the opportunity to pursue the life and career he sought.

Mike sighed as he wondered about his next steps. "You take it easy. I need to make a few calls. I'll be back."