"Brazil." Mike said to Captain Olsen less than two minutes after he walked out of Steve's treatment room. He had returned to the same payphone in the lobby to give Rudy an update.

"Brazil?" Rudy repeated. "I'll call the airports. If Clark Smith tries to buy a ticket to Rio or Sao Paulo, he won't get very far."

"I don't think he's going to fly. He took Steve's car and he's got cash. I think he's going to drive down there."

"Good God, that's crazy. It's thousands of miles and it's not like it's straight interstate. It's rough and rugged terrain with lousy roads. And then I imagine that he'll be drawing attention to himself in that Porsche. They'll rob in blind down there. "

"I've seen guys like him before on the streets and in the war. He can blend in anywhere and charm the pants off the locals. He's the type that can con the riff raff easily."

"All right then," Rudy accepted Mike's logic and then looked at the clock on the wall. "I doubt if he's left the state yet. We'll redouble our efforts at the airports, just in case, and concentrate on international flights, especially to South America. But I'll also call the Highway Patrol and have them put enforcements at the state line. He could cross into Nevada or Arizona before he leaves the country."

"If he's heading straight south, there are really only two routes between San Francisco and Mexico," Mike added.

"What about Modesto? That's where Steve's from, right? Does Smith have any other family there?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Look, I'll call the sheriff's office here and see what I can find out about Smith, or Stakowski or whatever name he went by when he was here."

"Is Steve doing okay? Does he know what's happening?" Rudy asked.

Mike took a deep sigh. "Steve has a badly broken wrist and they may need to operate. But no, he doesn't know what his father has done."

"Hard luck for him."

"No, I won't accept that, Rudy. I'm going to find Smith and I'm going to squeeze every last dime out of him. The City will get their money back if I have to pay it back myself. I don't want Steve to know about any of this."

"Mike," Rudy began to caution. There may be no choice in the matter.

"I know, Rudy, I know."

Mike paid anoterh quick visit with the ER doctor and learned that Steve would need to have a couple of pins inserted in his wrist to better set the break.

"It's surgery, Lieutenant," the doctor replied. "But it shouldn't take long. We'll admit him for overnight. If all goes well, you can take him home tomorrow."

Mike was sorry that the wrist was that bad, but also knew that Steve needed the rest that an overnight stay would provide him.

The doctor continued. "He's nearly exhausted and has some mild dehydration. We'll get him flushed out with a saline IV, plus we'll put him on an antibiotic drip to keep any infection at bay. He'll be fine. He's young and he's strong," the doctor began.

"Yes, I know." Mike smiled. "I've heard that before."

Mike's meeting with the Modesto city sheriff's office proved valuable.

"Yes, I know Charles Stokowsky," Sheriff Riley answered. "His family had a farm just outside of the city for generations."

"Do you know his son, by chance? Steven Keller?" Mike inquired.

"Yes, good kid. He became a cop in San Francisco. Hey!" Riley suddenly made the connection. "Do you work with him?"

"As a matter of fact, he's my partner."

"Did he ever mention that he co-opted here in my office when he was in high school?" Riley smiled broadly, which it up his blue eyes. Mike took an instant liking to this man. His demeanor was positive and he seemed genuinely interesting in helping the detective.

"Not specifically, but I know he's worked several jobs to get through college," Mike answered as he realized what the sheriff was revealing. "Are you telling me that he used to work for you?"

"He worked after school for a couple hours a day in exchange for high school credit. He filed reports and maintained our bulletin board with the latest information. He kept the coffee pot going and made sure the plants got watered. Pretty much anything a teenager would be allowed to do."

"Amazing. He still does quite a bit of paperwork and makes his share of coffee. Did he go on any runs with you?" Mike asked as he looked around the sheriff's office and tried to imagine an even younger version of his partner.

"We did take him on some of the low risk calls. The whole purpose of him being here was to get a taste for law enforcement."

Mike beamed. "He must have liked it. I have to say, if you are the reason he pursued police work, I owe you my gratitude."

"Well, you are welcome. He was a stand out here," the graying sheriff responded.

"I'm not at all surprised to hear that. He's a good kid. Unfortunately, I'm looking for his father. He's got himself into a bit of trouble."

"Oh? What kind?" Riley asked, but tried not to show any emotion.

"Well, let's just say that I'm hoping it's a misunderstanding."

"A case of sticky fingers?" Riley asked.

"Uh, well, hopefully not. But he does have his son's car and a portion of money that we used as part of a sting operation." Mike was surprised to see that Riley already came to a conclusion about Smith.

"And you think this might just be a misunderstanding?" Riley blinked doubtfully at the detective.

"Well, let's just say that's what I'm hoping for. Say, does he have any relatives here? Anyone that he might go to if, for example, he was going to leave the area for a long time?"

"He's out of favor with his family. There were times when he was needed back and frankly, he let his parents down. So the old family farm went to his cousins and they've not spoken for years."

"Cousins? Would they be in touch with Steve?"

"I don't know," Riley shrugged. "When Steve's mother and sister died in the accident, he went to live with her parents. I think he lost ties with his father's side when that happened."

Mike nodded quietly. "So you know about the car accident that killed Smith's wife and daughter?"

"Sure, I was one of the first responders. It was a bad one. It happened in the downtown area. She ran a red light and was hit by a delivery truck."

"Was Smith around at that point?" Mike inquired.

"How do you mean?"

"Was he and his wife, you know, still together then?"

"No. I was told that he had filed divorce papers. That's why there was always an air of suspicion about that accident."

Mike was surprised at the comment. "I'm not following you."

"The question was rather she did it on purpose or not. I hate to put it that way. It was ruled an accident, but no one will really know what was going through her mind."

"That must have been a terrible situation."

"It was. And you know, as much as Charlie - or Clark or whatever he is calling himself these days – fell out of favor here, I have to tell you that he was devastated at the accident. He blamed himself. It's part of the reason he left town. I remember the few times he came back, he'd try to see Steve, but it was a struggle. I guess the guilt was overwhelming,"

Mike nodded his understanding. "Did Steve ever say anything about the accident while he worked here?"

"Steve has no memory of that day. He was traumatized," Riley explained. "He eventually came out of it okay. He was fortunate to have two of the finest people I know take him in. His grandparents were fantastic."

"But they aren't here now, are they? I tried to get ahold of his grandfather."

"No, you won't find them here – at least very often. Of course, Eloise, the grandmother, died a few years ago. George, the grandfather, is a retired judge and has been teaching law on an extended road trip ever since. Poor guy can't stand to be home without his wife being there. Can you imagine what that must be like?"

"As a matter of fact, I can." Mike answered thoughtfully. He continued, "Let me ask you something, Sheriff."

"Sure."

"Say you were Clark Smith and you were driving through Modesto on your way to points south. Considering this was your home for many years, would there be some place or someone that would make you want to stop?"

"Some place that he'd want to stop? The only place I could think of would be the town cemetery."

tbc