Holding the injured man's right hand, Devitt groped for the call button and pushed it firmly. "Easy, Mike… don't move…"
His left eye still closed, Mike was shaking his head weakly, mumbling his partner's name.
Not wanting to risk hurting him any further, Devitt raised his voice. "Mike, don't move! Please!" He put his now free hand on the lieutenant's left shoulder to hold him down, trying to avoid getting anywhere near the battered right side of his colleague's head.
He heard the wooden door behind him slam open and suddenly a nurse was at his side. "Relax, Mr. Stone," she said loudly and firmly as she crossed to the other side of the bed, leaning over her patient to put her hands on his shoulders and gently pin him down. "We need you stop moving, Mr. Stone…"
Devitt glanced up at her. "Call him Mike…"
She smiled briefly. "Mike, we need you to settle down and stop moving, okay?"
Under her firm and unyielding hands, the injured man stopped struggling. She glanced up at Devitt again. "The doctor's on his way," she said quietly. Then, louder, "That's it, Mike, just relax… you're going to be fine…"
His chest continuing to heave, Mike breathed, "Steve…"
Not sure how to respond, Devitt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them again to see the nurse staring at him with a frown.
"His partner," Devitt mouthed and she nodded.
Still breathing heavily, Mike managed to open his good left eye. Straining to focus, he looked at the nurse then turned his head to towards Devitt, who smiled. "Roy…" he whispered weakly.
Nodding, Devitt squeezed his hand. "You're in the hospital in Eureka. You were in a fight. Do you remember?"
His stare briefly wavering, Mike shook his head slightly. "No…" he almost gasped as a look of fear washed over his bruised and swollen face. "Steve… where's Steve…?" His frightened eyes locked onto Devitt's again.
Hesitating a beat, Devitt had just opened his mouth to reply when the door slammed open again and Cavanagh strode into the room. "Great, he's awake," he announced as he stopped beside Devitt and stared down at his now conscious patient with a grin. "Mr. Stone, I'm Doctor Cavanagh. I've been looking after you. How are you feeling?"
Devitt, almost relieved to be temporarily off the hook, released Mike's hand and stepped away from the bed before he had to make up an excuse as to why Steve Keller wasn't at his partner's bedside.
While the medical staff looked after their patient, Devitt took the chance to slip out into the corridor, heading to the nurses station. They had quickly become used to his presence and they realized, after the vague but informative address by the Police Chief hours earlier, that Lieutenant Devitt and his colleagues would be needing their full cooperation in what was assumed to be a major police operation of grave consequence.
"Any messages?" he asked an older nurse he now knew as Pat.
She smiled broadly as she reached for a sheet of yellow paper pinned to the bulletin board. "Just the one."
"Thanks," he smiled back as he took it and leaned against the counter to read. It was from Healey, letting him know they had visited Patches, met Lassister, found Mike and Steve's car and were just about to have it towed to Colville. Smiling grimly to himself, grateful his sergeants seemed to be making progress – though of what kind he wasn't sure – Devitt folded the paper and put it in his jacket pocket.
He wandered into the waiting room and took a seat. He would wait until Cavanagh was finished before going back in to see Mike. He wanted to find out just how much information he could impart to his injured colleague without threatening his recovery; he knew Mike wouldn't take the news of Steve's disappearance very well.
# # # # #
A black-and-white Colville PD station wagon was sitting in the lot next to the red brick Police Department building when the green Galaxie pulled to a stop at the curb. The tow truck hauling the tan sedan slid up alongside them, as Haseejian got out and pointed at the parking lot. The truck driver was expertly backing the tan Galaxie into a spot at the far end of the lot when Sheriff Manley and Deputy Hathaway exited the building to join them.
After introductions were made all around, Haseejian paid the tow truck operator and the four men studied the car. "I guess the keys are, ah… in Steve's pocket somewhere," Healey said softly, clearing his throat. He smiled grimly at the Colville cops. "Mike always lets him drive."
Nodding understandingly, Manley gestured at his deputy with his chin, raising his eyebrows expectantly. The baby-faced officer took an almost shy step forward and held up a long thin piece of metal. "I, ah, I can open it," he said sofly.
Both San Francisco detectives looked at the slim jim in the youngster's hand and smiled. "Be my guest," Haseejian chuckled, extending a flattened palm towards the sedan as if presenting it as a gift.
With a soft laugh, the deputy stepped to driver's door, slipped the metal strip between the window and the rubber seal and within seconds the metallic snap of the lock disengaging could be heard. He removed the slim jim and opened the door with an almost embarrassed smile. "Misspent youth," he said quietly as he backed away and a grinning Healey opened the door all the way, then slid across the front seat to lift the passenger door handle. Haseejian opened the door as Healey straightened up behind the wheel and started to look around.
Haseejian opened the glove box but there was nothing out of the ordinary inside. Healey groped under the driver's seat but came up with nothing.
Manley, watching from the driver's side, leaned in. "I have a guy coming that'll pop the trunk lock. He should be here any second."
"Great, thanks," Haseejian said as he got out and shut the door. With smiling eyes, he turned to Hathaway. "What, you don't do trunks?"
The young deputy smiled and laughed. "No, sir, sorry, just doors."
"Gotcha." Haseejian turned to Manley. "Listen, ah, about the motel –"
Manley cut him off with a smile. "I've already talked to the manager – hell, she's the owner too. She's getting keys ready for us so as soon as we're finished here, we'll head up there." He gestured towards the main street then to the right. "It's just up the road here a bit, won't take us no time at all to get there."
A beaten-up old blue pickup truck turned into the parking lot and slid to a stop beside them. A tall man in his thirties wearing greased-stained coveralls and an equally grimy John Deere ball cap got out of the truck sporting a broad grin and a very long screwdriver. "Hi, John, Ryan." He nodded at the strangers and, without bothering to wait for an introduction, stepped up to the back of the Galaxie and knelt.
"This won't do any damage at all," he said with a chuckle as he inserted the business end of the screwdriver under the lip of the trunk, rooting it around for a couple of seconds before there was a metallic snap and the lid popped open.
"Thanks, Jack," Manley said with a chuckle as the mechanic stood up and started back to his truck.
"I'll add it to your bill, Sheriff," he called over his shoulder with a laugh as he got into the truck and backed out of the parking lot.
Haseejian lifted the lid as Healey stepped to his side. The only things in the large deep trunk outside the norm were two leather-covered stars and I.D.'s, and two holstered .38 Smith & Wesson Police Specials. Haseejian sighed. "Well, we figured we were going to find these here."
Healey snorted mirthlessly. "Yeah. I don't know what else we expected to find, do you?"
Sadly, Haseejian shook his head.
# # # # #
Devitt quietly opened the door and stepped into the silent hospital room. Cavanagh had told him that Mike was doing well, that he had calmed down and was starting to remember snippets of what had occurred the night before. He also said he thought Mike was aware that something had happened to his partner and that he also thought keeping anything from the injured man at this point might do more harm than good
Walking softly, Devitt approached the bed. Mike's left eye was open, and the grey-haired detective circled the bed to make it easier for Mike to see him. He smiled warmly, resting a hand lightly on his colleague's forearm. "How are you feeling?"
There was a fear and worry etched into the injured man's face Devitt had never seen before. "Roy, where's Steve?"
Devitt squeezed his friend's arm a little tighter. "What do you remember?" he asked quietly. Mike's good eye bored into him.
Though still woozy from the blow to the head, and the pain medication, Mike knew this wasn't his friend and colleague standing at his side; this was a working police lieutenant asking an important question. He inhaled deeply, hoping he could keep his voice calm and even.
"I don't remember everything… but we were playing pool… and these bikers came in. There were a lot of them… twenty, thirty… I'm not sure…" He paused and swallowed, trying to lick his dry lips.
"Do you want some water?" Devitt asked, starting to reach for the glass and straw on the bedside table.
"No, I'm okay." Mike tried to shake his head, gasping in pain at the effort. With a low moan, he refocused on his colleague and inhaled carefully. "They just came at us, Roy… honest to god, Steve and I didn't do anything. We're not crazy, we were outnumbered…" He paused, trying to remember details that remained elusive.
"Did they know you were cops?"
Another brief, and careful, shake of the head. "No, we'd put our guns and badges in the trunk. They just seemed to resent us being there…" Mike closed his eye as a wave of pain washed over him and he gasped and stiffened. His right hand drifted towards the sheet over his stomach.
Devitt's hand tightened again. "You okay? You want me to call the doctor?"
"No, Roy, I'm okay… I'm okay…" He lay quietly for several long seconds as Devitt watched, his brows knit in concern.
Finally, with a soft but long exhale, Mike relaxed. He opened his eye but kept his hand over his stomach. "They went after me first… I got punched in the mouth, then they threw me against the wall…" His voice wavered slightly. "That's when I got stabbed…" He closed his eye. "I don't know what they did to Steve, but he was on his knees on the floor… then they hit him with a pool cue…" His voice was so faint Devitt had to lean closer to hear him.
Mike swallowed heavily and opened his eye. "Where is he, Roy?"
# # # # #
Healey opened the motel door, leading Haseejian into the room. Steve's open suitcase was on the luggage rack beside the bureau with the small TV. The bed was half-made; a balled-up tie, an empty bottle of Coke and an ashtray overflowing with sunflower seed shells on the table beside the bed.
Healey crossed to the bureau and opened the top drawer. With a sadly triumphant smile, he took something out of the drawer and turned to his colleague.
Haseejian looked at the two police notebooks in his partner's hand and nodded. "If there's one thing I've learned about working with Mike, he makes you take really detailed notes." He looked up to meet Healey's grim smile of agreement. "Looks like you and I have our work cut out for us tonight."