Healey glanced at Haseejian, successfully keeping the surprise from showing on his face. The Armenian sergeant, who hadn't taken his eyes from Chris Miller, smiled with a slight frown. "What do you mean 'they run the place'?" The question sounded innocent.

Miller chuckled almost in relief, realizing that he had something the detectives wanted to know, something that could help in their investigation. He'd been fascinated by police work since he was a kid and was still toying with the idea of becoming a cop.

He glanced almost guiltily at his friends but didn't see any resistance. "Well, ah, they're there all the time, those bikers. They've been there almost every time we have. Right?" He looked at Mitchell and Burke again and they both nodded.

"Do you know which one of them is their… leader, I guess you could call it?"

"You mean, like, the boss?" Mitchell asked.

Healey nodded. The three young men exchanged glances and shrugs. "Not really," Burke piped up, "all of them are assholes. When we're shooting pool and they come in, we give up the table pretty fast."

"Why is that?" Haseejian asked casually, the hair on the back of his neck beginning to stand.

Mitchell snorted mirthlessly. "The first time we were playing and they came in…? They were all over us, blocking our shots, bumping into us… It didn't take long to realize that we'd better get the hell out of there before they beat the shit out of us."

"Yeah," Burke added as they warmed to the subject, "one of 'em even picked up my hamburger and took a big bite out of it!"

"Yeah, I remember that!" Miller laughed then remembered where he was and his smile instantly disappeared.

Chuckling, Healey sat back and smiled. "So as far as you guys know, the waitresses and the bartender, they know these bikers, right?"

"Oh yeah," Mitchell nodded enthusiastically, "I don't even think the bikers have to pay… I've never seen any money changing hands when we've been there. Have you?" he asked his friends and they shook their heads.

Haseejian glanced at his partner. "Okay, fellas, well, thanks a lot, you guys have been a big help." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty, giving it to Mitchell. "Here, why don't you get yourselves a burger and a Coke, on us."

Grinning, Mitchell took the bill. "Thanks." The three young men got up and were turning away when Mitchell swung back. "Listen, um, the other detectives we talked to the other day, they said they were going to try to find out what happened to Craig." He hesitated for a beat. "I, ah, I really hope you do. I, ah…" He glanced at the others. "We miss him."

Healey smiled grimly. "We'll do our best, son."

# # # # #

Mike was awake and sitting up when Devitt finally got back to the room.

"How are you feeling?" the grey-haired lieutenant asked with a smile as he approached the bed.

Mike's eye had immediately traveled to the small object Devitt was carrying. Ignoring the inquiry he gestured with his chin toward his colleague's hand. "What's that?"

With a slightly peeved snort, Devitt put his hand behind his back. "Hold your horses, will you? Something's come up, and I'm going to show you a Polaroid and I want you to tell me if you recognize the guy."

Mike watched, frowning, as Devitt raised his hand and gave him the square colour photo. The blue eye had scarcely glanced at the picture when it snapped back to Devitt's face. "That's him. Is he dead?" He was in full cop mode.

Devitt nodded. "Yeah."

"What the hell happened?"

Devitt explained what Chief Ryan had told him, about the two bikers being deliberately knocked from their bikes just outside Eureka, the bald biker dying and the other expected to survive.

Before Mike could comment, Devitt held up a hand. "Don't worry, we're all over it. We have a guard on the injured biker and the doctors have told us he could be able to talk by tomorrow so I'm gonna have Norm and Dan come back in the morning and we'll see what we can get outa him."

Mike had been staring expressionlessly at the photo and now he looked at his colleague again. "What will you try to get out of him?"

"Well, we want to know what happened to Steve, of course, and if he's the guy that kicked you, then the odds are he knows. But the guys have been busy in Crocker, and they've uncovered some interesting stuff."

"Like what?"

Devitt looked at him closely. Mike still looked like hell but it was easy to see he was definitely on the mend. "I'll let them tell you in the morning so you get it right from the horse's mouth, so to speak. But it's good, we're making progress."

Mike stared at him evenly. "I want to be there tomorrow when you talk to the biker."

Even before he'd finished the sentence, Devitt started to shake his head. "That is not happening and you know it. I know they're going to get you up tomorrow but only to sit in a chair and maybe take a short walk down the corridor. So don't push your luck."

Mike's inhale was sharp and pointed. "Roy, you said I wouldn't be shut out of –"

"And you won't be… I promise," Devitt interrupted, "but be reasonable, Mike, you're not up to it yet and you know it. All you're going to do is slow your recovery down and then you won't be of any use to us… or to Steve. And you don't want that, do you?" He was staring at the bedridden man as if daring him to argue.

Finally Mike looked away and sighed. Smiling sympathetically, Devitt patted his friend's arm. "I know," he said quietly. "But trust us, Mike, the guys know what to ask. We'll get all we can out of that guy, even if I have to hold Norm back from beating the shit out of him."

Mike's head snapped back towards him, frowning in alarm, only to meet Devitt's mischievous smile. After a couple of silent seconds, he began to smile and shake his head. Devitt laughed, putting his hand on Mike's shoulder and squeezing.

# # # # #

Haseejian raised his eyebrows and nodded. "You're right, these are really good," he finally managed to get out after he swallowed, gesturing towards Sheriff Manley with what was left of half a BLT.

The Colville cop nodded and chuckled, lowering his voice. "Like I told your colleagues, it's the only thing that is."

The two San Francisco detectives laughed. Healey glanced at Haseejian then leaned over the table. "So John, we had an interesting day today." As they ate, Manley was brought up to speed about what their interviews had produced.

Manley sat back. "So every one of the staff said that Mike was in there alone? Both days he was there?"

Healey nodded, his eyebrows raised. "Yeah… just like what Lassiter said they told his deputies on the night the assault happened."

Nodding slowly, Haseejian pulled his chair a little closer, pushing his empty plate away and resting his forearms on the table. "So the question now is, are they in on this… whatever it is… altogether? Or did Lassiter get to the bar staff and somehow… I don't know… coerced them into backing up his story?"

The others stared at him, all of them mulling this over, but none of them said anything. Healey sat back and a grim half-smile curled his lips. "Oh yeah, you're gonna like this," he almost chuckled as he stared at Manley. "Lassiter did make one slip, and I don't think he realized it. I mean, it took Norm and me awhile to pick up on it, it went by so fast."

Manley's forehead creased even further, intrigued.

Healey's smile grew as he glanced at his partner. "He said 'If it was a couple of my guys, I'd want to do the same.'"

The Colville sheriff's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. "Son of a bitch…" He closed his eyes and a soft smile curled his lips as he brought his hands in front of his face in a praying gesture. "Oh please, please let me be the one to finally snap the cuffs on that little piece of shit when we finally figure this all out."

Haseejian laughed. "It'll be our pleasure, believe me. But we gotta get there first."

"Yeah," Healey said as he took one of Steve's notebooks out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. "There's a note that Steve made that we can't figure out," he said as he opened the book and flipped a few pages. "It's all by itself, no explanation."

"Shoot."

"Company town."

Manley snorted. "That really has nothing to do with the investigation; it's about Colville." He explained to the big-city cops about the town's history and its decline. When he finished, Healey frowned, looking down at the notebook. "I wonder why he made that note…" he mused quietly, then shook his head with a facial shrug and put the book back in his pocket. "John, I know Crocker is in another jurisdiction, but is there some way we can get complete background checks on everyone that works at Patches."

The sheriff nodded. "Sure, I can get Ryan and Carole to put a file together, but it won't be complete. But, say, you guys are going into Eureka tomorrow. Crocker has a weekly paper, the Courier. It's been publishing for decades. The library in Eureka has every issue on microfiche. And the Courier, like every weekly I've ever seen, has a regular column about the locals. I'll bet you can get a lot of information there as well."

Healey glanced at his partner and smiled. "Sounds like we're gonna have a busy day tomorrow."

# # # # #

Haseejian knocked softly on the wooden door. "Hey," Devitt grinned when he opened it and took a step back, allowing the two sergeants into the room.

Mike, in a hospital gown, bathrobe and socks, was sitting in the mustard yellow armchair beside the bed, the IV line in the back of his left hand. His head was still bandaged, his right eye still swollen and purple, but his lip was back to normal size and he sported a welcoming smile.

"Well, look at you," Healey sighed happily as he stepped deeper into the room, allowing the door to close behind him. "Great to see you up, Mike." He reached out and they shook hands.

"Dan," Mike nodded in greeting, "good to see you. Norm."

Haseejian grinned. "Mike. You're looking pretty good. How are you feeling?"

Mike tilted his head slightly. "Well, as good as I can expect, I guess. It still hurts."

"I bet." He hefted the suitcase in his right hand. "I packed your stuff. I figured you needed it here more than back in the motel room."

"Thanks, Norm. It'll be great to brush my teeth again," Mike chuckled.

An awkward silence filled the room.

Devitt took the suitcase. "I'll, ah, I'll just put it in the closet," he said suddenly.

Healey looked at his boss. "Listen, Mike, I know we haven't gotten very far yet, but we're not –"

Mike raised a hand and cut him off. "Dan, don't apologize. I know you're doing everything you can."

Haseejian nodded soberly. "We'll get him back, Mike."

"I know you will."

There was a knock on the door and Healey turned to open it. Eureka Police Chief Ryan frowned briefly in confusion then nodded, stepping into the room. Devitt made the hasty introductions. Ryan looked at the two sergeants. "I just got word that Robert 'Mongo' Porter is ready to have visitors."

"'Mongo'?" Devitt echoed with a smirk.

Ryan cocked his head and smiled. "It seems all those biker guys have a nickname." He shook his head in annoyance, a little less than impressed. "We got his real name from the driver's license in his back pocket." He looked at Healey. "He's in a lot of pain but he's awake. Shall we go and have a little talk?" He smiled conspiratorially.

Healey stared at Ryan with his own anticipatory smile then turned to his colleagues.

Mike was staring at him soberly. "Find Steve," the injured lieutenant pleaded quietly.

Healey's smile disappeared. "We will," he promised softly.