As the two detectives watched through the windshield of their cruiser and both windows of the one in front, the driver's side door of the middle pick-up, which was slightly ahead of the others straddling the white line on the county road, opened and a tall old man emerged.

"That's J.B.," Mike murmured, and Steve turned to him. The older man's face was expressionless; as well as he knew him, Steve couldn't tell if Mike was unnaturally calm or on full alert. They both heard Sergeant Pearson unsnap his leather holster.

The door to the lead KSP patrol car opened and the driver, Trooper Porebski, climbed out slowly. Caudill had stayed beside his pick-up, but everyone had noticed that there were no gun-toting good ol' boys in the beds and each truck just had a driver. The family patriarch even made a point of keeping both his empty hands in plain sight.

The gap between the two groups of vehicles was about a hundred feet. Porebski crossed halfway to the old man and stopped. In the second car, they could hear voices but couldn't make out words. The tones seemed civil.

After several seconds, Porebski turned and started back towards the cruisers. He walked past his own and up to the driver's side window of the second. All three pairs of eyes in the car bored into him as he leaned down and spoke to Pearson. "He wants to talk to Lieutenant Stone."

Everybody froze for a split second, Steve's eyes snapping to his partner. Pearson turned in the seat. "It's up to you, Mike. Do you want to talk to him?"

With a snort and wry smile, Mike asked rhetorically, "What chance do we have of getting out of here if I don't?" His smile widened slightly. "He has no beef with me. And I kind of want to hear what he has to say."

Pearson nodded. "Okay. Let me get your door," he said as he reached for the handle and opened his own door.

"Mike," Steve said quietly, elongating the name.

The blue eyes turned towards him and there was almost a serenity in the stare. "It'll be okay," he said reassuringly as Pearson opened the door and helped him out. Wincing, Mike leaned back stiffly towards his partner. "Stay in the car," he warned, a superior officer issuing an order.

"Do you want me to …?" Pearson asked as Mike straightened up and the trooper let go of his arm.

"No, thanks," Mike said with a smile, putting the fedora on and staring beyond the two cruisers to where Caudill stood patiently in the strong midday sun. "No, J.B. and I'll be just fine."

With a slight smile and an open face, trying not to show any discomfort, Mike walked slowly and deliberately towards the old man. Caudill's face remained impassive, and he waited until the cop was just a couple of feet away before the ghost of a smile briefly washed across his stern, thin lips, barely visible in the white bushiness of the unkempt beard.

"Yer still alive," he said brusquely with a nod, and Mike's smile got a little wider.

Inclining his head, Mike chuckled, "Yes, I am. Surprised?"

Caudill's flashed his teeth and almost laughed. "I kinda figgered ya were a tough bastard like me." His pale blue eyes bored into the Californian.

Mike chuckled again and, even though he had felt no intimidation, he unwound even more. "Is, ah, is there something I can do for you?" he asked simply with a disarming smile.

Caudill cocked his head and stared at Mike without blinking, then his lips curled again and he shook his head. His right hand slowly drifted towards his denim overall pocket and Mike's smile disappeared. He could sense the two KSP troopers behind him snap to attention and knew their hands would be on their gun grips.

"Relax," Caudill drawled, "I ain't packin." His hand came out of his pocket with a black leather case. "We found this on the floor after ya… ah… left…" he explained with a gentle chuckle, extending his hand. "I figgered ya might need it after ya git back t' Californie."

Keeping his eyes on Caudill's, Mike reached out and took the case. He knew without looking it was his badge and I.D. His smile reappearing, he nodded. "Thank you. I appreciate it very much."

"Yer welcome," Caudill growled, watching as the San Francisco detective slipped the case into his pocket without opening it, without checking it. They locked stares in silence for several seconds, then Caudill blinked and took a step back toward the open door of the truck. Holding Mike's hard gaze, he reached into the truck and pulled out a small burlap sack. He held it out, inclining his head slightly. "I also figgered ya might care tuh sample the local hootch. We wouldn't want ya leavin' the state without a jar o' the best 'shine this side a the Mississip'."

Mike took the bag, dropping his head slightly and chuckling, both at the gesture and the irony. He successfully turned his mirth into a grateful smile. "Why, thank you, J.B.," he said earnestly, knowing he was taking a chance using the patriarch's 'first name' but somehow also knowing that, at this point, he could get away with it. He saw the old man flinch, then a wide toothy smile split the beard. A deep belly laugh filled the air around him, and Mike knew without looking that probably everyone standing behind him was exchanging glances of surprise and confusion.

His laugh subsiding, Caudill turned once more towards the truck. "Y'all have a safe trip back out west there an', ah… let's make this yer one an' only trip t' these parts… if ya catch my drift…?"

Chuckling, beginning to turn away himself, Mike nodded. "Oh, there's no worry about that," he laughed, knowing the threat was not just an idle one said in jest. He heard the truck groan as the old man got behind the wheel.

"Oh, ah, Mike!" the old man called out and, chuckling at the deliberate use of his own first name, Mike stopped and turned back, raising his eyebrows. Caudill started the engine then stuck his head out the window. "I like the hat," he cackled as he threw the pick-up into reverse.

Shaking his head and grinning, Mike walked back to the cruisers. Behind him he could hear all three trucks back up, turn around and leave. By the time he returned to the second car, they were disappearing down the road.

With a broad smile at Porebski and Pearson, who had followed him to the rear door, Mike carefully bent down, leaned in and tossed the canvas bag on the seat next to his partner before getting into the car. Frowning with curiosity, Steve picked it up. As soon as he felt the weight, he knew exactly what it was and, as Mike slowly and gently settled himself on the seat, they looked at each other and tried not to laugh. Rolling his eyes and biting both lips in an effort to keep mum, Steve carefully laid the bag on the floor beside the bourbon bottle.

Clearing his throat theatrically, and before Pearson got himself back behind the wheel, Steve asked facetiously, "Ah, anything else you care to share with the rest of the class?"

Feigning innocence, Mike turned from looking out the window. "Hmmm, what?"

"So, ah, you and ol' J.B. best buds now, or… what?"

Mike stared at him, smiling slightly, then shifted carefully so he could reach into his left pants pocket. He pulled out the leather case and flipped it open; both the star and the I.D. were there.

Steve looked up from the case to meet Mike's eyes. "He gave you your badge back?"

Mike nodded, still smiling. "He said they found it in the house."

Steve's eyes drifted back to the case. "Sonofabitch," he mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief.

Mike looked up. He could see Pearson looking at him in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkled from the grin they couldn't see. The lead car had started to pull out and, shaking his head and chuckling, the KSP sergeant shifted into Drive and began to follow.

# # # # #

The trip back to Louisville was definitely a lot shorter than the one out; local knowledge of the highways and byways helped, as did the lights and sirens mode of transportation. They arrived at the airport hotel a couple of hours before sunset.

Remarkably, both San Francisco detectives had managed to nod off for a bit during the trip. But the constant jarring of the moving car had taken a toll on the older man and he was in a lot of pain when he finally managed to get out of the car.

He declined the offer of dinner in the hotel restaurant, opting instead for just heading up to his room and lying down. Already checked in, Pearson and Porebski escorted the four Californians to their rooms, Steve electing to share the room with his partner.

Pearson deposited their suitcases, and the bottle of bourbon and canvas bag, just inside the door of their room, telling Steve he would wait outside the door. Mike, the heavy bandage like a brace holding his shoulders back to allow the collarbone to heal correctly, was sitting on the edge of the bed with his eyes closed.

Steve swung over and sat beside him on the bed, laying the crutches on the floor. "Look, why don't you just lie down and take it easy for awhile. I'll go to dinner and bring you something back later, okay?"

Keeping his eyes closed, Mike nodded.

"Where are your pain pills?"

"I'm not supposed to take another one till 9."

"Doctor O'Neil said you could take one if the pain got to be too much, remember? I think this qualifies. Where are they?"

"Shirt pocket."

Steve fished them out then got up and hopped to the bathroom. He came back a minute later with a glass of water and a pill in one hand, and a large bath towel over his arm. "Here, take this." He handed over the pill first, then the glass.

While Mike swallowed the pill, Steve laid the towel on the end of the bed and began to roll it. On Mike's quizzical look, he smiled. "Remember what O'Neil said about using a rolled up towel or something like it to put between your shoulder blades when you lie down?"

As Mike watched, Steve took the pillows from the second bed, retrieved the extra pillow from the closet, and stacked them all at the head of Mike's bed. "What are you gonna -?" he started to ask but Steve cut him off with a look.

"I'll get the desk to send some more up when I go down there." Finished piling the pillows, he placed the towel vertically in the middle. "There. Now, let's get you comfortable," he said as he reached down and slipped Mike's shoes off. "What say we leave your clothes on for now?"

"Works for me," Mike said quietly as he slowly pushed himself towards the head of the bed with his left hand. His little gasps of pain were disconcerting but when he finally got settled against the pillows and the towel, he looked up at Steve and smiled. "Ohhh," he breathed, "that actually feels pretty good. Thanks."

Standing over him, Steve grinned. "Good, and you're welcome." He bent down to pick up the crutches. "You try to sleep. What do you want me to bring back?"

"I don't care," Mike moaned, his eyes closed, "surprise me. But try not to make it deep-fried, okay?"

# # # # #

Steve swung himself out into the lobby when the elevator doors opened, his eyes scanning the large room for a familiar face. He quickly spotted Olsen, Pierce and Pearson, who were huddled together taking to a couple of other uniformed KSP officers.

As he got closer, he began to make out their voices, and he recognized one of the newcomers right away. "Trooper Caudill, great to see you again," he smiled as he joined them.

"Great to see you too, Inspector, it really is," Caudill said warmly as they shook hands. "Hopefully this time we can have that little talk, right?"

Chuckling, Steve nodded. "I sure hope so. And it's Steve, okay?"

"You got it, Steve – if you call me Daryl."

"That's not a problem."

"You two know each other already?" Olsen asked with a frown, an index finger swinging from one young man to the other.

"Ah, yeah, Rudy, we kinda do," Steve said with a sly grin, "and I'm kinda surprised you don't. Daryl was the officer guarding my door at the hospital the night you arrived – the one you said you were going to ask about where to get something to eat?"

"Oh, ah, well, I, ah, I – well, there was a lot on my mind that night, two of my best men had been shot –"

"It's okay, sir," Caudill interrupted smoothly with a grin, "I understand completely. As a matter of fact, I think I just told you where to find a decent pizza, didn't I? Hardly something to remember." He looked at Steve and winked.

"Well, ah, he seems to remember you pretty well," Olsen blustered, pointing at Steve.

Balancing on the crutches, the young inspector leaned towards the captain and whispered sotto voce, "Yeah, well, Rudy, Daryl's gonna be one of those guys I'll never forget. He's the guy who saved my life in the woods that night. And you just 'met' his grandfather."