Steve swallowed, clearing his throat again with a quick cough and glancing at Mike before he spoke. "Oh, I, ah, I just heard about him from Bobby Cox; I was talking to him just before we came down here. I wanted to know how Cole Harrison was doing."
Both Newman and Jenkins stared at the inspector for a few long beats before Newman shifted slightly, looking back at the mug shot on the desk. "Yeah, ah, he showed up on the pier last night, we're assuming to take out Donaldson and the other guy on the boat. He had this big-ass .44 with a silencer." He paused for a split second and glanced up at Steve before continuing. "It was a good thing Bobby got the drop on him or this all could've turned out a hell of a lot worse than it did."
Steve nodded, keeping his gaze on the desk, ostensibly looking at the photos but trying not to meet the intense blue eyes that were burning a hole in the side of his head.
"So, ah, Mike," Jenkins said a little louder then necessary, causing both Homicide detectives to start slightly, "we know this is a murder investigation now, but you can't be involved anymore as you're a witness… and a victim," he added softly, "and Steve…" He turned to the younger man, his brow still furrowed. "You're gonna need to take a couple of days off and let your ribs heal, and that's not me or Gary talking, that's from your own captain."
"I know you'd like to have your own guys on this, Mike," Newman took over, looking at his Homicide counterpart, "but Kyle and I know more about this case than anybody else right now, even you two, so we'd like to keep going with it. But we wanted to run it by you first and get your approval. You're the man on this, it's your case, and we'll do whatever you want us to do." Newman finished with a curt nod then he and Jenkins waited patiently.
Mike, who knew he was being shown the utmost professional courtesy and respect, glanced at Steve, whose expression remained neutral, then looked down. He took a deep breath and raised his head. "You're right, it's your case now. Steve and I are your witnesses, and we'll back off. You guys do what you have to do, and if you want to use any of my men, then you do it with my blessing."
Both Vice lieutenants visibly relaxed, and Newman's tense face exploded in a broad grin. He held out his right hand as he exhaled loudly. "Thanks, Mike, seriously…. thank you. I know you and Steve did all the groundwork on this baby and I hate like hell to take it away –"
"You're not taking it away from us," Mike interrupted, shaking his head and Newman's hand. "Please don't think of it like that. We both knew going in that if we used ourselves as bait, chances are we'd no longer be just investigating this gang but we'd become victims or witnesses… and, I guess, we both did, in different ways."
"Yeah," Jenkins chuckled, glancing from one partner to the other, "just by looking at you two right now, I'd've said Steve was the one that'd been kidnapped. You look fine," he said to Mike with a grin and a chuckle.
Mike smiled smugly and looked at Steve, who laughed, dropping and shaking his head. With a short, sharp laugh, Mike said to Newman, "So, what do you need from us right now, Gary?"
Newman's smile disappeared quite suddenly and he glanced at Steve. "Listen, ah, Mike, could I have a word with you… in private?" he asked, gesturing with his head to his office across the room.
Mike hesitated for a split second, his eyes snapping from Steve to Jenkins then back to Newman. "Sure… sure, Gary, no problem."
As the Vice lieutenant started away, Mike fell into step behind him then turned back to his partner. "Steve, ah, I think I'm gonna hang around here for the rest of the day. I want you to get yourself home and take it easy for a couple of days, let those ribs heal, okay?"
Steve frowned. "Mike, I –"
"If Olsen told these guys that you need to take a couple of days off, you need to take a couple of days off. Do I make myself clear?" The stern blue eyes bored into his own and there was no room for misinterpretation. Mike rarely gave him orders; that just wasn't his style. This was as close to an order as he had heard in months, if not years.
Still staring into his partner's eyes, Steve nodded curtly. "Yes, sir," he said quietly and watched Mike flinch. Then the older man turned on his heel and followed Newman to his office.
Jenkins watched the young inspector silently from under a lowered brow. Steve glanced at him then took a deep breath. "Well, I guess I have my marching orders, don't I?" he said lightly, trying to find a smile.
Jenkins smiled wanly, nodding slightly and tilting his head. "We'll, ah, we'll get in touch with you if we need something, don't worry about that," he said sympathetically, "but you really need to get out of here for awhile, all right? Do what Mike says… go home, get better and then get back to work, okay?"
Steve looked from Jenkins across the room to where Mike and Newman were sitting, deep in conversation, in the Vice lieutenants office. He sighed heavily, nodded at Jenkins and slowly left the office.
# # # # #
"So we know he was there last night… it, ah, it wasn't too hard to figure out, once we knew the LTD was gone and he was the only one who'd stayed behind with it."
Mike was staring at the floor, his face expressionless as Newman filled him in on the events of the previous night on the pier in Sausalito.
"Cox tried to cover for him…" Newman started to chuckle slightly, "and he did a hell of a job of it. I think he covered all the… broad strokes, shall we say, but when we get Bobby in here and really grill him…. Just to let you know, we're cutting him some slack right now because of Cole but by tomorrow… well, there're just too many loose ends that we don't have answers to and I don't think Bobby's gonna be able to tie them up for us. At least not truthfully."
Mike brought his right hand to his mouth and pulled on his lower lip, his gaze unfocused.
"We'd warned him, Mike… we told Steve he couldn't be in on the raids or the arrests and he promised he wouldn't. We had authorization from the Sausalito PD for Bobby and Cole to be over there and make arrests if it came to that, but only them. We got SPD to stay away so nobody's hand was tipped, and they were good with that.
"We, ah, we were expecting Bobby and Cole to arrest Danny. We weren't expecting the guy in the Duster to show up. And nobody was expecting that third guy, the guy in the black sedan."
Newman took a deep breath and sagged where he sat on the edge of his desk. "I'm not ratting him out to you, Mike, but I think you should know what when on last night. What he did was so…" he paused and swallowed heavily, "he stepped so far over the line… but if he wasn't there, if he hadn't disobeyed every order we gave him, Cole and Bobby would be dead, I've no doubt about that."
The Vice lieutenant watched as Mike continued to stare at the floor, breathing and blinking slowly, taking in his every word.
"We haven't talked to Olsen about it yet, but we'll have to, you know that, right? I wanted you to know first… I want you to know what Kyle and I know… it's the least we can do… This could get very, very dicey for Steve – hell, for all of us… We just wanted you to know…"
An uncomfortable silence filled the room for several long seconds then Mike looked up slowly; his smile was sadly melancholic. He started to get up. "Thanks, Gary," he said quietly, not meeting the other man's eyes.
"So, ah, so do you want us to take this to Olsen or do you want to do it yourself?" Newman asked gently, getting to his feet as well.
Mike shook his head slowly. "No, ah, thanks, I'll do it. He's my partner, right?" He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with a facial shrug then held out his right hand. "Thanks for being honest with me, Gary. I appreciate it."
"No problem, Mike." He shook hands then managed a smile. "It's great to see you're okay."
The Homicide lieutenant managed a genuine smile. "Thanks. It really wasn't as bad as it seemed, at least for me anyway." He opened the inner office door and Newman watched as he walked, slowly and wearily, through the Vice bullpen and out into the corridor.
# # # # #
Mike stepped out of the elevator and turned left, walking with a reluctant deliberation towards his destination. He rounded a corner and approached the door he was looking for, stopping to wait for several seconds before he raised his right hand and knocked.
"Come in," a deep voice barked; Mike opened the door and took a step inside. "Mike, jeez, I wasn't expecting to see you!" Rudy Olsen exclaimed in surprise as the Homicide detective closed the door and approached the desk. They shook hands. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Mike said curtly, sitting in one of the guest chairs when the captain released his hand. "That's, ah, that's not why I'm here. Listen, Rudy, you got some time to talk?"
Olsen's brow furrowed; the usually effusive lieutenant seemed unnaturally troubled. "Sure, sure," he said easily as he sat, leaning forward over his desk. "What is it, Mike?"
His old friend swallowed heavily before smiling grimly. "It's about Steve…"
# # # # #
He opened the front door, wincing slightly as he stepped over the threshold with the large paper bag of groceries cradled in his left arm. Kicking the door shut with his foot, he tossed the keys on a nearby table and continued into the kitchen, setting the bag on the counter.
As he crossed back to the front closet to hang up the leather jacket, he glanced at the answering machine. The Calls Indicator light was flashing 2. He pressed the Playback button.
"Hi, Steve, it's Linda. I was free tonight and I was hoping you might be too. Maybe we could catch a movie or maybe just have a drink? Anyway call me if you're free… If not, I have the weekend off… See ya."
There was a loud series of clicks as the tape snapped to the next message.
"Inspector Keller, this is Alice from Captain Olsen's office. The captain would like to see you in his office tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. Have a good evening."
The tape rewound and shut itself off. Steve stood looking at the machine, his heart suddenly sinking into the pit of his stomach. His footsteps were heavy as he made his way slowly back into the kitchen, putting the groceries away by rote. Finished, he glanced at the clock on the stove: 3:40.
With a worried sigh, he took out a cold bottle of beer, opening it with the church key hanging by a string beside the fridge and trudged into the living room, flopping heavily onto the couch and putting his feet on the coffee table.
As he took his first long draft, he thought back over the past few days. He couldn't believe that everything he had worked for, everything he had achieved and, above all, his unique partnership with Mike, could be in jeopardy.
He looked at his watch again. It was going to be a long evening and an even longer night.
# # # # #
Steve stepped out of the elevator and made a left turn. Shaved, showered and wearing his best jacket and favourite tie, he walked slowly toward the corner and turned. There was a fair amount of foot traffic on the third floor at this hour, and he nodded at several colleagues as he made his way to the office about halfway down the corridor. Captain R. Olsen said the brass plaque on the door.
Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his cuffs, made sure his tie was straight, and knocked.