Under the circumstances, nobody had batted an eye on them calling it an early night once more, knowing well enough that the next complex case and round of overtime was just around the corner.
Even though every last fiber and sinew in his body longed for some rest, Steve couldn't get himself to go straight home. Mike's offer to grab a burger for dinner had sounded amazing, but the little voice in the back of his mind wouldn't quiet down.
Too many open ends were making him anxious, his unease strong enough that Mike had noticed it, asking if there was anything he needed help with.
If only it were that easy.
How was he ever going to make amends with Joe after their last encounter?
What trust had been reinstated after the last case had now all been wiped clear by a careless few words said after another frustrating night of chasing shadows. How could he make Joe understand that in order to do his job well, he had to take into account every single angle of the investigation- which included questioning the victim and ensuring all statements given were legitimate?
With no solid proof to be found and only one witness to the mysterious phone calls, Joe had to understand why he'd become skeptical.
On the other end of his attention span was Janaea and the heartbreaking end to her father's life. Nobody would have been able to see coming what transpired in that small apartment they called their home and Steve still felt the chills running down his back at the dramatic end to Yale's fight for life.
Ultimately, the personable poet may have taught all of them a valuable lesson when it came to suffering and the meaning of quality of life.
Still dressed in his expensive pinstripe suit, he'd grabbed the Porsche to head back to Janaea's apartment, see if there was anything he could do to help the young woman; if nothing else, make her feel a little less lonely in the world that had so readily forgotten about her father.
The place was in a downtrodden neighborhood just north of the Potrero. Enough distance to the lower-income areas of town to ask for steeper rent and yet the buildings looked just as dilapidated as they did a few blocks down the road.
Many of the smaller warehouses surrounding it were safe havens for the local homeless population, the noxious smell of burning garbage coming from metal barrels hanging heavily in the streets.
Down at the next corner, he saw a couple kids smoking cigarettes, way too young for the unhealthy habit to begin with.
When he got out of the car, they watched the silver Porsche with a mixture of admiration and an ounce of criminal spirit. Steve hoped that locking all his doors would keep the local crime scene at bay for a few precious few moments while he would check on Janaea.
Climbing up the old wooden stairs for the second time this week felt strange, downright haunting.
It brought him back to that fateful day, the puzzling call from dispatch and their confusion mixed with worry on what might be going on, neither emotion welcome after the week they'd just had.
Steve had barely reached the hallway toward the apartment, when an elderly man in grey overalls peeked his head out of another door.
"Hey. You're one of the…the cops that came to help Yale."
"Yes, I am, Sir.", Steve replied evenly, figuring the stranger to be the maintenance man around.
"It's too bad what happened to him. He was a hell of a guy. We're all going to miss him."
"Yeah. Me…me too.", Steve added stiffly, trying not to let his thoughts drift to the tragic scene once again.
Instead, he nodded at the other man cordially and headed toward Janaea's apartment, when he heard him clear his throat.
"She ain't home. Went to work an hour ago."
Even though he'd been meaning to stifle his disappointment, having looked forward to being with her again, the other man must have noticed and smiled warmly.
"She works a lot of hours, son."
"Well, do you know when she'll be back?"
"Not really. She'd like the wind. Sometimes she's there, sometimes she isn't. She doesn't have a set schedule. I just knew she went to work at the restaurant because she had that nice skirt on that she always wears there. You know…to get better tips."
Making a mental note to ask Janaea exactly what type of establishment she was working at, Steve nodded understandingly, then spun around to head back to the Porsche.
If his first attempt at redemption had failed, there was still one more issue he had to pursue.