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Blue Wall

Episode 9 written by Janet
Original air date: December 06, 2001

Disclaimer: The characters in the following fan fiction do not belong to me. They belong to CBS and Viacom and other powers that be. I am only using them for the purpose ofwriting this story. No money is being made from this writing it is for entertainment purposes only. And now on with the show...

Mark sat, looking out over the ocean, sipping his early morning cup of coffee. Lost in his musings, Marks' coffee grew cold. He was only brought back to the present by the sound of footsteps slowly ascending the outside stairs. The footsteps sounded heavy, as if the owner of those feet was laden down with a heavy burden. Looking round, Mark was in time to see Steve's head appear above the railing. "Morning son, how are you today?"

Steve did not immediately answer. He wandered through to the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee and came back out to sit down. Like Mark earlier, he sat gazing out over the ocean. Mark left him to his thoughts knowing that, when he was ready, Steve would talk to him. After a while Steve sighed, sat back in his seat and looked across at his dad. Mark raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"What's up son?"

"Problem at work," Steve's answer was short and to the point.

"Care to talk about it?" prompted his dad.

Steve turned and looked back over the ocean and Mark could see the indecision in his son's face. Again Steve sighed and Mark knew that he had come to a decision.

"I have to make a decision about something at work dad. For a while now there have been a number of incidents of evidence getting lost. None of the cases were major, but the piece of evidence was always vital to the case and when they were lost the case collapsed. A few days ago a piece of evidence from one of my cases turned up missing".

"Has there been an investigation?"

"It was looked into briefly, but there was no obvious link so the investigation was dropped as just one of those things."

Mark sat forward in his seat. Like Steve, he didn't believe in the 'just one of those things' theory. "So what makes you think that it wasn't son?"

"I don't lose evidence dad. I know I logged it in correctly. I was curious, so I took a look at the evidence log for all the cases involved. In each case, around the time the evidence went missing, one particular officer was in or near the evidence locker," Steve paused, as if unwilling to put his fears into words, " It was Mike Moloney."

"Mike Moloney?" Mark was incredulous, "Your old partner? Surely you can't suspect Mike?"

Steve shrugged his shoulders, "I don't want to dad, but...," his voice tailed off.

"But what Steve?" Mark prompted.

"You know how Mike is with money?"

Mark nodded.

"Well, lately he's had money to spare. Not flashing it about exactly, but not complaining about how short he is."

"That doesn't mean a thing son. Sometimes people find the right way to manage their money. Anyway, surely someone picked up that Mike was always around at the right time?"

"It was noticed dad, but Mike always had a legit reason for being there."

"Have you talked to Mike yet?"

"No, I haven't. I need to think about this first."

"What conclusion have you come to son?" Mark prompted

Looking out over the ocean, Steve drew a deep breath, "I've got to talk to Mike."

Later that day Steve was at the precinct when he saw Mike Moloney enter the office. Taking a deep breath, Steve stood up and walked across to him. "Mike," he said, putting his hand on Mike's arm and guiding him towards one of the interview rooms, "We need to talk."

Entering the room and shutting the door behind them, Steve perched himself on the edge of the well-worn table that sat in the middle of the room. He looked at Mike for a few seconds and was just about to speak when Mike forestalled him, "What's this all about Steve?" There was an edge to his voice and Steve knew that this interview would be no easier than he had anticipated.

"This," Steve accentuated the word, "is all about evidence going missing from the lock-up."

"What's that got to do with me?" Mike challenged.

"I don't know Mike. I was hoping that you would tell me. A piece of evidence from one of my cases went missing yesterday, the last in a long line of missing bits of evidence. So I did a bit of digging and do you know what I found?"

Mike shrugged nonchalantly, but Steve noticed that he could not bring himself to look him in the eyes.

"I found that every time a piece of evidence went missing, you were seen near the evidence lock-up."

"So?"

"And," Steve carried on as if there had been no interruption, "your money troubles seem to have disappeared into thin air. I know, you're not flashing wads of dough about, but neither are you complaining about how broke you are. That used to be a permanent state with you Mike. What is going on?"

"Nothing you have said would hold up in any court in the country Steve. So if you've got nothing else to say, I'm going," Mike retorted, turning to leave.

As he reached out for the door handle, he felt Steve's hand on his shoulder. "Mike, if you are not prepared to tell me what is going on then I have no option but to talk to Captain Newman."

Mike turned to look Steve square in the face, "You have no, repeat no, proof to back up what you are saying Sloan, and I will deny everything. You wouldn't be very popular with the rest of the squad either. No-one likes a cop who squeals on his own kind."

By this time Steve was angry and the temper, that he worked so hard to control, was about to get the better of him. He slammed Mike up against the wall and yelled, "Own kind? Just what kind is that Mike? The kind of cop who cheats? The kind of cop who sells out his badge for a few measly dollars? That kind Mike! Well, forgive me for not wanting to be that kind of cop!"

Pushing Mike out of the way Steve stormed out of the interview room, straight into a small group of officers who, on hearing the row, had gathered outside the doorway. Pulling up short, Steve shot a filthy look back at Mike and pushed his way through.

Deciding that he needed time to cool down before speaking to his Captain, Steve decided to see how Jesse was getting on at Bobs. Pulling up outside he sat with his hands gripping the steering wheel, trying to restore some calm to his disordered thoughts. Sighing, he got out of his car and entered his restaurant.

Hearing the door open, Jesse looked up from doing the books and smiled, "Hi, Steve. Come to check that I'm not cooking the books as well as the ribs?"

When he received neither a cuff round the head or a smart reply, Jesse's smile faded and he said, "What's up?"

"Problems at work Jess. I have to do something that I would very much prefer not to do and I know it is going to cause lots of problems," he paused, "mainly for me."

Jesse sat in silence, observing his friend's obvious indecision. He was far more sensitive to peoples' feelings and atmosphere than he was given credit for and he knew that this was not the time to be smart.

"Steve," he began, "You have never been one to shrink from doing something, especially when you know, in your heart, that it is the right thing to do - however hard it may be and whatever the consequences to yourself. You know that me, Amanda and your dad will always be there for you, no matter what."

Steve grinned, his first of the day, "Thanks Jess. It's good to know that, come the end of the day, I will have some friends left," he got up and walked to the door. Looking round he carried on, "Keep this place going Jess. It may be all I have left. I'd guess I'd better get this over with."

Walking back into the precinct Steve was aware of a subtle shift in atmosphere when he was noticed. The conversation died away and the only sound that could be heard was his footsteps as he made his way to Captain Newman's office and knocked on the door. Looking around the room he had just crossed, Steve's eyes met those of Mike Moloney. The eyes of the other man were filled with anger and hatred. Receiving an answer to his knock Steve entered his Captain's office.

"What can I do for you Steve?" asked the Captain.

Steve drew a deep breath and said, "I need to talk to you about the missing evidence sir."

Captain Newman looked at Steve for a few seconds. Getting up, he shut the door and said, "Sit down Steve. Tell me what's bothering you."

Steve explained about his missing evidence and his suspicions about Mike Moloney. Captain Newman sat in silence for a while, then he spoke, "I know how hard that was for you Steve and I know how hard a time you're going to have for the next few days when word gets out."

Looking over his shoulder, through the glass in the door behind him Steve said, "I think it's out already sir. There's nothing worse than walking across a room to the sound of your own footsteps and I just did it."

Looking out at the squad room, where everyone was trying very hard not to look like they were interested in the conversation going on in the windowed office. Captain Newman said, "I think you'd better take off for the rest of the day whilst I deal with this. I'll ring you at home later."

Steve left the squad room to the same silence that he had entered. Driving home he reflected on what had just happened. He knew that what he had done went against the unwritten code of his and every other squad room in the country -- you don't snitch on a fellow cop, especially from your own precinct.
However, Steve's strong sense of honour and duty made it impossible for him to go along with that. He had taken an oath to uphold the law when he had received his badge and his duty to uphold that oath did not vanish when he walked through the precinct doors. He didn't like what he had just done, but he knew that he would do it again given the same circumstances.

Steve entered his unit and after showering, changed into a pair of swim trunks. He rummaged in his wardrobe for his wet suit and pulled it over his feet and legs, letting the top half flap around his waist, leaving his muscular torso open to the elements. Going back outside, Steve unlocked the garage and went inside to find his favourite surfboard, It was the board his dad had bought him when he had graduated out from the police academy. Mark had even had a police shield emblazoned on it for Steve. Taking it out and locking the garage up again Steve made his way onto the beach. As always, the sight and sound of the beach and the ocean had the desired effect on Steve's troubled mind. He began to relax. Pulling his wetsuit up over his shoulders and zipping himself in, Steve walked into the ocean. When the water reached his waist, Steve lay down on his board and with long, powerful strokes made his way out to deeper water, where the waves were running.

Hours later an exhausted Steve walked slowly back up the beach towards the house. On getting closer he heard his phone ringing inside. He placed his board down and went in to answer it.

"Sloan here."

"It's Captain Newman, Sloan. Just wanted to let you know that I have spoken to Detective Moloney and he denies everything."

"But sir..."Steve began.

"However," continued Captain Newman, "I think there is enough substance in what you told me to suspend him and get IA involved in a thorough investigation."

"Thank you for ringing me sir," Steve replied, "I guess I'm not the most popular person down there at the moment."

"Possibly not. For what it's worth Steve, I admire you for what you have done and you have my full support, whatever the outcome of the investigation."

Over the next few days Steve got a taste of what being an outsider felt like. People spoke to him just, and then only when they absolutely had to. Messages were forgotten - dispatch gave him some of the crummiest assignments they could find. For the first time in his life Steve hated being a cop. If it hadn't been for his dad, Jesse and Amanda at home and the support of Captain Newman at work, he might seriously have considered quitting. However, one morning everything came to a head. He had been assigned to check out a possible homicide in one of the seediest areas that his precinct covered. Cheryl, his partner, was on extended sick leave and had gone to visit her parents - so he went on his own.

When he arrived at the scene, Steve found the suspect holed up in a room in the dingiest, dirtiest motel that he had ever seen. Speaking to the manager, Steve discovered that there had been a violent argument between the guy in the room and another man. The argument had escalated to the point where a gun had been pulled and the suspect was seen to shoot the second man point blank. Steve knew that this was not a situation he could deal with on his own, so he got on the radio.

"Lt. Sloan here. I'm at the Belle Vue Motel, Buena Vista Blvd. One gunman holed up in motel room. I need some back up."

It was at this point that Steve realised just how bad things had become.

The disembodied voice of the dispatcher came back through the radio, "Lt. Sloan. No one is available for at least an hour. Contain the situation until then."

Steve's voice exploded down the radio, "This is a situation that needs dealing with NOW - not containing!"

"Sorry Lt. No one is available. Contain the situation. Out." The line went dead.

For a few seconds Steve looked at the radio he held in his hand in utter disbelief. Then he threw the radio back into the car and went to the trunk of his car to retrieve his Kevlar vest. Putting it on he muttered to himself, "Someone, somewhere is going to be VERY sorry they decided to get out of bed today."

Slowly he made his way to the motel room door, hugging the wall all the way. Reaching across with his free hand he rapped loudly on the door, "Police, come out with your hands up!"

His only answer was a volley of shots fired through the door. For a few minutes Steve stood quietly trying to decide his best course of action. As he was alone, these were somewhat limited. As he was pondering he heard the loud crash of a window breaking. Taking a chance, Steve stepped in front of the door and kicked it open. As the door shot open, Steve dropped to his knees. Quickly casting his eyes around he saw that the door to the bathroom was open and the window in there was broken. Keeping low, Steve made his way cautiously across the room, past the unmade bed with the incongruous paring of a dead body and a half-eaten pizza on it. Looking out of the bathroom window, he could see no trace of the gunman. However, there were traces of blood on the shards of glass on the ground outside and some bloody fingerprints on the outside window ledge. Careful not to touch anything, Steve moved back outside to phone the Crime Scene Unit and the Coroners office. While he was waiting, Steve questioned the manager, getting more details on the two men and the argument that precipitated the tragedy.

The relative quiet of the dispatcher's office was shattered as the door leading into it was thrown open with such a force that it shook on its hinges. Everyone looked up to see Lt. Steve Sloan standing in the doorway. It was patently obvious to all that saw him that he was furious.

"Who," he thundered, "was the moron that told me I couldn't have back up for an hour?"

In the face of such immense anger most of those in the office lowered their heads and pretended not to be there. Only one person looked Steve straight in the eye.

"I did Sloan."

"That's Lt. Sloan to you, Officer Melnick," Steve countered, "I had an armed suspect in a situation that could easily have escalated. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that officers who need back up, should be prepared to back up one of their own."

For a few seconds Steve was silent and only those who knew him really well would have known just how close he was to completely losing it, then he said in a very controlled voice, "Get up, you're coming with me."

"I am?" said Melnick insolently

"Yes, Officer Melnick, you are. To see Captain Newman. NOW!"

Melnick reluctantly stood up and followed Steve out of the room and into the homicide squad room where a number of very interested faces were watching the door. Steve marched across to the Captain's office and knocked on the door. On receiving an invitation to enter, Steve opened the door. He looked back at Melnick, jerked his head in the direction of the door and said, "In!"

Captain Newman who, along with everyone else in the room, had been disturbed by the reverberations of the slamming door looked up as Steve appeared in his doorway. "What's going on Sloan?" he asked.

Succinctly Steve explained what had happened and as he was doing so Captain Newman's face darkened with anger. He slowly stood up, keeping his eyes firmly on Melnick and said in a voice full of anger and loathing, "Is this true Melnick?"

Melnick looked his Captain straight in the eye and replied, "Yes. He doesn't deserve the support of the precinct after what he did."

"That's your opinion, Melnick," replied the Captain, "Now you can hear mine. Lt. Sloan acted properly. You, however, did not. You have contravened I don't know how many regulations and you have put a fellow officer's life at risk. You are suspended, pending a full investigation. Get out!"

Shooting Steve a look full of hatred, Melnick turned on his heels and walked out, only stopping to exchange a brief word with Mike Moloney. Looking at Steve, Captain Newman said, "I hope that we won't have any more of that sort of behaviour."

"So do I sir," replied Steve, with feeling, "I have a few days off coming up. Hopefully, not seeing me for a while will enable everyone to calm down and think a bit rationally."

"Ok. Listen, hand over the paperwork for that incident today to Jacobs, he can deal with it and then take off."

"Yes sir. I'll be back on Monday," said Steve. Turning towards the door he took a step and then turned back, "Thank you for your support sir; it's been a great help."

Later that evening, sitting on the deck with Mark, Jesse and Amanda, Steve announced, "I'm going to take off for a couple of days. I thought I'd take my bike and just ride up the coast. I need to clear my head a little."

"I think that's a good idea son," Mark commented, "Just let me know when you get where you're going."

"OK dad, will do," agreed Steve.

In a bar, a few miles away, a lone man sat in a dark corner. He sat hunched over a pitcher of beer. He held his glass with both hands and stared into the middle distance. Every now and then the door to the bar opened and the man looked up, as if expecting someone. Each time, a look of frustration crossed his face and he went back to cradling his beer.

Outside, the neon light that announced the entrance to the bar flickered on and. A man, dressed in scruffy jeans, t-shirt and a black leather jacket, made his way along the sidewalk. He stopped outside the entrance to the bar and looked up for a while at the flickering sign, as if trying to decipher its message. Shaking his head in irritation, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Peering through the smoked filled interior, Adam Melnick walked purposefully towards the booth at the back of the room. Sliding into the vacant seat in the booth, he picked up an empty glass, filled it from the pitcher on the table in front of him. It was only after he had emptied the glass, that he acknowledged the presence of the man sitting opposite him.

"Here's to the inaugural meeting of the Steve Sloan Suspension Squad."

"Not funny, Adam," muttered Mike Moloney, "Thanks to that Boy Scout, our careers are about to go down the toilet. I could even end up doing time."

A look of disgust crossed Adam Melnick's face at the pathetic tone in Mike's voice. On getting no reply, Mike looked up and Adam schooled his face into the bland expression that was typical of him and one that had fooled many people.

"Why did you want to meet tonight?" asked Mike.

"To figure out what we are gonna do, after all we are in the same boat now."

"We're not in the same boat!" for the first time that evening Mike showed some emotion, "Same lake perhaps, but different boats. You don't stand in danger of going to prison. I do. First thing in the morning, I'm going to get a lawyer. No one is talking to me without one."

"Let's hope that you scammed enough money to afford a decent one, you're going to need it. By the way, why did you do it?"

"I needed the money. One perp offered me some money to lose a piece of evidence and I did. I suppose word got around and it went on from there," Mike went back to gazing into his beer and said, almost to himself , "I shouldn't have got involved in a case of Sloan's, then he wouldn't have poked his nose it. If I had any guts I'd have pushed it back out again, then I wouldn't be in this mess."

"Why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?" responded Mike.

"Push it back out."

"And face more charges! I don't think so," Mike slammed his beer glass on the table, "I've had enough. I'm going home to look on the internet, to see if I can find a good lawyer." With that, he stood up and slowly walked out of the door.

Adam Melnick followed his progress across the bar, filled his glass back up and said quietly, "Here's to pushing back."

The next morning Steve was up bright and early. He had packed a small bag that could easily be stowed on his bike. Pulling on his leathers and helmet, he sat astride his bike, started the engine and slipped quietly out of the driveway. Mark lay in his bed listening to the sound of the bike disappearing into the distance. He looked across at his clock and sighed. He knew that he'd not go back to sleep now, so he decided to get up and have an early morning walk along the beach. As he got out of bed Mark heard a car drive past.

"It's obviously a morning for early risers," he chuckled to himself.

Steve was a responsible rider, knowing how important it was to keep total track of what was going on around him. However, this particular morning, he found that he was not giving all his attention to the road. A part of his brain was still mulling over what was happening at work. It was, therefore, not surprising that it took him a while to realise that whilst he had been overtaken a number of times, there was one car that resolutely sat behind him.

Now that he had noticed it, Steve kept a closer eye on the car. He found it very odd, and slightly disturbing. He realised that the car kept just far enough away so he could not make out the number on the plate. However, Steve was able to figure out the make of the car, it was a blue Chevy, four-door, but it had an odd shape on the front of it. Subconsciously, Steve increased his speed slightly - whether in an attempt to leave the mysterious car behind or to see what it would do, he wasn't sure. The road was full of many twists and turns and, for a while, all Steve's attention was focused on making sure he stayed on the road. He wasn't aware that the Chevy had accelerated and was right behind him, until he felt the nudge on his back wheel.

Steve's head jerked round to look behind him, but all he could make out was that the driver was wearing sunglasses and had a baseball cap pulled down as far as it would go. There was another nudge, slightly harder this time. Steve accelerated again and the nudges stopped. There were no other vehicles in the vicinity and Steve risked another look over his shoulder. The driver of the Chevy had accelerated too and had pulled level with Steve. It veered suddenly to the right and it was only Steve's quick reflexes in braking that saved him from being pushed over the edge and down the steep embankment. The driver of the car had jammed on his brakes too and Steve swerved swiftly to the left, accelerated and shot past the car, throwing up a shower of stones in his wake. Making no attempt at keeping to the speed limit, Steve's only thought was to put as much space between him and the car as possible. Making sure that he kept his bike to the inside of the lane, Steve focused his concentration on the road ahead of him. He was coming to a section of road that slowly wound downwards until it was level with the beach. Steve's aim was to get to that level stretch of road and pull into the car park that he could see had many cars that were disgorging surfers, swimmers and sunbathers onto the beach. He reasoned that the driver of the car would not attempt anything with so many witnesses.

Reaching the level ground, Steve slowed down to make the sharp turn into the beachfront car park. That was his undoing. The blue Chevy roared up behind him and caught the back wheel of Steve's bike with a sharp blow. Steve felt his back wheel slip from under him and leant the other way in an attempt to compensate. Unfortunately, the bike was already at too sharp angle and it toppled over. The bike slid along the ground, trapping Steve's right leg underneath. His head hit the ground with a resounding thud and Steve lost consciousness and was unaware of the events that followed. The Chevy stopped and its reversing lights came on. It started moving backwards, slowly gathering speed as it moved towards the prostrate Steve. It was only when the driver saw a group of young people moving towards Steve that it stopped. Its reversing lights blinked out and drove quickly out of the car park and off into the distance. One of the group, a young man by the name of Marshall ran after it, staring intently at its number plate, as if trying to burn the number into his memory. When he returned to the group, they were all huddled around the unconscious figure and one of the girls was about to remove Steve's helmet.

"No, don't do that," Marshall cried out, "we mustn't move him, we don't know what injuries he may have. Has anyone called 911?"

Receiving a negative response to his, Marshall ordered another of his friends to, "Damn well go and do it then!"

Taking out his towel from his rucksack, Marshall laid it over Steve and grabbed a few more from his friends.

"What are you doing Marsh?" asked Jenna.

"He is liable to be in shock and we need to keep him warm until the paramedics arrive."

Steve remained out of it until the ambulance arrived. The paramedics jumped out of the ambulance and ran over to him. Marshall quickly brought them up to speed and they knelt down to look at their patient. Marshall was surprised to hear a resigned exclamation come from one of them.

"Not again! Alert Dr. Sloan at Community General. It's his son again.

Marshall knelt down. "You know this guy?"

"Sure do. He's a police lieutenant and he is always in and out of our ER with various injuries. Don't worry he has a very hard head and an iron constitution - a little spill from a bike won't finish him off."

Back at the beach house, Mark was getting ready for work. He was in the middle of tying the knot in his tie when the phone rang. Muttering in irritation, he made his way into the living room and picked up the receiver. "Dr. Sloan."

"Mark, its Jesse," came the familiar voice in his ear, "We've just had a call - Steve has taken a tumble off his bike and is on his way in."

"How bad is it Jess," Mark was naturally concerned.

"We're not sure just yet. All we know is he came round briefly in the ambulance and is coherent."

"Okay, thanks Jess," said Mark, dropping his half-tied tie on the sofa on the way out of the door. By the time Mark arrived at the hospital, Steve had arrived at CG and was in the ER being looked after by Jesse. "Do you have any idea what happened Amanda?" Mark asked

"I can tell you that, sir," came a voice from behind them.

Mark turned round to see a young man in beach gear standing in front of him. He walked over to Mark and said, "I saw what happened to your son today. He was deliberately knocked off his bike by a blue, four-door Chevy."

"Are you sure it was deliberate?" Mark asked

"Oh I'm sure alright. It was about to reverse back over your son, but changed its mind when we all arrived. The driver drove off real sharp, but I managed to get the plate."

"Well done young man," congratulated Mark, patting Marshall on the shoulder, "What is your name?"

"Marshall Thomason sir," he replied.

One of the paramedics who had brought Steve was walking past and said, "This is a good kid, Dr. Sloan. He knew not to move Steve and he kept him warm by covering him up with towels until we arrived."

Mark was impressed, "You obviously know First Aid."

"Yes sir, I do. I'm hoping to go to med school next semester if I can get a scholarship."

At this point the door behind Mark opened and Jesse came through it. Mark dashed over to him, "How is he Jess?"

"Steve is okay. He has a broken leg and a concussion. I tell you Mark, if ever there is an advert for wearing a helmet, then Steve is it. There's no doubt that his injury could have been a lot worse if he wasn't."

"Can I see him?" Mark wanted to know.

"Of course, go on in."

He then went into the trauma room and the door swung shut behind him.

Marshall looked round at Amanda and said, "Who is he?"

It was Jesse that answered, "That is Dr. Mark Sloan, Head of Internal Medicine here. The man you helped was his son, Steve."

"Why would anyone want to harm him?"

"How long have you got?" Jesse joked, but encountering a look from Amanda he carried on, "No seriously, Steve is a cop and VERY good at what he does, so he's bound to have made some enemies. But he's also have some problems with some colleagues at the moment."

Marshall was silent for a while, allowing Jesse's words to sink in and then asked, "Who should I talk to about the cars' description and the number plate?"

"Come into the doctors lounge and tell us all about it. We'll make sure his captain gets the information," said Amanda.

With that, the two led Marshall off through the nearest door, where they got all the information they needed. Mark, meanwhile, was hovering over Steve. Although Steve had come to again, he was still groggy and not really up to conversation. Jesse had arranged for Steve to be admitted and Mark was accompanying his son to the lift. He was about to step in, when his attention was caught by Amanda and Jesse calling his name. "What's up guys?" he asked.

"We've just spoken to Marshall and he's given us all the information we need to go to Captain Newman."

"Can you do it please?" requested Mark, "I want to be here when Steve comes around properly."

It was an hour later and Jesse walked into the precinct where Steve worked. He was aware of a number of pairs of eyes watching him as he walked across the office. It made him realise just what Steve had been going through recently. He knocked on the door to Captain Newman's office, opened it and went in. Captain Newman was not alone; he had Tanis Archer with him. They were deep in conversation, but looked up as the door opened.

"Travis," Tanis said, "what a surprise to see you here. You do know that Steve is off for a few days?"

"That's what I'm here about," Jesse returned, "He's going to be off for a bit longer than a few days."

He paused, in order to see the effect that his pronouncement had made. Satisfied that he had their full attention, Jesse carried on.

"Steve is an inmate of CG again. He'd taken off for a couple of days on his bike to clear his head. Someone followed him along the coast road and knocked him off of his bike."

"Were there any witnesses?"

"Actually, yes there was. One very good one. He got a good look at the car, its make, and the license plate. Here they are," Jesse finished, handing over a piece of paper on which Marshall had written everything down.

Captain Newman quickly looked at the sheet of paper and then handed it onto Tanis Archer saying, "Run a check on this and bring the result to me and no one else."

Tanis was slightly puzzled by this request.

"Explanations come later Archer," Captain Newman said. Pausing for a second and transferring his gaze to Jesse, he carried on "Okay, Travis fill in the blanks."

Jesse, who was a frustrated detective at heart, beamed and sat down, leaned forward in his chair and proceeded to tell Captain Newman everything that Marshall had told them. When he had finished, Captain Newman said, "I'm going to need to see this young man to get an official statement from him."

"Well, his address is on that bit of paper and I know he wants to help all that he can."

By this time, Tanis had arrived back in the office. She sat down with a very unhappy look on her face.

"What's the matter?" demanded Captain Newman

Looking at Jesse, Tanis asked, "Are you sure that this young man has the correct plate number?"

"Well, obviously I wasn't there," conceded Jesse, "but Marshall seemed to be very sure of his facts. Why?"

"Well," Tanis seemed reluctant to speak, "the plate that the young man gave you is registered to an officer in this precinct."

"Who?" demanded Captain Newman.

"Officer Melnick," Tanis Archer replied.

Captain Newman leapt to his feet and strode to the door. Wrenching it open, he called out, "Jordan! Brewster!"

Two officers looked up from their work. "Get Officer Melnick in here NOW!"

Jordan answered, "But Captain, he's on suspension."

"I don't care if he's on Mars! Find him and get him here now. In handcuffs if necessary."

Tanis was looking totally bewildered at this reaction. Seeing her bewilderment, Captain Newman sat back down in his chair and brought her up to speed.

Steve lay in his hospital bed, looking out at the moon and listening to his father sleep. He turned on the pillow to look at his dad and groaned as a sharp pain shot up the back of his head. Mark was immediately awake, "Are you okay son?"

"My head hurts like hell, especially when I move and my leg is quite painful," Steve replied.

Standing up and moving across to the bed, Mark picked up Steve's chart. Looking at it he said, "I can write you up for some pain medication if you like," pausing he carried on, "Do you feel up to talking about what happened?"

A frown creased Steve's face, "I'd love to dad, but I can't remember anything after leaving home. I must have had an accident,' he stopped and thought for a second,' How's my bike?"

Mark grinned, if Steve was worrying about his bike he obviously wasn't too bad. Sitting down Mark told Steve what little he knew of the incident. As he was talking, a look of enlightenment came across Steve's face, "Hey, I remember that car you mentioned. It was right up close behind," then he stopped and after a few seconds carried on, "but that's all I can remember."

"That's enough for now son," Mark replied, "It shows that your memory of the event isn't permanently erased, just in a locked compartment for now." He stood up, "I'm going to get you that medication now and I want you to sleep."

Steve yawned, "I will, if you promise to go home and get some yourself."

Mark smiled and said, "I will."

Detectives Jordan and Brewster were unhappy. They did not relish the thought of detaining a fellow police officer. They had no idea that Steve Sloan was lying in a hospital bed or that Adam Melnick was implicated in putting him there. They nosed their car gently out into the flow of traffic and tucked themselves in the middle of a slow moving lane, in no hurry to arrive at their destination. If they had known what was going on, they may have been imbued with a little more urgency. It was a difficult call to make because, no matter how popular Steve was with his fellow officers normally, people were still angry with him for reporting Mike Moloney.

Turning off the main highway, Jordan drove the steel grey Pontiac at a measured pace through the increasingly leafy suburbs. Pulling up outside one of the single storey buildings, Jordan switched off the engine and looked across at his partner. Brewster leant forward in his seat to reach for the radio, to inform dispatch that they had arrived at their destination. Jordan opened his car door and stepped out on to the pavement. Seconds later two shots rang out into the silence of the evening and Jordan slumped against the side of the car as the bullets buried themselves into his flesh. The first embedded itself into his left shoulder, whilst the other entered his left leg, ricocheted off his tibia and ripped his calf muscle apart in its journey to lay spent on the pavement. For a second Brewster's hand hung in mid-air, the shock of the attack depriving him of all ability to think and move. His eyes travelled to the side window of the car in time to see his partner sink to the floor, leaving behind a smeared trail of blood from his shoulder wound. As two more shots rang out, this time aimed at the interior of the car, Brewster threw himself sideways so that he was sprawled across both front seats, grabbing the radio on the way past.

"This William one-niner. Shots fired - police officer down. We need back up and an ambulance now. Possible siege situation. We're at 2020 Mason Blvd."

Slowly Brewster moved his arm behind him and opened his car door. Sliding out backwards onto the road and keeping low, he opened the rear door and retrieved his Kevlar vest, all the while feeling grateful that he hadn't thrown it in the trunk, as he usually did, that morning.

Within a short space of time the silence of the night was again shattered. This time it was the ululating police sirens that sent ripples of sound out all around them in some sort of secret code that brought people to their doors and windows. Police cars formed themselves into a protective semi circle around Adam Melnick's house and men, in uniform and plain clothes alike, knelt behind their cars with guns trained on the windows and doors in front of them.

A tall, slim, slightly balding man stepped out of an impressive looking car set back from the rest. He made his way through the gathering crowd.

"Get these people out of here," he barked at the nearest uniform he saw. The officer looked up and immediately began to implement the order.

Looking around him, Chief Masters saw Captain Newman walking towards him. He jerked his head towards the house and said, "Fill me in Newman."

"An officer from my precinct has barricaded himself in and is threatening to shoot anyone who comes near him," he paused for a second as both men heard the sound of an ambulance drawing nearer. Then carrying on, "He insists on seeing Mike Moloney."

"Get him here then," barked the Chief.

"On his way as we speak sir."

"Okay. Carry on Newman, what's going on?"

"Steve Sloan was run off the road this morning sir and the witness identified Melnick's car as the one that was responsible."

"Why the hell would Melnick do that?"

"It relates to Mike Maloney's suspension sir. Sloan's not popular at the moment and Melnick refused him the back up he requested and needed. Sloan informed me and I suspended Melnick."

Just then another car drew up and Mike Moloney stepped out. He looked around and saw Captain Newman waving him through. "Why have I been dragged here? I am supposed to be on suspension," Mike was angry and very aggressive.

Captain Newman quickly filled him in on the situation. In an instant Mike's face lost all its anger.

"He didn't say he was going to do anything like that."

"What do you mean? When did you talk to him?"

"A couple of nights ago. He wanted to see me, so we met and talked. I thought he was letting off steam about Steve, just like I was."

"Well, it was a bit more than steam blowing. He insists on talking to you. Are you willing to do it?"

"Yes sir I am. I know I was angry with Steve, but I would never have done anything to harm him. When this is all over I'll go and tell him that myself."

With that he turned and began to walk towards the house calling out, "Adam, it's me Mike. Let me in."

As he reached the front porch, the door opened just wide enough for him to enter. He disappeared through the gap and the door closed with a click that echoed through the almost silent street.

Inside, Mike stood looking at Adam and the gun he held in his hand, that wasn't as steady as either man would have liked.

"What's going on Adam?" Mike asked.

"I killed Sloan and shot Jordan. That's what's going on," Adam replied, in a voice shaking with the stress he was feeling.

"Sloan's not dead. He injured and in hospital, but he's alive. Come on Adam, come back out with me."

"I've got nowhere to go Mike. They are gonna throw the book at me. I'm looking at some serious jail time, even more than you."

Mike began to walk towards Adam with his hand held out, "Come on Adam, you are going to make a bad situation much worse. Give me the gun and we'll walk out of the door together."

Adam began to back away. "Don't do this Mike. I'm not going out there."

Back outside, Captain Newman and Chief Masters were standing side by side their eyes fixed on the house in front of them. All around them they could hear the subdued murmurings of the assembled crowd and police officers. Suddenly that murmuring was abruptly halted by the sound of a single gunshot. The silence that followed was intense. Into that silence intruded another gunshot. For a long while everyone stood as if frozen in time. The first person to react was Captain Newman, "Melnick! Moloney! What's going on? Talk to me!"

When no reply was forthcoming, he motioned to a couple of the assembled officers to close up on the house. In a low run, both men made their way to the front porch and peered in through the nearest window. "They're both down sir!" one called out.

"Get in there and check it out," yelled Captain Newman.

The next morning Captain Newman entered the main doors of Community General and made his way up to the 4th floor, coming to a stop in the doorway of the room currently occupied by Steve Sloan.
"You really ought to have a room set aside specifically for you Sloan. Either that or have a floor named after you."

Steve grinned and said, "It's nice to see you too sir. Have you picked up Melnick yet?"

Captain Newman looked across at Mark, who was sitting in the chair on the far side of Steve's bed. "You didn't say anything?"

"No," replied Mark, "It wasn't the right time last night."

Steve looked between the two men with a confused look on his face, "What haven't I been told."

Captain Newman pulled up a spare chair and sat down next to the bed and began, "Adam Melnick and Mike Moloney are both dead Steve. We sent a couple of detectives to pull Melnick in and he shot one of them. He wouldn't talk to anyone but Moloney. He went in and next thing we knew there were two shots. By the looks of it, Melnick shot Mike and then himself, but we'll never know for sure."

Steve closed his eyes and scratched his forehead with his middle finger, a typical gesture of his when he was unhappy. Mark gestured to Captain Newman to leave the room and he followed him out.

"I'm sorry it ended this way Dr. Sloan, there was nothing we could do. Tell Steve to take as long as he needs."

"Thanks," replied Mark, "I know no one intended for this tragedy to happen. Sometimes a man places his feet on a path that he cannot get off of. Sounds like that's what happened to those two men."

With that Mark turned and entered his son's room again. "Are you okay son?"

"I just wish I could be sure that I wasn't responsible for all this mess dad."

"Listen to me Steve. Both Mike Moloney and Adam Melnick chose their path and unfortunately that path led to their deaths. You didn't make Mike go off the rails anymore than you made Adam decide to run you off the road. If it hadn't been you it would have been someone else."

"I know that dad," Steve replied sadly, "but it doesn't make me feel any better."

"Maybe not at this moment, but you will. What we need to do now is to concentrate on getting you well again. I'll see you tomorrow." Halfway to the door Mark stopped and turned. Looking at Steve he said, "By the way, next time you go out to play on your bike, make sure the kids aren't quite so rough!"

With that he left the room, pleased to hear the sound of Steve chuckling quietly to himself.

THE END