"I need red meat."

"I'll buy you a steer," Michael said as he walked back into the squad

room.

"You know, partner, this whole business has ruined your sense of humor,

And my appet.i.te. Blackpool's a big star. He does beer commercials, for

Christ's sake. You're not going to tie him to a twenty-year-old case."

"Maybe not, but I'm down to eight names." He sat at his desk and pulled

out a cigarette. "Somebody stole my d.a.m.n Pepsi."

"I'll call a cop." McCarthy leaned over. "Mike, no fooling around,

you're pushing this too hard."

"Looking out for me, Mac?"

"I'm your G.o.dd.a.m.n partner. Yeah, I'm looking out for you, and I'm

looking out for myself. If we have to go out on the streets while

you're strung out like this, you're not going to back me up."

Through a veil of smoke, Michael studied his partner. His voice, when

he spoke, was dangerously soft. "I know how to do my job."

It was a tender area. McCarthy was well aware of the razzing Michael

had taken his first years on the force. "I'm also your friend, and I'm

telling you, if you don't ease off for a few hours, you're not going to

do anybody any good. Including your lady."

Slowly, Michael unclenched his fists. "I'm getting close. I know it.

It's not like it was twenty years ago. It's like it was yesterday, and

I was there, right there going over every step."

"Like your old man."

"Yeah." He braced his elbows on the desk to scrub his hands over his

face. "I'm going crazy."

"You're just overcharged, kid. Take a couple hours. Ease off."

Michael stared down at the papers on his desk. "I'll buy you a steak.

You help me run the make on Blackpool."

"Deal." He waited while Michael shrugged into his jacket. "Why don't

you give me a couple other names? Marilyn's on a new kick and we're

getting nothing but fish this week anyway."

"Thanks."

EMmA STOPPED THE cAR and looked at the house through the rising mists.

She hadn't consciously decided to drive to it. Years before she had sat

in the car with Michael and studied the house. It had been sunny then,

she remembered.

There were lights in the windows. Though she could see no movement, she

wondered who lived there now. Did a child sleep in the

room where she had once slept, or where Darren's crib had stood?

She hoped so. She wanted to think that more than tragedy lived on.

There had been laughter in the house as well, a great deal of it. She

hoped there was again.

She supposed Johnno had made her think of it, when he had talked of

growing older. Most of the time she still saw them as they had been in

her own childhood, not as men who had lived for nearly a quarter of a

century with fame and ambition, with success and failure.

They had all changed. Perhaps herself most of all. She no longer felt

like a shadow of the men who had so dominated her life. If she was

stronger, it was because of the effort it had taken to finally see