by Mary T. Kalnin
 

"Good morning, Captain"

"Good morning, Steve," Herrera replied. "It's good to see you finally awake and talking. I've been by several times. How are you feeling?"

"I really don't feel that great; everything still hurts"

"I know, Steve, and I hate to bother you, but we do need to get some information from you about the abduction. What can you tell me?"

Steve replied curtly: "Nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing? You surely must have noticed something. You're not my best cop for nothing."

"I said nothing and I meant nothing," Steve retorted.

"Steve," Herrera said, "what's wrong? It is not like you to refuse to talk. It's not like you to have noticed nothing."

"Look, Captain. All I can tell you is that the truck was dark and the thugs were mean. I don't want to talk about it. I can't talk about it."

"But Steve, we have so few leads. We have what the owner of the station saw: dark blue or black truck, a logo that looked like a circle with a line under it and a California truck plate with the first number 5. We hope for a good sketch from Susan Hilliard, but that isn't going to do it. You have to remember something."

Steve was becoming more and more agitated, and shouted at his commanding officer:

"I can't help. I won't talk about it. Get out of here."

Herrera, Mark and Amanda were stunned. Was this really Steve? Yes, of course, but they had never heard such anger. Mark ushered Captain Herrera out of the room before Steve got even more agitated, more frightened.

"Jack," said Mark when they were outside, "you'll have to come back. We just got him awake and talking this morning. I won't sanction any questioning that will cause him more stress."

"That's great, Mark, but you aren't his doctor. We'll see what Dr. Travis says about my questioning."

At that moment Jesse approached them. He had some free time, so he decided to check on Steve. He said:

"Did I hear my name? What am I going to say about what?"

"Dr. Travis, it seems that your patient's father won't allow further questioning right now, although he knows that we have virtually nothing to go on. What do you say?"

Jesse looked at Mark who informed him of what had just occurred.

"Sorry, Captain, I'll have to agree with Mark. He's just coming back to reality. Let us talk to him at our pace. I promise you that you'll be the first to know if he can tell you anything. Let's see, we have the dark truck, the logo, the plate and possibly the sketch. We'll try to jog his memory."

With that, Captain Herrera left.

Jesse and Mark went back into Steve's room and Mark said:

"He's gone, son. Calm yourself and lie back for awhile."

"Dad, I really can't tell him anything. It all happened so fast. I was pumping gas and all of a sudden they were there, hitting me and throwing me into the truck."

Steve lay back, shut his eyes and fell asleep. Said Amanda:

"Guys, let's see what we can do with this. The truck was a dark blue or black Dodge, Ford or Chevy."

"Dodge, Ford or Chevy?" questioned Mark.

"Mark, you mentioned that Jim Price said he was fairly certain that the truck was one of the big three. Wouldn't it be one of those?"

"Yes, Amanda, it would," replied Jesse. "But that still doesn't help much without more of the license plate than we have. How many-"

"Now, about that logo," she continued. "Mark, do you remember what Jim Price told you about it?"

"Not really, Amanda. I vaguely remember something about a circle with a line under it or-- There's something else but I can't remember." He slammed his first down on the nightstand so hard that it brought Steve awake. He screamed:

"No! No, stop!"

Jesse was closest to the bed and grabbed Steve's shoulders. He held him for a bit and then slowly and gently brought him back to reality.

"Steve, Steve, calm down. Nobody did anything. It was just Mark. What's wrong?"

"Jess, it was like I heard a gunshot." Steve turned to face his dad and said: "Dad, don't do that."

"Sorry, son." The frustration was beginning to show on Mark's face as he kept trying to remember what else Jim Price had said; but whatever Price had said, Mark no longer remembered it, and finally had to admit that it was gone. Perhaps if he stopped thinking about it, he would remember. Mark arose and went to the window; as he was looking outside he started to hum a song that he'd heard in an old movie. Steve asked:

"Dad, what's that song? I remember that you used to sing it when I was a kid. It always gave me a feeling of security."

"I don't really remember, son. It just came back to me. Why would a song give you a sense of security?"

"I don't know, except that you were the only one who sang it. If I heard it, then I knew that you were in the house and nothing would happen. Don't ask me why I thought something would happen if you weren't home, because I haven't a clue. But your humming it now makes me feel safe. Boy, doesn't that make a lot of sense?"

Jesse replied: "Actually it does make some sense. Whatever happened during your abduction was so traumatic that you don't want to think about it. Parents are supposed to be our childhood protectors and you happened to get a set that was everything it was supposed to be. Now you've decided to go back and hide in your dad's protective custody. I would."

"Well, Dr. Freud, now that you've analyzed me, how about you decide when I can get out of here."

"Steve, not for a day or two. I want to know that your injuries are almost healed before I turn you loose."

"Jess, I just want to go home. I want to pretend that this didn't happen and get on with my life."

Said Amanda: "Steve, do you think that is really possible? You haven't talked about what they did to you, never got it out of your system. Do you really think that you can put it behind you? Are you sure it won't haunt you until you do talk about it?"

"What's this," said Steve with some anger, "the Community General shrink fest? Well, dad, let's have your fifty cents worth. What's your take on my mental health?"

"Steve," replied Mark, "I think that you should stay here for another day. Then, if we ask nicely, maybe Jesse will release you to me. I'm on leave and I'll be with you every day. The fact is, you do need some counseling. Your reaction to Captain Herrera's questions this morning is a pretty clear sign that you're suffering at least some post-traumatic stress. Whether that stress is a sign of deep trauma or just mild anxiety is anybody's guess right now. It doesn't bode well for a quick recovery, and you should take it seriously."

"But, Dad, I didn't see anything. I can't ID them. Why put myself through it again when it won't yield any useful information?"

"Because, son, if you don't, you're going to go to sleep some night and wake up screaming and hearing gunshots again. Just like ten minutes ago. Then, there's the fact that those psychos don't know that you can't help the police. They're likely to come back and try murder. And they might very well succeed."

Steve turned away from the gaze of his father and his friends and stared out the window, looking at the sky. "I'll think about it. Jesse, Amanda, would you leave dad and me alone for awhile. I just want to be with him and 'crawl back under his protection.' Please, come back later."

Amanda and Jesse nodded their assent, indicating that they understood how Steve felt. They would come back later when things were calmer. As they left the room, they heard Steve say to his father:

"Dad, sing it now, please." At the sound of Mark's gentle voice, Steve scrunched up like a kid and went to sleep.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Steve slept off and on until Jesse, Amanda and Susan returned that evening with dinner-a contraband meal from BBQ Bob's. As they spent time together they talked of many things and, for one brief moment, they laughed at one of Jesse's stories. Jesse finally decided that he would release Steve the following morning, if he would follow instructions. Steve agreed and Mark reminded Jesse that he would be perfectly able to manage Steve's home care. Finally, the trauma, fear and worry of the previous days took its toll, and Community General experienced its first collective yawn. Steve noticed that everyone was tired. He said:

"Guys, thanks for staying with me all this time. I know that I wasn't especially talkative but I did know that you were here. It meant everything. It still does. Why don't you all go home and get some real sleep. Dad, you, too. Tomorrow can't come fast enough for me, and you'll be back in the morning."

Mark replied: "Steve, Jesse, Amanda and Susan will go but I intend to stay the night."

Steve looked at his father and said in a quiet voice that Mark knew only too well: "Dad, please. It would make me feel better to know that you had a good night's sleep. Besides, if you recall, I don't have any clothes for tomorrow. You have to go."

"Steve, are you sure?"

"Yes, dad, guys. Please, go."

Jesse said: "OK, Steve, if you're sure. If you want me tonight, though, pick up the phone and call." He gave Steve a high five and left.

Susan said: "Steve, sleep well tonight. Tomorrow will be a big day for you." She kissed his cheek and left.

Amanda continued: "Steve, good night. I'll be back tomorrow morning." She kissed his forehead, gave Mark a peck on the cheek and departed, leaving father and son alone.

Mark sat on Steve's bed and they shared a silent moment. Neither said anything but conversation was not necessary. Their eyes said it all. Mark gave Steve a quick hug, something that he hadn't done in a very long time. Finally, Steve broke the silence:

"Dad, do you really believe that I need counseling?"

"Yes, son. There is no doubt that you do. What you have endured will, eventually, come back to haunt you. You feel pretty good now because you're being released tomorrow. You're on a high, but that high will become a massive letdown in a few days. You still need rest and care, and going back on duty is not yet an option. Take this trauma seriously, Steve."

"Dad, can I tell you something that has to remain between us? You can't even tell Jesse and Amanda."

"Of course, son."

"Dad, I'm not sure that I want to go back on duty. I'm not sure that I want to stay on the Force. This attack was different from any other. I felt as if I were in the presence of evil. Would it bother you if I left the Force? Would you think me a quitter?"

"Steve, I would never think you a quitter! Your well-being is all that is important to me. Can you tell me what happened that has affected you so deeply? I sense that this cuts to your very soul."

"It does. During the abduction, they-." Suddenly Steve stopped talking. He was silent for a moment and continued: "No, I can't, I won't talk about it. It won't help."

"Son, you have to get this out. Tell me."

"I can't, I won't. I will talk to the shrinks if you really think that I should, but only as an outpatient. I won't promise anything, however."

"Deal, son. Steve, whatever you decide to do about the future, I'll be pleased with it. You could never disappoint me. Just don't make a quick decision. Take time, go through counseling, and make that decision only after you have healed."

Steve smiled and replied: "In other words, get your head on straight before blowing off your life."

Mark smiled back and continued: "Something like that."

They shared another moment of silence before Steve said: "Now, scram. We both need sleep and I need clothes. I can't wait to get out of here and home."

"All right, Steve, sleep well. See you early tomorrow."

Mark left. On his way out, he asked Jan Andersen to keep a special watch on Steve. She entered Steve's room, wished him good night and dimmed the lights. Steve rolled over and tried to push the evil from his mind. He thought to himself: "Going home will do it. I can put it behind me there. Then I'll just leave the Force and everything will be OK." Steve shuddered, turned again, closed his eyes and finally drifted off.

Pt.8
July 9th dawned and Steve ate part of his last breakfast at Community General. Jesse came in with his release papers and a set of instructions: rest, no strenuous exercise, and no alcohol. He also gave Steve a bottle of pain pills with the directions to use them only if necessary. Mark had arrived earlier to finally take his son home. Charlie Clark also came in early; members of the local press had seen his column and called the hospital screaming for information, so Mark asked Charlie to read a statement. He'd come into the room to suggest that they watch the conference on television, and then left to read the statement. Amanda picked up the television remote and turned on Channel 6. They watched as Charlie read Mark's prepared statement, telling the assembled scribes that Steve would be released and would enter counseling when he was physically able to do so. One of the reporters, known for belligerence, picked this time to ask an impertinent question. Charlie reduced him to ashes in about ten seconds, called an end to the press conference and returned to Steve's room. There, Charlie said good-bye and promised that he would come by the house every day, if only for a few minutes. After a long, hot shower Steve said good-bye to the hospital staff. Then he and Mark left for the beach, where Jesse, Susan and Amanda would join them that evening for a celebratory dinner. As they drove off the Community General campus, several photographers managed pictures for their next editions, and a TV news photographer got a shot for the noon and evening newscasts.

During the drive home to Malibu, Steve was pensive. Mark did not disturb him but wondered what thoughts held him bound. He found out as they neared home.

"Dad, pull into the gas station, would you please?"

"Steve, are you sure that you want to do this? You know that you can wait a few days and then go over."

"I know, Dad, but I'd like to get it over with. Herrera is sure to ask if I went back to see if I could remember anything else. If I do it now, I can tell him that I tried but with no success, and have some peace for a few days."

Mark did as Steve requested. Jim Price saw Mark's car and came out to ask about Steve. He was somewhat surprised to see Steve in the car and started to back off. Steve called to him:

"Jim, come back. I came in to see if I could remember anything more, since I know my captain is going to ask. Would you mind if Dad pulled up close to the service area and I walked around for a bit?"

"Of course not, Steve," Jim replied. "Take your time."

Steve and Mark spent about fifteen minutes walking around the station especially the area near the pumps where Steve was kidnapped. He remembered nothing more so they thanked Jim, accepted his good wishes and left. Finally, seven days after his brutal abduction, Steve Sloan stepped into his home. How good it felt to be home again! How grateful he was to those who had seen him through his recovery thus far! The next week would be spent in recuperation and trepidation. Steve felt that the worst was to come. Psychiatric counseling was somehow more frightening than anything he'd already endured. He would not think of that, however. Not now. Now it was time to enjoy his homecoming, and he intended to do just that.

Steve went downstairs to his apartment and stepped in. Nothing had changed and he didn't know why he thought that it would have. Sometimes the mind is a funny thing, he thought. Just like the song back in the hospital. Why, he wondered, was he so introspective lately? Was it because he hadn't expected to survive the abduction? Was it because of what happened while in the hands of his captors? Ah well, he could ask the shrink next week. He dropped his sports bag on the bed, took off his jacket and went back upstairs.

Mark was out on the deck and had iced tea and snacks prepared. Steve joined him and spent several minutes just looking out at the ocean. It was good to see the surfers, sun worshipers and boats again. Community General was a wonderful hospital, but the wind in his hair and the smell of salt water were better medicine to him. Maybe he'd go surfing tomorrow. No, Jess said nothing doing and he knew better than to defy his doctor, and, more importantly, his friend. He probably should check on the restaurant. He hadn't, and felt more than a twinge of guilt when he realized that his pal and his father had to run it alone. Finally, Steve sat down, took some iced tea and spoke:

"Dad, is everything OK at BBQ Bob's? I just now realized that you and Jess have had to run it alone."

"Steve," replied his father, "everything is fine there. Actually the staff has pretty much been running it. They told Jesse and me to look after you; they would look after the ribs. They promised to call if there was a real need for either of us and they haven't, so I assume that everything has been OK. My accountant offered to handle the books until you're ready to take over. I did call while you were downstairs, and Jenny said that everything was running smoothly, but that one of you will have to go in tomorrow to make another batch of sauce."

"I'll go in, Jesse has too much to do. Go with me, dad?

"Of course, son."

"After I finish the sauce, maybe we can go for a drive?"

"Yes, we can, Steve, but I don't want to overdo it. You've been out of the hospital for about an hour and you must still be tired."

"Yeah, but tomorrow is another day. I figure to sleep really well tonight."

At his father's orders, Steve went downstairs, unpacked his bag and lay down on the bed. He intended to rest for a bit and then go back upstairs. He fell asleep and didn't wake up until about 4:00 p.m.

As Steve awoke, a truly wonderful aroma wafted down from above. He arose, splashed some water on his face, and went in search of the wonderful smell. He found his father in the kitchen concocting something enticing. As he entered he said:

"Hi, Dad, what are you making?"

"Hi, son," replied Mark. "I thought that you might like something special. I stopped last night on the way home and picked up some Alaska salmon that had just arrived."

"Yes, I'd love it. Thanks. Maybe some rice?"

"Steve, I've made everything you like, or at least used to like, except dessert. Amanda said she'd take care of that."

With that the door opened, and in marched the rest of the evening's celebrants. Amanda, Jesse and Susan brought with them balloons, flowers, three bottles of sparkling cider and a "Welcome Home" cake. As usual, Jesse's nose led him to the kitchen, where he checked out what was cooking and put the cider in the refrigerator to chill.

"Wow, Mark, that smells great! What is it?"

"Hi, Jess. It's salmon in crust, rice and asparagus. Do you approve?"

"Yeah, it's great. When do we eat?"

"Jesse, you're incorrigible."

"Yes, I know," replied Dr. Travis with pride.

Mark tossed a tomato at him and suggested that he make himself useful as well as ornamental, so he helped finish the salad. In due course, they sat down to eat. Steve asked to say something before they began and they nodded their assent.

"Guys, thanks. Thanks for helping me, for being here. I need you all very much, especially now. As painful and frightening as my physical injuries are, starting counseling next week really terrifies me. Please help me."

Mark replied: "Steve, we know that you're frightened; so are we. But try not to dwell on it." At Steve's look, Mark continued: "I know that's a cliché and not a very good one, but it is nonetheless true. I also know that we'd be equally scared if we were facing this, but dwelling on it really doesn't help. It ties you up in knots and doesn't allow you to relax and heal. Let us be the help that we want to be. We'll talk this week about what's going to happen. Right now, let's just enjoy your homecoming, enjoy each other."

And they did just that. They ate, drank and talked into the night. Steve didn't eat quite as much as usual, but he seemed to enjoy what he did consume. At around 10:00 p.m., Jesse, Amanda and Susan left and Mark started to clean up. As Steve brought some dishes into the kitchen, Mark noticed the fatigue in his eyes and suggested that he retire for the night. Steve agreed saying:

"All right, dad. I am tired. Leave the rest of the dishes and I'll help you tomorrow before we go. I'm really looking forward to that ride. Good night, dad."

"Sleep well and call me if you want me--for any reason. Steve, would you like to stay up here for a few days? Or have me stay down with you?"

"No, dad, at least not now. If I change my mind, I'll let you know. Don't worry. I won't do anything stupid. I know that I need your help and I won't blow it off."

As Steve walked toward the stairs, Mark said: "Good night, Steve. Welcome home."

Steve went to bed and fell asleep. Mark sat up for awhile, and tried to put everything that had happened in perspective. The good news: Steve was home, and he was physically all right. The bad news: there was something going on inside Steve, something not at all good; they still didn't have any truly useful clues as to who could have kidnapped and brutalized him so. Mark laid his head on the back of the chair and pondered what clues they had. Everything rested on that logo, that circle that Price barely saw. He closed his eyes. What the heck had Jim said about that logo? He thought and thought. Then he slept.

Pt.9
As the sun shone into Mark's living room, he awoke with a start. He'd slept the night in that chair. He looked at the clock on the mantle and noticed that it was about to strike the hour of 7:00. He arose and looked around, afraid that Steve had awakened before him and was already upstairs. Assuring himself that Steve was still asleep, or at least still downstairs, Mark decided to shower and start breakfast. The coffee had just finished perking, when he heard Steve bounding up the stairs. He entered the kitchen, and Mark was pleased to see him showered and dressed.

"Good morning, Steve. You look well-rested and calm."

"Hi, dad. I am. I really did sleep last night. I guess that the high hasn't yet turned into a low. I'm also really hungry."

"Ah, a sure sign of recovery," said Mark with a twinkle in his eye. "Grab some coffee and sit. What do you want?"

"Pancakes and bacon?"

"OK, but would you start the batter?"

"Sure, dad." Steve went to the cupboard, brought down the pancake mix and had the batter prepared as Mark finished the bacon. "Here's the batter, dad. Want me to help?"

"Steve, don't overdo it. Sit down."

After about ten minutes, Mark had made enough pancakes for both of them. As they ate, they talked about the day's plans and Steve finally said:

"Dad, I feel great. I know that I can put this behind me. As soon as I finish the sauce, we can take a great ride and spend all day together. I figure that the counseling should take about a week and then I can be certified fit for duty."

"Steve, slow down. What about two nights ago in your hospital room? What about all of the pain, this evil that you felt?"

"I think it was just because I was still hurting and still in the hospital. The abduction happened and now it's over. I'm back with you guys, and I can put the kidnapping in its box and lock it. I'll take the dishes into the kitchen and start the dishwasher. Then we can go. OK?"

Mark looked at his son, and every alarm known to a doctor went off, but he decided that the better course would be to support Steve. Let Steve's doctors deal with this; this one time he would be just "dad." He would mention that he had spoken with Dr. Elena Martines, head of the psychiatric unit at Community General and occasional consultant to the Los Angeles Police Department. That should be of some help to Steve. He went into the kitchen and helped Steve clean up. They packed a small cooler with water and soda and left for BBQ Bob's, and then a soothing drive up the Pacific Coast Highway. By the time that Steve and Mark reached BBQ Bob's, the breakfast crowd had dwindled and the cooks and serving staff were preparing the restaurant for lunch. That is, until one of the college kids cleaning tables saw them enter. He whistled an obvious signal to the staff and they came out to welcome Steve back. Steve reflected on how good it was to see them all again. He hadn't realized it, but he'd missed them, and the hustle and bustle of the place.

"Welcome back, Steve. It's good to see you," said Marty, the head cook.

"Good to be back," replied Steve.

Steve went toward the kitchen and winced a bit at a twinge of pain in his side. Mark saw it and asked if they should return home, or go to Community General and have Jess take a look.

"Dad, it will pass."

Steve set the magic ingredients on a table so that he could sit as he concocted the famous sauce. After he finished the batch of sauce, he decided to spend a little time checking to ensure that everything was OK. He said that he would come by occasionally; if anything were urgent, they were to call. Steve winced in pain again, and Mark decided that they were going nowhere but to Community General, so that Jesse could have a look. Susan saw them as they entered the hospital and ran to meet them saying:

"Steve, what's wrong? I can see a trace of pain in your face."

"It's nothing, Susan. Dad's overreacting. I had to go to Bob's to make a batch of sauce this morning, and felt a twinge or two in my side."

"Sit down, now. I'll page Jesse."

Jesse came into the ER in answer to Susan's page and said:

"What's wrong, Susan? I didn't hear ambulances; did we have an influx of patients?"

"No, Jesse, just one, a very special one, however. Over there."

Jesse saw Steve and Mark, approached them and said:

"Steve, I told you to take it easy."

"Jess, I wasn't doing anything. I just felt a twinge in my side. Dad insisted."

"Come on, Steve," said Jesse, "let's take a look."

After an examination, Jesse said that he didn't think it was too serious and it wouldn't be necessary to cancel the day's plans, but did advise caution. Steve and Jesse returned to the lobby and filled everybody in on the results of the exam. Steve and Mark took their leave and headed for the PCH. Steve had conversation and relaxation on his mind. After several hours of driving for awhile and then stopping to walk a bit, Steve turned to his dad and said:

"Dad, I guess I'm getting a little tired. Would you mind if we started home?"

"No, Steve. Should I cut over to the freeway the first chance I get?"

"Yes. Before we get home I'd like to go by the station and see Herrera. I have to tell him that my little experiment was a failure, and I also want to find out if I missed that court date. I assume that I did, and that the case was dismissed because the DA couldn't get a continuance. My situation was probably too uncertain for the judge."

"All right, Steve. We'll go see Herrera but don't get too agitated."

"I won't."

As Mark drove to the station, Steve reclined his seat and drifted off. Mark woke him as they pulled into the station parking lot. They entered Steve's office and, when finally noticed, received a round of applause and a chorus of "Welcome backs." Steve reminded them that he was not quite ready to return to duty, but he thought he'd be back soon. Herrera happened to be in his office and came out to greet them.

"Hi, Steve, Mark. Am I glad to see you."

Steve spoke: "Hello, Captain, it's good to see you, too."

"How are you, Steve?"

"Fine, really. Dad and I went for a ride up the coast; we were on our way home so I decided to stop here. I went back to the gas station to try to jog my memory. I really tried but it didn't work. I still don't remember anything more about the abduction. I also want to know about the Adams case. I assume that I missed the court date."

"Yes, Steve, you missed it. The court date was the 5th. The judge was quite aware of why you weren't in court and gave a three-week continuance. Even Rogers, Adams' attorney, agreed that your absence wasn't your fault. I never thought that he cared much about any cop who was testifying against his clients, but he was truly upset and concerned about you. He went so far as to say that he wouldn't touch the case when we finally arrest the scum who did this. Listen, Steve, I don't want you to worry about the Adams case. Don't hurry your recuperation and counseling just for this. Let the DA and me handle it. If you aren't ready, you aren't ready. I don't want you on the stand if you aren't yourself. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. Thanks. I just wanted to know. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Steve, Mark. By the way, when do you start counseling?"

"Next week, I think. I'm hoping it won't take too long before I can be back."

Steve and Mark left the station and returned home. Steve asked his father out onto the deck and said to him:

"Dad, will you talk with me?"

"Of course, son. What do you want to discuss?"

"Dad, tell me about the counseling. I'm used to dealing with the Department shrinks and I'm pretty comfortable with them, but I don't understand this process. What's going to happen?"

"Steve, would you rather see a Department doctor? When we spoke that last night in the hospital, I just assumed that, because you were so unsure of everything, you didn't want a Department psychiatrist. Did I misread you, or have you changed your mind?"

"You didn't misread me. I've been thinking and, as I said earlier, I just reacted the way I did because I was still so close to the abduction. If I see a Department shrink, there won't be a problem with returning to duty."

"Have you already made that decision?" Despite all his plans and resolve, Mark realized that he couldn't be "just dad." He would have to make Steve understand what he was doing. Mark continued: "Steve, I think that you're denying the hell that you went through. You're trying to box it up and pretend it didn't happen. Many people do that, and often they cope very well. They function normally and never talk about their trauma. That's fine if one has a low-pressure job. You don't. You're in a profession with the highest possible pressure level and just about the highest everything else. This will catch up with you, and the result might be ten times worse than what you've already endured. It could be someone's life and that someone could be you. Remember what I told you about the psychos who kidnapped you."

"Dad, you're exaggerating."

"Am I? Son, if you are comfortable with a Department counselor that is fine with me. If you want a psychiatrist at Community General, I'll support you on that. I will facilitate any type of counseling that you want. I will stand by you whatever your decision about the future. I will fight with you against the Department if necessary. But I will not help you deny the severity of the ordeal you have been through and put it in a box."

"But, dad, I said that I wouldn't deny it. I just said that I want to put it behind me, to call it over and get on with my life. It happened, yes, but what's the point of dwelling on it?"

"Steve, you had nightmares in the hospital, you flinched away from us for two days, you won't talk about it. You're trying to pretend that it is nothing worse than a flesh wound. Think, Steve. Think about what you want in your future."

Steve looked at his father and sighed: "Dad, every time I think that I'm OK, you say something and the doubt comes back. Why do you have to do that?"

"Steve, do you think that I do it for pleasure? I'd like nothing better than to say that you can get away with pretending, but I can't. I've tried all day to pretend that I'm just your father, but I can't. I want my son back, and I want him whole. Amanda, Jesse and Susan want their friend back, and they want him whole. If anything I can say brings back the doubt, can you look at me straight on and tell me that you're really comfortable with not talking about it?"

Steve looked straight into his father's eyes, took a deep breath and said: "Yes, no. I don't know. This morning I felt so good that I was sure I could put this behind me; now I'm back to the other night."

Mark placed a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder and said:

"Steve, do you realize what you've just said? You're vacillating between knowing what you want and how you feel, and being so upset that I see tears in your eyes. Doesn't this tell you anything?"

"Do I sound like I'm self-destructing?"

"Not self-destructing. You're confused, troubled and hurt. I don't want to jump all over you. I'm not angry with you. I'm afraid for you, and I think that the only way you'll recover is to take this trauma seriously and take the counseling sessions seriously. That means talking about it. Just remember your promise to get your head on straight before making any decisions."

"If I work with a doctor from Community General, are you going to know what I say?"

"Only if you tell me. No doctor there is going to betray a patient, not even if the patient's father is the head of Internal Medicine. Is that what's been bothering you?"

"A little, I guess. I know how you get things out of me; I figure that you can get anything out of anybody."

"No, Steve. I could badger them until hell freezes over, and they won't even tell me what you drank during your appointments, much less what you said. Don't worry. I have what I think is good news. The head of the psychiatric unit is also a psychiatric consultant with the Department. I spoke with her earlier when I thought that you wanted to see a psychiatrist from Community General. She said that she would be glad to speak with you and try to establish a rapport. Steve, she's a fine doctor and knows police officers well."

"What's her name?"

"Dr. Elena Martines."

"I've heard of her. Some of my friends talk about her. They really think that she's great. They said that she really wants to help us, but yet she can spot a con job a mile away. I think that I'd like to talk to her. This might work out yet."

"All right. Do you want to call her and make the appointment, or shall I?"

"I'll do it." Steve took a deep breath and picked up the phone. He dialed the number that Mark gave him and heard the telephone ring. After a moment, he heard a voice say:

"Dr. Martines."

Steve was surprised and said: "Oh. I thought that I would get your nurse or secretary. I'm Lt. Steve Sloan from the LAPD. I understand that my dad, Dr. Mark Sloan, made some preliminary inquiries about counseling for me. I'd like to make an appointment to talk with you, if I may."

"Hello, Lieutenant. Yes, I have spoken with your dad. I gave him this number so that your call would come directly to me. I would be very happy to see you. What day did you have in mind?"

"How about Friday, early afternoon?"

"Friday happens to be a light day for me. About 1:30 in my office at the hospital? We'll talk and get to know each other."

"Thank you, Dr. Martines. I hope that we can establish a rapport. If everything works out, maybe the Department will accept your report as evidence of fitness."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I understand your anxiety, but time will be the best friend that we have. However, when we are finished and you are well again, the Department will accept my report. Of that, you can be sure."

"See you Friday, Dr. Martines. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Lieutenant."

Steve hung up the phone, smiled and said: "She said that she'd see me on Friday. Dad, what happens next? Steve, I doubt that it will be much different from how you work with the Department's doctors. You'll spend Friday just getting to know each other. She'll probably ask a few leading questions. You'll answer and ask a few questions of your own. You'll feel each other out. Son, if you are honest in your replies, things will work out. You will be able to put this behind you, and, whatever future you decide that you want, you will have. Just remember that."

"OK, dad. I still feel funny, but I guess that there's no point in pretending that I can avoid the counseling. I just really want this to be over. Is that so wrong?"

"Wrong? No, Steve. That's what we all want, but, this time, it's not just waiting for a bullet wound to heal. It's your mind that has to heal and you have to do all the work. That, my son, takes time, effort and no little emotional pain. We can ease the pain, but you're on your own for the rest."

"OK, dad. I'm kind of beat. Would you mind if I lie down for awhile?"

"No, I'm kind of beat myself. How about we both rest and then have dinner at one of the restaurants on the beach?"

"Sounds good."

They both lay down and slept for about an hour. Just as Mark and Steve were about to leave the house for dinner, there came a knock on the door. Steve opened it to Charlie Clark.

"Hi, Charlie. It's good to see you."

"Hi, Steve. I just came by to check on you. Are you better?"

"Come in." As they climbed the stairs Steve continued: "It's hard to say. Last night and earlier today I felt great; now, I don't feel so well. I suppose that has more to do with the fact that I'm going to have a first meeting with my shrink on Friday afternoon. I'm a little apprehensive."

"I bet." When they reached the living room, Charlie saw Mark and said:

"Hi, Mark. How's everything?"

"As well as can be expected, Charlie. Thanks for coming by."

Mark brought iced tea for everyone, and they sat and talked. After about twenty minutes, Steve mentioned that they were just going out for dinner and asked Charlie if he would like to accompany them. He accepted the invitation, and they left for a little seafood restaurant on the beach. They passed a pleasant couple of hours with a leisurely dinner and conversation. After a final coffee, they went their separate ways. Mark and Steve returned home; Steve went to bed; Mark retrieved the day's catch of e-mail and then retired.

Pt.10
On Thursday, Mark and Steve passed a quiet day. Steve walked on the beach for awhile and spent some time floating in the Pacific, just so he could be in the water. Charlie Clark came out to spend his lunch hour with them. That evening, Jesse, Susan, Amanda and CJ came for dinner. After steaks, salad and pie, Steve picked up CJ and they went into the living room together.

Steve began: "CJ, thanks for the pictures that you sent to me when I was in the hospital. They brightened the room a lot."

"You're welcome, Uncle Steve. Mommy said that you were really sick. Did it hurt bad?"

"Yes, CJ, it did, but I don't want to think about that right now. Did you bring a game with you, tonight?"

"Yes, Uncle Steve, Chutes and Ladders. Do you want to play it with me?"

"Yes, I do. Why don't you run and get it and we'll play for awhile."

As CJ ran for his game, Amanda came into the room.

"I heard that. You want to play with CJ?"

"Yes. Tomorrow is my initial appointment with Dr. Martines, you know that, and spending a little time with him calms me. Who knows, maybe I'll even win this time!"

"Yeah, right. You haven't yet. What makes you think that you've changed so much that you'll forget how to lose?"

"Who loses on purpose?"

"You do. Your dad told me that you were the Chutes and Ladders champion of kindergarten."

"Dad has a big mouth."

"Yeah, and you wouldn't have it any other way."

They both began to laugh as CJ came back into the room. Amanda left and said:

"Have a good time, guys."

Amanda went back into the kitchen and sat with Mark, Jesse and Susan. As they started to talk, they heard the sound of laughter resonate throughout the house. They looked at one another and breathed a collective sigh of relief. At least for the moment, Steve was calm and happy. Mark looked at them and said:

"Let's work on the case again. I think that it will really help Steve if we can facilitate an arrest. We still don't know what else they did to him or what, if any, threats they made. It occurs to me that Steve might be so adamant about not talking because of something like that. Perhaps they threatened him further if he talks. Perhaps they threatened one or all of us. If that is the case, Steve will never talk."

Jesse responded: "You're right, Mark. I never thought of that and I'd bet that nobody else did either."

Amanda and Susan nodded agreement and Susan said:

"Let's start. We have a dark Ford, Dodge or Chevy pickup with a California plate, first number 5."

"Susan," said Jesse, "you were right next to that truck. Didn't you see the color? And how is the sketch coming?"

"Jesse, it was that new color that's dark, but you don't know what color it is. The other day I saw a car that same color. If you look at it from one angle, it looks black, another, it looks dark green and, still another, navy blue. At the speed the truck was going, I don't know for sure. The sketch is ready and should be distributed tomorrow. By the way, Mark, Captain Herrera said that he would leave a copy for you at the hospital. Why don't you come by the lounge while Steve is in his appointment?"

"OK, Susan, I will," replied Mark. He continued: "Then there's this circle with a line under it. I really don't get this logo." He drew a circle and put a line under it. "I still don't remember what else Jim Price said, and it's driving me crazy."

Amanda arose and went to get some water, kicking off her shoes as she did so, and exclaiming: "My feet are killing me. I've been on them all day, doing autopsies. I bet I have circles under my eyes, too."

Mark was deep in thought as she said this, and as her words burrowed into his consciousness, he sat up so hard that he almost fell off the chair:

"That's is, Amanda! You've done it. I finally remembered what Price said. She said that it was a circle with a line under it, or a circle with feet! Finally, a break!"

Mark grabbed for a pencil and paper and drew a circle and put feet on the bottom. He got an attack of the giggles, and started to draw several variations of the circle with feet; he then left the room for a moment to check on Steve and CJ. Jesse picked up the paper and passed it around. When it came to Amanda, she glanced at it and started to put it down. However, something drew her gaze back to one of the drawings. It looked familiar, but she didn't know why. She continued to stare at it, and the image finally bubbled up from the deep recesses of her memory. She dropped the piece of paper, slammed her hand on the table and said:

"I have it, guys, I have it!" She showed Jesse and Susan the drawing in question and said: "This is the one. When I saw it, I knew that there was something familiar about it."

At that moment, Mark returned and questioned:

"Did someone drop something? I thought I heard something fall."

"No, Mark," replied Amanda, "I'm pretty sure that I've figured out what the logo is." She picked up the paper and indicated the drawing. "Mark, it's the Omega."

Mark replied: "The Omega? Are you really sure?"

She drew the Omega and said: "I wondered why your drawing looked so familiar, so I kept looking at it. It finally dawned. I remember it from my sorority, Alpha Delta Omega."

She showed Mark the drawing and the Omega. He wasn't quite sure and said: "Amanda, if Price saw a circle with feet, this is probably it, but what about the circle with a line under it?"

Jesse said: "Mark, I've been thinking about that. Jim said that he got only a very brief glimpse of the truck and the logo. Look at this." Jesse drew the side of a truck and put an Omega on it, just above the side molding. "Now, if you look quickly, you can't tell whether it's a line, or the Omega. I think that's why Jim couldn't tell."

"Jess, that makes sense. Thanks, both of you. Now, Omega what?"

Susan went for the telephone book. She opened the business section and flipped to the Os. She ran her finger down the pages until she came to Omega, sighed and said:

"Damn. Mark, there are pages of Omegas. There's an Omega for just about every type of company and product. I'll start reading but, unless you have an incredible memory, we'll never find it tonight."

Mark replied: "Well, let's read them off anyway. Maybe one of them will jog a memory."

They went through every Omega that was in the book, from Omega Acetylene Torches to Omega Zinfandel Vineyards, but nothing came of it. They resigned themselves to having made only a partial breakthrough. That was better than nothing, however. At that moment Steve entered the kitchen and said to Amanda:

"Amanda, CJ is asleep." Then, grinning from ear to ear, he continued: "Guess you were right. Just can't seem to forget how to lose. You'd better check on him." As Amanda left the room, Steve continued: "What'd you guys do while CJ was taking me to the cleaners with Chutes and Ladders?"

Jesse replied: "We started to work on the case again. We made some progress and then ran into a wall."

"What did you find out?"

"Well," said Mark, "we've determined that the dark truck is a Ford, Dodge or Chevy."

"How did you do that?"

Jesse responded: "Actually, we had that while you were in the hospital. Jim Price said that the truck was probably one of the big three. That makes it a Ford, Dodge or Chevy."

"Good thinking."

Mark continued: "Tonight we made an important discovery. We've determined that the logo is the Omega. Unfortunately, there are too many businesses with the name Omega something, way too many. Susan's sketch one of the perps will be ready tomorrow. In fact, I should be able to get a copy while you're with Dr. Martines."

Steve replied: "That's one sketch I'd rather not see, thanks."

"OK, son, if you're sure."

Steve yawned and said: "I am. I'm also getting as tired as CJ. Would you guys mind if I went to bed?"

Susan interjected: "Of course not, Steve. You still need quite a bit of rest. It's getting late, anyway. Maybe we should all go. Tomorrow is a big day."

Amanda re-entered the kitchen and announced that she was taking CJ home and asked Jess to carry him to her car. They all said good-bye and took their leave. Mark sent Steve downstairs, finished locking up and went to bed.

Pt.11
Friday, July 12th, dawned clear in Malibu. Mark had been so tired, that he did not awaken until 8:00. He arose and came out into the living room, secure in the belief that Steve was probably still asleep. The previous day had been long, and Steve was quite tired when he went to bed. He would have breakfast ready before Steve came upstairs. As he entered the kitchen, he was startled. Steve was not asleep; he was standing in the kitchen, staring out the window. In fact, he had even made the morning brew. Mark approached him and said:

"Hi, Steve. How did you sleep last night?"

"Hi, Dad. OK. I tossed and turned a little. I thought of coming up here, but I didn't want to wake you."

"Steve, you should have. I want you to wake me if you need me."

"That's just it, dad. There really wasn't anything that you could have done. I just decided to walk around a little. Eventually I got sleepy enough so I went back to bed. I got up around 6:30 and came up here."

"Why didn't you call me then?"

"No reason to. You need sleep, too. Besides, I wanted to be alone for awhile."

"Steve, am I hovering? Are you bothered by my being around all the time?"

"Yes, you're hovering, but I'm not bothered by it. It's nice. I might snap at you occasionally, but I hope you realize that I don't mean it. It's just everything that's happened."

"I know that you don't mean it, Steve. This past week has been a nightmare, worse than the affair with the Trainors."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't know why. Oh, well, I guess that's what I'm supposed to figure out with Dr. Martines."

Mark chuckled and gave Steve a pat on the back: "Yep, that's part of what you're supposed to figure out."

"Dad, after we eat would you take a walk on the beach with me?"

"Of course, Steve. What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't especially want to talk. I just want to walk, but I don't want to walk alone. Is that OK with you?"

"Sure. Now, any ideas on what you want for breakfast?"

"I'm not really hungry. Whatever."

"Steve, you have to eat something."

"I will. I just don't care what it is."

"Are you apprehensive about this afternoon?"

"Yeah. Shows, huh?"

"Yes, it shows. You have a right to be apprehensive. You're going to meet Dr. Martines for the first time, and, in a one-hour appointment, decide if this is the person with whom you can discuss your innermost thoughts and fears."

"I keep thinking about that. How am I supposed to know?"

Mark smiled: "Believe it or not, you'll know. You'll feel comfortable with her. Whatever she asks you, answer truthfully. Don't talk around any issues that might come up today. If you are honest with her today and comfortable as well, she is the right person. Now, what about breakfast?"

"Just toast and coffee, I guess."

After breakfast, Steve and Mark walked along the beach for about an hour. They'd talk a little, but most of the walk was spent in silence. When they got back to the house, Charlie Clark was there.

Mark said with a grin on his face: "Hello, Charlie. Checking up on us?"

Clark retorted: "Of course. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

Steve interjected: "Nope! I think that you're supposed to check up on me. And I'm fine."

"Sure you are," replied Charlie. "You meet with your psychiatrist today, don't you?"

"At 1:30."

"That's what I thought. I just came by to see you, and to wish you the best."

"Thanks, Charlie. Want to stay for a bite?"

"I'd love to, but I can't. There's a story brewing on an old murder case. Parole hearing. Have to find out about it."

Mark chuckled and said: "Ah, the news hound at work. Oh, Charlie, could you put a short word of thanks in your next column? Steve's received a number of cards from your readers."

"Sure, Mark. Be glad to. See you. Steve, call me if you need me."

"OK, Charlie, I will. Thanks."

"Good-bye, Steve, Mark,"

"Bye, Charlie."

Steve and Mark had time for a bowl of soup before leaving for the hospital. As they drove on campus, Steve shuddered a bit. Mark noticed and remarked:

"Steve, are you all right?"

"More or less. Seeing the hospital brought back the full force of the abduction. I'm also a little scared about meeting Dr. Martines."

"I understand. Do you want me to go with you to her office?"

"No, it's not necessary."

"Fine, son. While you're in with Elena, I'm going to get a copy of Susan's sketch and look in on a few patients."

"I thought you were on leave?"

"I am, but if I don't do something, I'll sit for an hour or so and fret about what's happening to you."

"Would you prefer to just drop me off and go home? I can probably catch a ride with Jess."

"Lord, no, that would be even worse."

As Mark finished his sentence, he pulled into a parking spot. He and Steve got out and entered the hospital through the Emergency Room doors. Jesse spotted them and approached.

"Hi, Steve. How are you today?"

"Hi, Jess. I'm fine. You know, not great but not really bad either. I suppose that I'm scared, but I don't know why. I've worked with psychiatrists before. Maybe it's just because I'm here and not at Headquarters." Steve looked at his watch and saw that it was 1:25. "I'd better get going, Jess, dad. I'll see you in the lounge afterwards."

Mark replied: "All right, Steve."

While Steve went off to Dr. Martines' office, Mark and Jesse went into the lounge. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Jesse said:

"Mark, how is he really?"

"Jess, it's hard to say. Some days, he's bright and cheerful, others, quiet and morose. I really don't know what to do for him."

"Mark, I don't think that there's anything you can do for him, except be there."

"You're probably right, but he's really troubled."

"What do you mean?"

Amanda entered at that point and said: "Yes, Mark, what do you mean? He seemed OK last night."

Mark continued: "Last night, I think that he was, but he was pensive this morning. The other day when we returned from our ride, he wanted to discuss his counseling. He was ready to call this ordeal over and not really talk about it. He figured that he'd go through counseling and be certified for duty. It was all I could do to make him understand that, at best, he's unsure of how he feels. Even now, I don't know if I got through. I had intended to be 'just dad' throughout all of this, but I had to make him see what he was doing to himself."

Amanda replied: "Well, Mark, at this point you can only hope that you got through. From now on, you can only be 'just dad.'"

"I know, honey. But I can't help the way I feel."

"Of course you can't," said Jess. "It would be unnatural if you could. Just try to hold back a little."

Replied Mark: "What you really mean is, remember that I don't get to know what went on unless he tells me. And I'd better not press."

"Yes, that is what I mean. Sooner or later he'll probably tell you, but let him do it at his pace. And, if this time he doesn't, don't let it affect you."

"You're right, Jess. Is Susan's sketch ready yet? I thought that I'd be able to get a copy by now."

Amanda responded: "She's getting them now. Captain Herrera just arrived. I told him about our success last night and he'll add out information to the case file."

Mark continued: "Good, Amanda. I suppose that the next order of business is to see if I recognize the man in the sketch."

Just as Mark finished his sentence, Susan entered the lounge carrying four copies of the sketch. "Here are the copies."

Mark looked at it and said: "Don't recognize him, at least not now. Maybe after I get a good look. I'm going to check on some patients, and I'll try again when I get back."

As they all arose to leave, Jesse said: "Susan and I have to go back on duty. See you later."

Amanda said: "Have to go. A medical examiner's work is never done."

They left the lounge, each wondering how Steve was coping.

Pt.12
At 1:26 p.m., July 12, Lieutenant Steve Sloan opened a door and entered the outer office of Dr. Elena Martines, head of the psychiatric unit of Community General and consultant to the Los Angeles Police Department. He approached the reception desk and said to the nurse seated there:

"Hi. I'm Lt. Steve Sloan and I have an appointment with Dr. Martines."

Nurse Eva Jackson smiled and said: "Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Dr. Martines' last appointment is running a little late, but the delay will give you time to fill out the inevitable paperwork."

She handed him a clipboard with a patient information form attached, which he completed and returned to her. Just as he did so, he saw Dr. Martines' patient emerge from her office. Rather than return to the chair and sit, he walked to the window and looked outside. Once again he wondered what would happen during the day's session. He was so deep in thought that he didn't hear Nurse Jackson call his name. She spoke again and he snapped back to reality. As he walked toward Dr. Martines' office, he took a deep breath and thought, "It's now or never, and never isn't an option." He entered.

As he shut the door he heard: "Hello, Lieutenant Sloan. I am very pleased to meet you. Sit down and try to be comfortable."

"Hello, Dr. Martines," replied Steve as he sat. He looked at her across the desk and saw an attractive woman in her sixties, with short, graying hair. He sensed a gentle manner, and so felt comfortable commenting: "I'm curious. Try to be comfortable?"

"Yes, I generally say that when I first meet a patient. It accomplishes two things: first, it breaks the ice; second, it assures the patient that I am aware that coming here is no easy task."

"You're right, it does break the ice. I didn't expect a light remark."

"Most people don't. That is understandable. I just want you to know that I would very much like to help you if we are comfortable with each other. A good part of our time together will be unpleasant, so the first day, at least, should be somewhat light in tone." Now, what brings you here?"

"Departmental and parental policies."

"The Departmental policy I understand, but parental policy?"

"My dad's a doctor, you know that. He's convinced that I have some terrible emotional illness, but I don't. I was kidnapped but it's over. I really feel fine. I just want to talk with you so that you can certify me as fit for duty."

Steve looked up at Dr. Martines and saw her fix her gaze upon him, eyes just so, and slowly shake her head. Oh, no. There it was. The look. The look that he'd known all his life.

"They were right," he finally said.

Dr. Martines responded: "Who were right?"

"My friends in the Department whom you've counseled. They said that you could spot a con job a mile away. Your look just now told me everything; I know it very well. Mom and Dad were experts in the art of staring me down. I had to try."

"Everybody does."

"You're not angry?"

"No. You tried it for more than the obvious reason. You hoped that I would spot it and call you on it. If I did, then I could be trusted to care about your best interests. Think about it over the weekend."

"Now, what brings you here?"

"Well, Departmental policy isn't a complete lie, but it's not the main reason I'm here. How much did dad tell you?"

"No more than what was in the papers and on the news-that you were kidnapped, held for almost three days and brutalized. Why not see a Department doctor for counseling?"

Steve sat and stared. He bit his lip but couldn't answer. Finally, he replied: "I can't talk about it."

Dr. Martines started to reply, but thought better of it. She simply sat and waited. Finally, Steve said: "I really can't talk about it. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't get it out. I thought that today wouldn't be like this. I thought that we'd just get to know each other."

"We are. I sometimes ask leading questions just to get a feel for the patient. You don't have to talk about it now."

"And what is your feel for me?"

"That you have sustained serious psychological and emotional trauma in addition to your physical injuries. That deep down inside you, you're terribly afraid to talk."

"You're very perceptive. Now what?"

What do you think of the Dodgers' chances for the pennant?"

Steve looked at Dr. Martines in surprise and questioned: "What?"

"What do you think of the Dodgers' chances for the pennant?"

"Slim to none, although I wish otherwise. Boy, your questions don't just come from left field, they come from out of the ballpark altogether!"

"Well, you said that you wanted us to get to know each other. Now you know something about me, and I know something about you."

"You like baseball?"

"Sure, why does that surprise you?"

"I don't know. I guess that I thought psychiatrists never cared about anything but their profession. I just never pictured psychiatrists as interested in sports."

She smiled a somewhat indulgent smile and said: "Lieutenant, we are people, too. We have the same likes, dislikes, joys and fears that everyone else has. I go crazy for baseball, hot dogs, pizza, but can't stand football. Just like thousands of other people in this world. Just like you."

"I like football, too, but I see what you mean. I guess that I do know something about you. Tell me, how do you feel about cops?"

"Good cops are a very special breed. Bad cops are just bullies. You fall into that very special breed of good cop and I, for one, want to see you physically and emotionally healthy."

"Would you feel the same way if I said that I'm not sure I want to stay a cop?"

Dr. Martines sensed that Steve had just opened the door to his state of mind, and she was tempted to walk through it. She held back, however, deciding that it would be better if Steve invited her in. She replied:

"Are you telling me that, or are you trying to find out if it would make a difference in my attitude towards you, my willingness to counsel you?"

"I *am* trying to find out if it would make you hate me and not want to help me. As for the other, no, I'm not telling you that."

"Lieutenant, it would not make a difference in my attitude toward you, and I would most certainly still want to help you. We are talking about your life. I'm sure that your father has told you that until you're sick of hearing it, but it is worth repeating here. Let there be no mistake, I very much want to help you because I think that I can. I do believe that I can be a bridge between you and the Department, and that is what you need. I'll not coddle you; I'll challenge you when I think it necessary; I'll always be on your side. Do I offer what you want?"

"Yes, you do, and I was hoping that you would. I do feel comfortable with you. What happens next?"

"Well, we are just about at the end of our session today. Think about what we've discussed, but don't spend the whole weekend doing it. In fact, my prescription for this weekend is to attend the games. The Rockies are here. Try to put this out of your mind for awhile and enjoy yourself. Not easy, but try. I'll see you again on Monday at 2:00. Then we'll begin."

"OK, a little baseball sounds like fun. Monday, at 2:00. Thank you, Dr. Martines. By the way, what do you think of the Rockies?"

She snorted and replied: "Showoffs one and all."

They chuckled and Steve left her office, his heart considerably lighter.