"Take the Puyallup exit just after Fife. We'll go in the back way. The Strat-O-caster has some CDs we really want to see."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kyra points Michael into the parking lot, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. She places Wolf on guard, then walks arm in arm in arm with Michael on her left and Matthew on her right. Her words flow softly as the three approach the doors.

"It's gonna get a little busy in here, guys.." she pauses a moment, then continues. "... but not for another hour or so. The Friday night rush doesn't start 'til about 9 or so." She grins, then pulls away from the men just a little as Matthew opens the door for her.

"Mmmm, and officer and a gentleman. Richard Gere's got some competition." His tone is teasing and light as Michael gets a dig in at his brother's expense.

Matthew doesn't miss a beat, his rejoinder eliciting greater laughter from Kyra. "Too bad you're not all you can be, Mike."

Kyra deftly guides the brothers to a table behind the Karaoke host's booth. Seeing that the crowd is lighter than she'd originally thought, Kyra sits against the corner. Michael slips into the booth beside Kyra, leaving Matthew to choose one of the two chairs across from them.

Moving of its own accord, Michael's hand subtly covers Kyra's beneath the table. A faint trill of excitement rolls through his body as Kyra scoots a little closer to Michael. With a slow nod to Matthew, Michael waves to a waitress, summoning her to their table.

During the next hour, Kyra's nerves twist and dance. Scenes of her Uncle's vette, twisted and mangled, undulate through her mind. She picks absently at the plate of nachoes before her, leaning her head against Michael's shoulder. Kyra seems deaf to Michael's question.

"Kyra? Are you okay?"

Matthew shrugs slightly at the question in his brother's eyes, diving again into the plate of chili fries before him. He swallows the food in his mouth, chasing it with a healthy dose of Rum and Coke, speaking clearly.

"He'll be here, Kyra. He probably had to stop for gas."

Kyra jerks her head upward, releasing a stuttering sigh of relief. Matthew turns in his chair, his eyes widening dramatically at sight of the huge man who makes his way through the thickening crowd.

"Oh my God.... he's huge!" Matthew's whisper is lost in the shuffle as Michael stands, extending his hand to his boss.

George takes Michael's hand in a firm shake, then turns to Matthew. The older man stands nearly seven inches taller, weighing a good hundred and twenty pounds more than Matthew's trim 160.

Kyra laughs brightly, remaining seated as she introduces the Lieutenant. "Uncle George, this is Matthew Thomas, Michael's younger brother. Matt, this is my Uncle, George Stratfield."

Matthew extends his hand, looking up at the human mountain before him. AS George shakes the young man's hand, his rich voice fills their little corner of the bar. "Nice to meet ya, son... but you shure you're 'lowd ta be in here? You sure you're 21?"

Kyra laughs softly, her body visibly relaxing. "Lay off him, Strat-O-Caster. He's an Army Lieutenant."

George raises a brow at Matthew, finally releasing his hand. The warmth in his voice grants Matthew a slight reprieve. "Not good enough for the Navy, eh?"

Michael laughs loudly, nearly choking as he swallows his Glen Morangie. Kyra adds her bright, musical laughter, laughing anew as Matthew shoots back with deadly aim.

"What do I need with an overrated Coast Guard?" Matthew then sits, taking a casual drink from his Rum and Coke as if he hadn't just insulted a man who could break Matt in half without batting an eye.

George's warm, bass laughter rumbles through the bar, inadvertantly summoning the waitress. "Touche, son. Touche."

The waitress comes to a stop beside George, completely dwarfed by his height. SHe extends a grin to Kyra, nodding toward the tower beside her. "So, you let him out of his cage, eh Red?"

Kyra laughs brightly once again, her quick nod a soft accompaniment. "Yup. You know we've got to be careful inflicting him on the 'Bird."

A grinning duet of laughter rings out as the waitress turns to the now-sitting George. She pats him lightly on the shoulder, then leans forward, kissing the top of Strat's head. "Nice to see you in here, old man. It's been a while. What'll ya have tonight?"

"Hello there, Darlin. It's nice to be had." George grins, then makes his order. "Gimme a double Scotch - single malt, of course - And a steak. Rare."

As the waitress takes down the order, Kyra asks for another round, then turns her gaze upon the people flowing through the Thunderbird. She scoots a little closer to Michael, her voice a soft caress as Kyra addresses the bear across from her.

"So, Strat... What kept you? I was worried."

Michael slips his arm protectively around Kyra's shoulders. His eyes are sharp as he watches first Matthew, then George. As the older man speaks, Michael gently pats Kyra's arm, holding her closer still.

"I had to put some things away." His voice fades a little as George casts a subtle glance around their immediate area. "And I didn't want to bring a shadow."

Kyra nods her understanding then raises a brow as Matthew goes silent, his head tilted slightly. She listens as well, opening herself to the feeling of her customary hang out. She feels nothing out of the ordinary, her perception backed up by Matthew's soft-spoken statement.

"It's clear for now. No unfriendlies."

George arches a brow at Matthew's words but refrians from commenting. he turns his attention to MIchael and Kyra, watching them for half a moment before his voice rumbles from his thick chest.

"Ya know, Thomas... when I told ya to take care of her, I didn't mean ya had to fall in love with her."

Kyra's deep blush and lowered eyes pull more laughter from George. Her whisper is meant for Michael's ears alone. "Sorry, Michael."

Michaels looks from George to Kyra, pulling her a little closer to him. He grins easily, though his comment is more for Kyra than her Uncle. "And how could I not love her, George? She's great." Michael raises Kyra's eyes by placing his fingers lightly upon her chin. "Kyra, never apologize for your Uncle's complete lack of manners. Navy men simply don't know any better."

Michael's grin spreads warmth throughout Kyra's body, her own lips turning upward in a delicate smile. "Thank you, Michael."

Kyra turns her eyes to George, practically glaring at him. "YOU!" She raises a brow slightly, a note of threat entering her voice. "That's one!"

George laughs loudly, guffawing at his Niece.

"I just call em as I see em."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sherriff Volkenwold growls to himself cursing repeatedly. He rises from the files upon his desk, beginning, for the first time in his life, to pace. A soft tap at his door halts the sherriff in mid-stride, a sharp bark issuing from his jaws.

"What?!"

A young deputy opens the door slowly, completely ignoring the tone of Volkenwold's snap. "Sherriff, we got the coroner's report back. Not much info in there." He enters the office, holding a slender file-folder out to the heavy-set man across from him.

With a snort of annoyance, Volkenwold grabs the file folder, opening it quickly. He scans the report then stops in place, eyes widening in shock. He looks up to the deputy, speaking with a hollow echo.

"Cause of death: eviceration?"

The deputy nods, shrugging slightly. "Yup. Spoke with the coroner myself. She said it wasn't a weapon what did it..."

Volkenwold waits a moment, expecting the deputy to finish his statement. The young man continues to watch his boss's face, not sure how to explain the rest.

Finally the sherriff prods his deputy onward. "And? What else did she say?"

With another shrug the young man continues. "She thinks it was an animal that did it. Said she found traces of pin-feathers. Her prelim..." Again he pauses, as if trying to grasp what he heard. "... the preliminary exam indicates it might have been a raptor."

Volkenwold stares blankly at the deputy, no thoughts moving through his mind. Eventually voice returns. "A what?"

With a sigh the deputy nods. "Yup, a raptor. Ya know, like a falcon. Hooked beak and all." He pauses again, looking at the folder then back to the sherriff's face. "She said it looked like some bird went ape shit on the dude. We should get the dental records in tomorrow for final identification."

As if he'd said all he was capable of, the deputy turns, leaving the office. Volkenwold simply stares at the closed door, confusion staining his weary eyes. Slowly he closes the folder, then goes about putting away the files on his desk.

Once his task is complete, Volkenwold takes one last look around his office, moves to the door, then turns off the light as he steps through. He makes his way through the halls of the small sherriff's station, unlocking his cruiser and sliding in behind the wheel. After putting the key in the ignition, the sherriff simply places his hands upon the steering wheel, muttering under his breath.

"It's been a long week. I'm goin home and I ain't gonna think about this again til Monday."

Turning the ignition and shifting into gear, the sherriff pulls out of the small parking lot, nosing the cruiser out into traffic. He begins his weekend with one last quietly spoken comment.

"I'm gettin too damned old fer this shit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the foursome are fed, Kyra looks up at the increasingly growing crowd. The noise level reaches a constant; a sursurant rushing of sound, buzzing around them. For half a moment, she looks around her, feeling the imaginary sea air, as if her ears were dancing in a rushing tide. She looks to Michael as he wraps his arm around her again. A faint trill of pleasure rolls through her, though Kyra quickly ignores it, settling down to focus on her Uncle.

"So, Strat-O-Caster, what do you have for us?"

George looks from Michael to Matthew, then to his Niece. He leans forward on the table, his voice hushed. "As I said on the phone, Dempsey was murdered today... or rather, we found his body today.... nasty mess too."

George shakes his head as he pushes on. "I was goin through his files an papers an such. Found some snaps of you and Ronnie..." For half a moment he pauses, swallowing hard. "An he had some discs... The formula an' notes an' all."

Matthew breaks in, a controled excitement in his voice. "You mean you've got the formula? And Hawkman's notes?" Matthew turns to his brother, practically whispering. "There might be hope.... "

George frowns, looking to Matthew with a slightly bemused expression. "Hawkman?"

Matthew nods briefly, dismissively. "Yeah, Dempsey... Go on."

With a faint shrug, George recounts his day's activities, pausing frequently for a dose of Scotch. Kyra closes her eyes, listening to her Uncle's words. Michael listens intently, holding Kyra close to him. Matthew nods often, yet he pauses each time George takes a drink, listening to the sounds in the bar.

As George nears the end of his monologue, Kyra looks up to the woman approaching their table. Interrupting her Uncle, Kyra grins, speaking in a slightly forced tone.

"Hey there, Becks. You gonna sing tonight?"

Becks nods slightly, a lopsided grin hinting at her eyes. "Yeah, are you?"

Kyra shakes her head, chuckling. "Nope. Not tonight. I'm beat."

The woman nods again, indicating Michael with a touch of jealousy to her tone. "That the guy you were tellin us about?"

Soft laughter rumbles from her chest as Kyra nods. "Yup. Michael, this is Rebecca Jordan, but she's known as Becks. Becks, this is Michael."

Michael nods briefly, his attention caught by the faint growl coming from his brother's side of the table. Responding with civility, Michael remains in his seat. "Nice to meat you, Miss Jordan."

Kyra hides a smirk by taking a sip from her blended margarita as Becks smiles a little too broadly. "Well, Michael, if you need anything, just give me a hollar."

Michael nods briefly, dismissing the woman with his next words. "If I need anything from you I'll let you know."

With a curt nod, Michael stands, excusing himself from the table. He slips through the crowded bar and out of sight as Becks stares after him. The woman turns back to Kyra, smiling a little too sweetly.

"Well Red, if you need any help with him, you let me know."

Again Kyra covers a smirk, nodding. "I will Becks. It was good seeing you. Have fun."

Finally taking the hint, Becks walks away, sliding through the crowd. A moment later Michael returns, shaking his head slightly at Kyra. His voice is soft, teasing.

"Later, I want you to tell me what you told her about me. But for now, let's get back to the business at hand."

Kyra laughs outright this time, unable to contain herself any longer. "Oh, Michael. If only you knew how greatly I detested her." Again Kyra laughs, her grin seemingly infectious.

Throughout the next hour, as the noise level in the bar increases, Kyra, Michael and Matthew take turns telling their stories. George listens to each in turn, asking occassional questions to form a more whole picture within his mind. As the conversation slows to a stop, kyra looks to her watch, raising a brow in surprise.

"Uh, guys? It's already midnight. I think it would be wise if we went somewhere more quiet."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~