Baltimore on the weekend before St Patrick's Day was busy and drunk, and the Federal Hill neighborhood was jammed full of people in green t-shirts swinging around glasses of beer and singing off-key. Steve and Danny were tracking down a lead from the felon who'd carjacked them last week but--and this was the very annoying part--might not have actually committed the crime he'd run from.

Steve was blending in with the locals wearing a shirt Danny had bought for him and had manfully avoided getting punched in the still sore ribs by making any leprechaun jokes about Danny.

He swatted off a person with a "Kiss Me, I'm Drunk" shirt and glanced around for street signs. "We have to be close to where his daughter lives."

Whether she'd be home or not was a question for later.