The army of black and whites, followed by an equally large array of ambulances began to fill up the road in front of the nightclub by the time they left the scene of the bloodbath behind.
The small crowd of people they'd encountered initially had grown in size, all of them thankfully yielding his order to stay out and away from the building and let first responders do their job, many of them weeping in fear and impending heartbreak.
Aside from a broken window, there was no sign of the mass murder from the outside of the night club, the gunman having charged inside, done his deed and committed suicide in less than twenty minutes, not allowing for any of the helpless victims to flee through the narrow front entrance.
What a damn coward, Mike scoffed quietly, letting his eyes drift across the night sky that was beginning to fill with the unmistakable red and blue hue of an evening gone awry.
Screeching tires soon overpowered the sobs and frantic voices he'd heard earlier, following by the slamming of doors and boots rushing across the wet asphalt to join them.
Too late, unfortunately, for everyone inside.
"Lieutenant, Inspector. We got any survivors?", Sergeant Gerris asked hurriedly as he approached, .38 drawn and ready to storm in had it not been for Mike raising a cautious hand.
"No.", he answered quietly, causing the other man to frown, as the haunting information began to sink in, "We checked the front and I looked into the kitchen area. I found both cooks near the back door, but they never made it out in time. The shooter is dead as well."
By now several other officers had gathered around the two San Francisco Homicide detectives, their eyes wide in fear as they listened in on the chilling explanation.
"I…I can't believe how fast this all happened. We came here as soon as we got your call.", Gerris justified with a trembling voice, then waved the rest of the approaching officers over.
"We didn't get here in time either, Sergeant.", Mike countered somberly and lowered his head, "The moment we got the tip from one of his old-time friends, we traced Vargas down here but…but not soon enough."
With a weary sigh, the Lieutenant glance over at his partner, seeing Steve's eyes focused on something off in the distance, his pallor matching that of some of the bodies inside.
As more and more officers arrived, Mike stepped off to the side to make room for the crews to get in, occasionally repeating the reminder that the lab guys would have to go through here as soon as possible and not to disturb the crime scene.
Somewhere in the fog that was his mind acting on auto-pilot; he had given instructions to get a chaplain down here asap and start working with the people frantically lining the yellow police tape, hoping to hear about the condition of their loved ones.
Likewise, the Chief of Police and Mayor would need to be notified and steps would have to get taken to hand the investigation over to the Feds.
During his coordination effort, several teams from robbery had arrived, their faces ashen at a case that had gone from theft to mass murder in a flick of a switch. As a matter of fact, it had been by sheer coincidence that Mike had heard of Vargas' plans to take out his frustration on innocent night club visitors.
Their actual agenda for the evening had been to hunt down a witness to a murder/suicide they'd been investigating, when one of his stoolies cautioned them to stay away from a certain area for the time being, a terrible warning that led him to radio all available units in the vicinity for support.
While Mike stayed close to the door, taking over the role of a silent guardian overseeing the comings and goings until the Brass arrived, Steve had crossed the road, helping some of the unis put up more caution tape and push back the ever-growing crowds with the occasional news crew sprinkled in already.
Not too long ago, panic began to spread like a wildfire, and it took more and more officers to secure the outskirts of their crime scene, the situation growing increasingly worse when the first bodies were hauled out of the building, causing an echo of tormented cries to fill the narrow side street.
The chaotic scene turned into a blur soon after, as hours passed, information was being relayed, a heavy rain moved in again that soaked them all to the bone and Olsen told him for the third time to head home and get some rest, that there was nothing more for them to do.
But that's not what it felt like.
The sobs from the public skirting the nightclub never eased up, if anything, growing more intense with each body being removed until Mike lost count of exactly how many people had been shot to death.
The dramatic scene made him feel crippled, useless, and heartbroken for arriving too late.
Looking over at his partner, Mike knew he wasn't the only one feeling that way.
Sporting the same sunken shoulders and haunted expression, Steve had been working off autopilot, staying close to the parked Black and Whites to help coordinate the recovery efforts as needed, his eyes void of any emotion whenever he glanced around, trying to reevaluate their situation under the false guise of professionalism.
It was a dead-end street, that much Mike knew; a case that wasn't even theirs and yet they'd painfully been dragged into it to no fault of their own. And now, five hours after the fact, soaking wet and thoroughly disillusioned for the night, reality was beginning to overtake where the initial shock had left off.
He'd been starting to feel cold, then lightheaded, his heart trying to recover from the marathon he'd put it through earlier. As the rain moved out, a chill began to spread in his body, his arms and legs growing tired from the extra weight of his wet clothes.
After nearly twenty-four hours of work, his eyes were dry and burning, heavy lids threatening to shut whenever he wasn't paying attention.
Any minute now he'd call it a night; or so Mike had told himself over and over again for the past few hours, and yet, the dramatic scene gripped him, threatening to pull him back inside that nightclub as if all the answer he sought were to be found there.
Somewhere in between all that, a kind soul had handed him a cup of coffee, the strong liquid doing wonders to his dry mouth but souring his stomach shortly after.
Nonetheless, the Styrofoam cup was a welcome anchor to ground his thoughts for the longest time, giving his nervous fingers something to hold onto when his misguided senses urged him to interfere in a situation that had been out of his hands since the beginning.
Long after the cup was empty and his mouth began to feel like sandpaper again, Mike glanced up at the assortment of police officers, going about the scene like ants at a picnic. Somewhere in that mess, he managed to find his partner, leaning with his palms against the trunk of an unmarked police car, head sunk down to his chest, seemingly forcing himself to get away from the scene for a little while, even if it was just by closing his eyes to the heartbreaking reality.
It had been the cue he'd needed to finally call it a night.
Throwing the empty Styrofoam cup into a nearby garbage bin, Mike bridged the short distance to his partner, woefully aware of the cadence of voices around them rising, people along the caution tape hoping he'd approach with an update, shocked relatives fearing for the worst news one could hear.
The Lieutenant glanced up at them in undisguised compassion, shaking his head ever so gently, before joining his partner by the dark blue LTD, knowing that Steve was keenly aware of his presence without a single word being said.
"We've done everything we could."
Surprised by how raspy his voice sounded, Mike followed up with a warm hand on his partner's back, patting it gently.
"I know.", Steve replied quietly, not having to add the notion that it still didn't feel like it. They both knew that.
"I don't feel like catching pneumonia.", Mike finally added, throwing his partner a curveball in his downtrodden mood. It was enough for Steve to slowly raise his head again, then nod.
"Me neither."
"Let's get away from here then. I'll have Sergeant Lacey open up the barricades for us. Let's just go home. We'll…we'll sort this mess out later."
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