Rain had started to set in by the time they returned to San Francisco.
Much of the media circus due to the mass shooting could still be found around the Hall of Justice Building in the form of parked TV vans, overfilled garbage cans along the sidewalks and that haunted look in the eyes of everyone they passed in the long hallway leading to the elevators.
The sheer magnitude of the killing spree made it hard to move on from the tragedy, even though their jobs demanded just that. Steve couldn't begin to imagine what dozens of families were going through at the moment, having lost a family member or loved one in such a senseless act of violence.
Quietly digesting the perplexing turn of events their current investigation had taken; the young Inspector had aimlessly followed Mike through the building, not realizing they had arrived back at the Homicide bullpen until he heard the familiar noise of the Teletype machine going off.
And while everything seemed exactly like they had left it, all detectives safe and accounted for, things felt eerily different upon their return.
Maybe that was because they were different.
Maybe seeing the murder house and reliving the gruesome images down in Burlingame had changed them. Seeing how the seemingly ordinary family was slaughtered and their only son kidnapped and left to a questionable fate was something that shook even experienced detectives.
Add in a pinch of uncooperative law enforcement personnel and the possibility of an out-and-out connection between local police and the killer, and they suddenly had a very realistic recipe for disaster on their hands- something Steve was sure Alex had seen coming as well before committing suicide.
Deciding to stop by the water cooler for a much-needed drink, the young Inspector fell back for a few moments, never realizing Mike's inner office was currently occupied until he found the Lieutenant stand by his desk, wearily glancing through the windows.
Inside, a deeply flushed Olsen was having an agitated conversation with a man in a dark grey pinstripe suit, black locks held in place by what seemed like half a gallon of gel, clean shaven, exuding an aura of disinterest despite the heated words coming at him from the Captain of Homicide.
"Seems like our timing hasn't been the best all day. Should we head down to the cafeteria for a snack?"
Steve's innocent question earned him a slight smirk, and yet, Mike shook his head.
"Rene Verdant. One of the most unscrupulous defense attorneys I have ever come across. Typical ambulance chaser. That man has let more killers off than I care to remember. And he's smelling blood. Otherwise he wouldn't be here. Watch your back around him, you hear me, Buddy Boy?"
Clenching his jaws at the somber warning, he watched his superior and friend carefully knock on the door, hoping to offer some backup that Olsen dearly needed.
Inside, the Captain's head snapped up, his tense expression softening for the fraction of a second, before he beckoned them inside.
Steve reluctantly followed Mike into the lion's den, taking a moment to look at Verdant, study the face to the name he had heard so much about in the past.
The defense attorney had a dangerously calm aura, his expression fake and calculated, his strained smile as choreographed as the slow blinking of his eyes. This was a man who'd spent a lot of time researching police protocol and behavior, then using it against the force for whoever was able to pay his outrageous fees.
It was also the man who had received national attention for getting a softball coach off the hook after he murdered his wife, then drove their car over the embankment and into the ocean, claiming it had been a robbery gone rogue. Even though the supposed robbers were never caught and plenty of evidence pointed directly to his client's guilt; Verdant had been able to successfully convince the jury that the salt water had washed away too much evidence to indict his client beyond any reasonable doubt.
The court ruling had caused a wave of anger from sides of the media and public, which quickly turned into a witch hunt for blame.
Naturally, the police officers handling the case took the brunt of it.
Disguising the bad taste in his mouth beneath a cordial smile, Steve leaned forward to shake hands with the attorney, noticing his cold and clammy palm.
"Inspector Keller- I have heard much about you lately. You and the Lieutenant here are starting quite the fanclub with the DA's office."
Nodding at the snide remark, Steve made eye contact with Verdant, unsettled by the complete lack of emotion meeting his gaze.
"Law enforcement and the judicial branch are supposed to work together, Mister Verdant.", he countered matter-of-factly, coaxing a Cheshire cat grin out of the other man.
"Don't I wish that were true.", he fired back, before Olsen disrupted the argument in the making.
"Lieutenant, Inspector, I am glad you got back in time. This will make things a bit easier.", the Captain of Homicide explained, his voice trembling slightly, "As it seems, the family of Theodore Vargas has hired Mister Verdant here to represent him on a lawsuit against the city. The Homicide Department, to be exact."
"On what premise?", Mike barked, barely allowing his superior to finish his sentence.
"On the premise of dragging my client's son's reputation through the dirt, Lieutenant.", Verdant shot back, unable to hide a victorious grin.
"Your client's son is a mass murderer."
"That's what you are saying.", Verdant argued and stood up, as if to prepare his plaidoyer, "Everyone in that club was dead. You have no way of knowing that he was the killer."
From his side of the room, Steve saw Mike draw in a deep breath, those usually warm blue eyes turning cold and fierce in an instant.
"He talked about it in public. And just by chance he was found dead in a closet with the murder weapon by his side after he killed himself. The bullets match and so do his fingerprints on the gun. We have forensic evidence to prove all that. The case has been handed over to the Feds. It's time to stop your manic witch hunt, Verdant, and crawl back into the hole you came from."
"You think you have everything but you don't, Stone."
Shaking his head, the defense attorney crossed his arms, then pointed his chin at Olsen.
"As your Captain will remind you, Lieutenant, there are no witnesses that saw Vargas do it. The fact that he said he would do it and happened to be found there is circumstantial evidence at best. For all we know, the real killer could have planted the gun on him and disappeared. He's probably sitting somewhere laughing right now, while the police are tarnishing the name and reputation of my client's son who was brutally murdered."
Grinding his teeth, Mike remained quiet for many long moments, carefully gauging his words. Then, with a headshake, he stepped back, as if to make room for Verdant to leave.
"I always wondered how you can sleep at night, coming up with these frivolous lawsuits, Verdant."
"I am sleeping like a baby, knowing that we can hold law enforcement accountable for their sloppy investigation.", the defense attorney said smilingly, then grabbed his paperwork off the desk, "And better yet, by doing so, I make more in a month than you folks make in a whole year. Oh, and be sure to stick around. The family would like to get this matter settled in court shortly."