After dropping off his partner at 2am, Mike finally made his way home, hoping that there were enough hours left in the night to allow for some reprieve to his current work schedule.
The fact that Kevin's body was safely stored in the morgue here in San Francisco and not Burlingame helped ease his worry somewhat.
By the time they left, Bernie's team hadn't been able to recover much more evidence beside the body, which honestly didn't surprise Mike eight months after the crime had taken place.
His mind wandered back to Carl, having sensed the illusive hermit keeping an eye on things from a safe distance as they went about their business.
There was no telling what exactly he had witnessed but it didn't take a genius to figure out that he had been there when the boy was murdered, his body carelessly hidden in less than a foot of mud and silt that smelled of rotten vegetation.
Clenching his jaws when the unwelcome images returned to his taxed mind, Mike steered the LTD up DeHaro Street, not surprised at the deserted scene that greeted him this early in the morning.
Being thoroughly used to having nothing but street lamps as silent companions, the Lieutenant let his eyes drift back and forth between the rows of parked cars, counting down the houses until he arrived at his home.
Finally, with an imperceptible sigh, he pulled into the parking spot in front of his garage and turned off the ignition, feeling every muscle and sinew in his body fight his movements.
The cold sea air greeted him, tugging on the corners of his fedora and chilling the back of his neck as he leaned down to grab the thickening Saunders file off the passenger side, when suddenly, the barrel of a loaded gun was pressed against his ribs.