Got done with chores a little earlier than normal today and decided to pull the laptop out into the barn. It's just way too nice of a day to sit inside, but I really wanted to finish posting this story. So…with the trusty Toshiba sitting on a 100gal metal water trough and me leaning back in my half-broken lawn chair enjoying a cold one, watching the cats and ducks and chickens moseying across the lawn, I guess I have found myself a tiny piece of heaven. Thank you again for all the encouraging words and following these stories. It means so much to get these in-depth reviews. It lets me know that people are actually reading this thing thoroughly and feeling the same way I do about the development of those plots and characters. Oh, and yes, I also have technical difficulties with the stories disappearing off this page. No clue as to why. I had hoped that completing a story would make it stop disappearing but that didn't do it. What I do is, I wait ten minutes, then refresh, and then they're usually back. I hope that helps some of you.

"Attention all units, this is Inspectors 8-1, be on the lookout for an armed individual, Kurt Grabinski, male, 6ft tall, red hair and beard, considered armed and highly dangerous, heading for one of the following shopping markets in order to attempt a shooting spree…"

Mike almost choked on those words, never having envisioned the need to use them. And yet, here they were, speeding east on Pine Street at a dizzying rate, hoping to intercept one of the two locations Riley had provided for their shooter to use.

Both of them were medium-sized grocery stores, owned and operated by unsuspecting individuals, targeted for nothing more than the fact that they fit the mold of the hardworking, blue-collar San Francisco business owner.

And somewhere, in Riley's twisted mind, the intention of the attack was to spread pain and misery in hopes of creating understanding for the suffering of others. It was a concept Mike had a hard time understanding himself.

Regardless of their killer's choice, either one of them would be filled with countless innocent human beings who didn't deserve to be slaughtered for some questionable intention. If Mike had his way, all of SFPD would soon be on their way to intercept the massacre in the making.

"Can't you drive any faster?", the Lieutenant cried out, more from frustration than anything else, as Steve navigated the Galaxy through early rush hour traffic at nearly 70 mph in a 30-zone, missing all the red lights along the way by some divine intervention only, and skillfully avoiding the occasional pedestrian crossing their path.

"You want us to get there in one piece, don't you?", Steve replied exasperatedly, his right thigh shifting as he repositioned his foot over the gas pedal.

"Geary and Grant…I am telling you, that's the one he's going to hit. He's not going to head all the way east on Mission. He's going to keep it right in the neighborhood."

"Why not another gay bar? I don't understand."

"I do. He's spreading the wealth, trying to sway the public's opinion farther into his corner by shifting the attacks to regular folks now, seniors, wives, innocent children, all the vulnerable parts of society…"

Mike's voice broke and he could see the grocery store in front of his inner eye, a small parking lot facing Geary fitting maybe fifty cars, three cash registered manned by women who worked part-time, looking to make some extra money for their families. Much of the equipment used was outdated, the aisles narrow and crowded, trying to fit as much merchandise in there as possible.

During the busy times, people piled in and out of Ray's Market at a staggering pace, putting the largest volume of potential victims in the easiest spot to target, right near the entrance.

Checking his wristwatch, Mike was woefully aware that right now would be one of those busy times, people going shopping after work and right before the weekend started.

With Riley handcuffed to his booth and a uni on the way to take him downtown for booking, they'd spread the word to all patrol cars in the vicinity, even tried to call the store manager but were unable to get through.

Because of two possible locations for the attack Riley had ordered for 5:30pm sharp, they had limited manpower at their disposal, especially considering they were going up against a semi-automatic rifle and plenty of innocent human beings in the crosshairs.

Mike had struggled with the notion of evacuating the building upon their arrival, hoping to ward off the attack but possibly causing a mass panic, while giving their killer a warning of their presence and a viable chance to flee; his other option was approach without sirens, quietly canvass the building, then set up patrols to cordon off the area and lure the mouse into their trap.

Because of the high probability of inadvertently creating a perfect target for an attack during an evacuation, Mike had settled on the latter option, ordering patrols to arrive with lights, but not to approach the markets and stay in place until ordered otherwise.

Pursing his lips, the Lieutenant swallowed the intense anger and downright disgust he felt toward Riley's poor decision-making, a choice that would put him behind bars for the rest of his life. And yet, no prison sentence was long enough to bring back the people who had already died in the path of his misguided hatred.

With tires squealing in protest, Steve steered the Galaxy into the parking lot of Ray's Market, both detectives getting jostled around as he jumped a curb getting too close to the westbound exit lane.

Slowing down significantly, the young Inspector waited patiently for Mike to retrieve the strobe light from the roof of the Galaxy, then navigated the tan sedan around the vast assortment of cars in the parking lot, his eyes scanning the perimeter for their suspect.

"Look for a cab…or a guy with a suitcase", Mike muttered, even though he knew Steve was well aware of their search parameters, and checked his wristwatch.

5:27PM.

"He's gotta be somewhere around here. Keep your eyes open, Buddyboy."

The gentle reminder was more than just that.

The underlying warning, the tremendous risk they were taking in approaching a highly dangerous gunman woefully underequipped all added to a decidedly somber atmosphere spreading inside the cab of the Galaxy.

In the background, fellow detectives were reporting their arrival along Geary, the radio chatter signaling at least four unmarked police cars waiting along the perimeter of the parking lot, half a dozen unis nearby to answer the call to arms if and when it came.

All around them, people returned from their shopping trip with bags full of groceries, many of them pushing strollers, holding hands with their young children, completely unaware of the horrific danger they were surrounded by.

And if Mike had his way, it would stay exactly like that.

As the tan sedan reached the front entrance of Ray's Market and slowly turned right to head back, he could feel Steve put on the brakes ever so subtly, his body becoming completely still, as he drew in a shuddered breath.

"He's right there, tucked against the wall of the building behind the flower van, Mike. I've got a positive ID."