Leaving Mike behind had torn on his heartstrings, but Steve knew that the standoff wasn't over until they could be sure that Grabinski was either dead, or contained; his horrible weapon as far out of his ruthless hands as possible.
As he walked over to the van, keeping up his neutral expression in hopes of assuaging the tormented shoppers that were watching his every move from inside the store, Steve was met by two unis, one of them Seargent Sanders.
The tall officer with the bushy mustache nodded faintly, and patted his shoulder as they met.
"You got him, Steve. That was a hell of a shot. We put the gun in the cab as evidence for the lab crew, if that's alright. Are you guys okay or do you need an ambulance?"
"Call one for Mike, please.", he answered in an even tone and used his free hand to lean against the hood of the van, when the rush of adrenalin left his body seemingly all at once, turning his knees into jello, "Cover up the body too please, so that we can get these people back into their cars. At least those that still have a windshield…"
"You got it, Inspector.", Sanders replied dutifully, hesitating for just a second as if wanting to say something, then headed toward a squad car with his partner in tow.
Swallowing the bile forming in the back of his throat, Steve circled the gray van, one hand remaining on the hood, feeling the heat of the afternoon warm up the metal below his fingertips.
Even before he arrived on the other side, he could see Grabinski's outstretched hand against the asphalt, innocent-looking fingers that had committed mass murder a week earlier, never hesitating to end the lives of innocent human beings in his path, and continuing to do so all the way to the end.
Mike's fedora turned frisbee was partially crumpled, stuck between the suspect's upper arm and the back wall of the building; such a seemingly benign object that had bought them enough valuable time to end what would have undoubtedly become another mass casualty event well before it ever started.
It took several long seconds of staring at the dead body by his feet to finally get him to relax enough to slide the .38 back into the holster by his left hip, his shaking hand not cooperating at first.
"Steve."
Mike's gentle voice appeared from behind, temporarily startling him. Turning around, the young Inspector found himself face to face with his best friend, and a somber Forester by his side.
"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be up. Ambulance is on the way. Grabinski…he…he's dead. He won't be hurting a soul anymore."
The slightest regret in his quivering voice wasn't lost on Mike who nodded slowly, then reached forward to grab his arm.
"Why don't you sit down with me? You're shaking like a leaf."
"I am not the one who's been shot.", Steve argued, growing suspicious when he noticed Forester and Mike sharing a brief glance, the hand on his upper arm grasping him tighter.
"The adrenalin is keeping you on your feet right now and that's why you aren't feeling anything. But you really need to sit down. That wasn't my blood you saw on my vest. It was yours."