The Rogue Element (Scott Priest Book 1) (7 page)

She smiled when she turned to Kimball. “I couldn’t have you reporting back to my husband that I was a hostile witness, now could I?”

“You’re far from it,” I insisted.

Hostile? No. Not entirely truthful? Quite possibly.

We accepted the second offer of a cold water bottle on our way out, no doubt both wishing that we could take a cold bottle of Sam Adams instead.

CHAPTER 10

“So did you get what you came for?”
Kimball asked as we left the Utopian confines of Brandt’s gated community.

“Not entirely. I think she was holding out on us.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Did you see how uncomfortable she got when I brought up Arturo? She couldn’t move the conversation away from him fast enough. And the cover story for why Marisol was fired smells like total bullshit.”

I could see a slow build of frustration coming over Kimball. “So now you’re saying Mrs. Brandt was lying?”

“I don’t think she was lying. I think she was repeating the same bullshit story that was told to her.”

“So Commander Brandt was lying?”

“Unless she was part of some clandestine operation for DPD Internal Affairs, what business would a housekeeper have going through Commander Brandt’s department personnel files? It makes zero sense.”

“Ninety percent of what we see out here makes zero sense. But it doesn’t change the reality of it.”

“That may be the case most of the time, but in this instance I have good reason to be skeptical.”

“And what reason would that be?”

“Kyle McKenna.”

Kimball’s laugh was almost deafening. “Suddenly she’s the great bastion of truth? Give me a break man.”

My mind flashed back to the Dispatch leak of Marisol’s name and all of Kyle’s negative profiles of cops and her stalking of Marisol’s daughters and I suddenly felt embarrassed that I’d even brought up her name. But the information she’d provided me felt too important to ignore. “Be that as it may, she had someone with an inside track on Brandt and Marisol’s situation who told a much different story.”

“How different?”

“According to this version, Marisol was cleaning the house and accidentally walked in on a phone conversation that the commander was having. Nosey sort that she was, she lingered outside the door and continued listening. Brandt caught her, laid into her a bit, then fired her.” 

“For hanging around outside his office while he was on the phone? Doesn’t that seem a little bit silly to you?”

“Of course it does. But like you said, just because something makes zero sense doesn’t mean it’s untrue.”

“Okay. Suppose it is true. What reason would the commander have to lie about it? And if he is lying, why would his wife, someone who purportedly loved Marisol so much, support it?” 

“Exactly, and now you know why I’m leaving here so unhappy.”

Kimball sighed. “I know it’s in your nature to try and find smoke where other people don’t see it, but in this case you really have to consider the source of your information. This is Kyle McKenna we’re talking about. The only reason she even exists is to screw over every member of this department the first chance she gets. That includes you, Scott. We’re interviewing Bethany Brandt based on some ridiculous theory that Kyle concocted, when the asshole who killed Marisol Alvarez, the asshole who took a shot at me, is still running free out there. Shouldn’t we be putting our resources into him? I mean, does it even matter why Marisol was fired? She’s dead. All that should matter to us is who killed her. And it sure as hell wasn’t Commander Brandt.”

I couldn’t deny the logic of Kimball’s argument, even if I couldn’t completely reconcile it. Perhaps if he had sat in on my little meeting this morning, he would be more sympathetic to my paranoid state.

And I would be the first to admit that I was becoming increasingly paranoid.

That paranoia made me begin to wonder if Kimball was right. Perhaps I needed to keep my sights set on what was in front of me, on what was tangible. The video of Arturo outside the hotel suite with Marisol was tangible. The fact that he ran at the mere mention of our presence was tangible. The shot that he took at Kimball was tangible. Everything else was theory, and unless your name is Sherlock Holmes, theories don’t solve murders.

The drama with Commander Brandt and Marisol was my first good look down the rabbit hole that no doubt awaited me when I accepted Lieutenant Hitchcock’s assignment. It was also my first indication that I wouldn’t find anything good down there, no matter how much positive change I could affect, no matter how noble my intentions were.

There may have been something seriously wrong in the department, but I couldn’t be the one to fix it.

In that instant, I had finally found the guidepost I was looking for, and it came in the form of one word.

No.

That had to be my answer to Hitchcock.

No.

I never knew that such a simple word could have such a powerful effect.

No
.

The weight of a thousand elephants was suddenly lifted from my shoulders.

I’m sorry, Lieutenant Hitchcock, but the answer is no
.

The smile on my face was so broad that it physically hurt.

Find someone else to catch your rogue officers.

No.

And tell the bureaucrat to fuck off while you’re at it.

Between my smile and the heavy hand I put on his knee, Kimball must have thought I’d suddenly lost my mind, or fallen in love with him.

“Something you’re not telling me, partner?”

I gave another firm squeeze for good measure before letting go. “No need to get excited down there, Nathan. It’s just my way of telling you that you’re right about this whole Commander Brandt thing. It’s too easy to look for smoke where there isn’t any. That’s what the Kyle McKenna’s of the world do. You and I catch killers. Arturo Sandoval is our killer. Simple.”

Kimball blew out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “All I can say is thank God I don’t have to get excited down there. That’s when it turns awkward.”

We shared a laugh, and it felt completely normal.

Unfortunately, it would turn out to be the last normal moment wewould share for a very long time
.

CHAPTER 11

I hadn’t even noticed the red and blue flashing lights
until Kimball was in the process of pulling over.

“What the hell is this?” he said with a scowl as he eyed the rear-view mirror.

“I think we’re getting lit up. What did you do now?”

The unmarked Crown Victoria followed as we pulled into a nearby parking lot. “Wrong place, wrong time. Story of my whole damn life.”

I chuckled despite Kimball’s obvious irritation. “Just let me do the talking, okay? I have a way with cops.”

“Shut up.”

I was still laughing as we stepped out of the car. It was certainly strange for a fellow patrol to get our attention this way rather than a call over the two-way, but I didn’t think much of it as we approached the Crown Vic.

That changed when I saw who was behind the wheel.

“Good afternoon, detectives,” a smiling Commander Brandt bellowed as he stepped out of the car.

Kimball and I had seemingly stopped on the exact same dime, both of us at an immediate loss for words.

“Always good to run into the DPD’s finest, especially out here in the sticks,” he mused as he continued his approach.

“Good to see you commander,” Kimball said as he went in for a handshake. I kept a respectful distance.

“You too, Nathan. How’s the cozy homicide life treating you?”

“I have to admit, I do miss the Kevlar sometimes. But the jacket and tie works most days.”

“You wear it well,” Brandt observed before turning his attention to me. “Detective Priest. I don’t think we’ve officially met.” He stuck out his catcher’s mitt of a hand.

“Nice to officially meet,” was all I could manage, and even that was a struggle. 

He nodded and turned back to Kimball. “So my wife says you came out for a visit. Sorry I wasn’t there to greet you. To what did we owe the pleasure?”

Talk about getting right to the point. I let out a nervous breath, thankful that the question hadn’t been directed at me.

Kimball let out an equally nervous breath as he scrambled for a response. “A murder investigation.”

“Marisol Alvarez?”

“That’s right.”

“I heard you had a beat on the potential perp but he slipped away before you could collar him. Is it true he took a shot at you?”

Kimball nodded. “Thankfully he missed.”

“Can you track him?”

“There’s an ABP out now. We have the make and model of his car plus photos. We’ll catch up to him.”

“And God help him when you do,” Brandt said with a wink. “So, back to why you were visiting my wife.”

“Right. Well, it actually has to do with the guy who took a shot at me.”

Brandt didn’t flinch. “Really? And how is that?”

Kimball’s purposeful hesitation prompted me to step in. “The man we’re looking for is named Arturo Sandoval. We have surveillance footage of Mr. Sandoval entering the presidential suite of the Four Seasons with Marisol two hours before her body was discovered there. When we went to his apartment to question him he fled out the back door, taking a shot at Detective Kimball in the process. During our questioning of the apartment manager we discovered a connection between Arturo and Marisol that went beyond their mutual employment at the Four Seasons.”

“Which was?”

“They both worked for you.”

The confusion on his face was less than convincing. “Arturo Sandoval, huh? I can’t say that name rings a bell.”

I wanted to pretend that I hadn’t heard that. Unfortunately, I couldn’t let it go. “The apartment manager had you listed as his last known employer.”

“Bethany has employed a lot of people in a lot of capacities, so I suppose it is possible that he worked for us.”

“Your wife said you provided a reference for him when he got his most recent job at the Four Seasons. Apparently you gave him a glowing recommendation.” The words came out before I could stop them.

“Were those the specific words that Bethany used? Glowing recommendation?”

“It was something to that effect,” a nervous Kimball cut in. “But there wasn’t much to the meeting beyond that. We were mainly interested in tying up any loose ends that may have existed in the connection between Sandoval and the victim. We feel pretty confident now that those loose ends are tied up.”

Brandt kept a skeptical eye on me. “Do you concur with that, Detective Priest?”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Kimball nearly rubbing the skin off his chin. “We won’t know that for sure until we catch him.”

The expression on Brandt’s face suddenly brightened. “Nothing in the world I like better than a thorough cop. I guess the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

The commander’s smile did little to calm my queasy stomach. I probably should have thought twice before challenging him, even if it was the instinctive thing to do. Brandt’s initial reaction indicated that he’d recognized the challenge. His subsequent smile indicated that he was still figuring out how to respond.

The rabbit hole just got a little bit deeper.

“I’d actually been hoping for the chance to talk to you one day.”

I immediately tensed. “Is that right?”

“Your old man was something of a mentor to me. I came up through narcotics when he was heading the unit. I’d call him a hell of a cop, but that wouldn’t do Carl nearly enough justice.”

The smile on my face wasn’t entirely manufactured. “I appreciate that, sir.”

“Sorry to hear about what he’s been going through. How’s he been holding up?”

My smile promptly went away. “Some days are better than others.” 

“That Alzheimer’s is a fucking beast. Bethany’s dad is dealing with it too. Tears you apart to see them suffer that way.”

“Yes it does.”

“It was bad enough what happened to your brother. A lot of us are still reeling over that one.”

Unable to find a suitable word to respond with, I simply nodded.

“Well, your family has experienced more than its share of knocks, but the tide has a way of turning. From what I hear you’re doing them both proud.”

“Trying my best.”

Kimball cleared his throat to break the awkward silence that settled over the three of us. “In my completely biased opinion there isn’t a better detective in the entire department.”

“I’ve heard the exact same thing,” Brandt declared. “No offense to you big guy.”

“None taken.”

“If there’s ever anything I can do for you, Scott, you be sure to let me know. I owe your father a lot. A lot of us old-timers do.”

He smiled again, but the skeptical stare didn’t go away. This was beginning to feel like a test, one that I was destined to fail.

“Again, it was nice to have officially met you, commander,” I answered as I extended my hand. 

Based on Brandt’s limp handshake, I knew I had already failed the test. His eyes brightened as they turned to Kimball. “Nate, always great running into you. If that tie ever starts to feel too tight around your neck, there’s some sturdy Kevlar back at HQ with your name on it.”

Kimball smiled as if a pleasant memory had suddenly washed over him. “I’m sure it fits as snug as ever.”

“Damn right it does. But for now you boys have a job to do and I’m not going to hold you up from doing it. You just make sure –” His ringing cell phone interrupted the thought. “Excuse me while I take this,” he said as he stepped away.

Kimball and I exchanged a glance. I detected something in his eyes that I couldn’t quite interpret. It could have been anxiety, it could have been irritation. It certainly wasn’t good. His cell phone began buzzing before I could ask about it.

He answered on the first ring. “Kimball. You’re kidding. Okay, we’re on our way.” The irritation in his eyes was suddenly gone, replaced with wide-eyed excitement. “Someone called into the snitch-line. We have a beat on Arturo’s location. He’s holed up in a house in the Park Hill area.” 

Brandt cut in before I could respond. “I just got the same call. My unit is suiting up now. Smash and grab.”

Kimball’s smile couldn’t have been any wider. “Just like the old days.”

“I’ll be out in the field myself for this one,” Brandt said with a smile as wide as Kimball’s. “Asshole takes a shot at one of my guys, I have to be there when he goes down.”

For some reason that wasn’t a comforting thought. 

“Works for me,” Kimball said as he punched my arm. I suddenly had a real-life cowboy on my hands. “Let’s go get him.” 

Brandt led the way back to HQ, the sirens in his car blaring. They were barely loud enough to quiet the sirens going off in my head.