The Rogue Element (Scott Priest Book 1) (8 page)

CHAPTER 12

By the time we arrived at the remote briefing
location three blocks from the house that Sandoval had barricaded himself in, SWAT was already prepping to move in. The six-man, fully armored team stood in a tight circle as one of them ran down the specifics of the operation.

“Remember, this guy took a shot at a detective without a second’s hesitation, so stay on your toes when you get in there. Expect the suspect to be armed and ready to move on you. We go in there swarming, but we also stay sharp and mind our targets. Understood?”

The other five nodded as they adjusted helmets, tightened their Kevlar vests, and inspected their assault rifles. These were the certified bad-asses of the DPD and the rep was well-deserved, as evidenced by the proud-papa grin on Brandt’s face as he approached the group.

“Officer Renner. From the look of things the ship is as tight as ever.”

The leader walked up to Brandt. “Hey Commander. We’re set to go if you are.” He gave Kimball and me the once-over before greeting us with a nod. We had both traded in our suit jackets for bulletproof vests.

“I think you gentlemen know Detective Kimball, the traitor, I mean ex-SWAT standout.”

A friendly chuckle from the group.

“Thanks for covering us, boys,” Kimball said with a light smile. “In case you didn’t know, I’m the detective our friend Sandoval pointed the .357 at, so I’m extra motivated to make this collar.”

“We got your back anytime, Kimmy,” the leader declared. “Even though you deserted—I mean moved on to greater opportunities in homicide.”

More laughter. This was starting to feel like a frat party that I wasn’t invited to.

Brandt looked at me. “And this here is Kimball’s partner, Detective Scott Priest. Even if you don’t know Scott, I’m sure you’re all familiar with the Priest name, legendary as it is.”

I wasn’t met with nearly the same enthusiasm as Kimball, but I’ve never been one for parades in my honor.

Brandt continued. “So what does your intel say about the location?”

“Even though the curtains over the windows have limited our visibility, there hasn’t appeared to be much movement,” Officer Renner said. “But we do have confirmation that the suspect is inside, along with an unidentified female Caucasian.”

“Entry?”

“Standard double-lock wooden door. No storm screen. Should be easy enough.”

“Do we dare knock first?” Kimball asked sarcastically.

“Apparently that didn’t work so well last time,” Renner answered with a half-grin.

“Okay men, let’s get ready to move,” Brandt finally told the group. “Remember, in addition to shooting at Detective Kimball, Sandoval is wanted in connection to the murder of Marisol Alvarez. Ms. Alvarez was a hardworking, single mother of two teenage girls. She didn’t deserve to die the way she did. Let’s do what we need to do.”

Even though I seriously doubted the sincerity of Brandt’s words, I couldn’t disagree with the sentiment behind them.  I was eager to keep my promise to Marisol’s daughters, and the sooner I got my hands on Arturo, the sooner that promise would be fulfilled.

The look in Kimball’s eyes told me just how eager he was too, but I suspected his motives were very different from mine.

“Ready to do this?” he asked as he tightened the shoulder strap of his armored vest.

I took a deep breath before answering. “Nobody in the world I’d rather roll with.”

CHAPTER 13

The six bad-asses walked up to the house
single-file, their footfalls so light it was as if they weren’t touching the ground. The element of surprise was rule number one of the tactical-entry handbook. From the look of things, Arturo Sandoval was in for one nasty surprise.

Officer Renner held point at the front door while the hammer-man flanked off to the left, battering-ram at the ready. Kimball, Brandt and I brought up the rear, Glocks drawn. We knew it probably wasn’t necessary given the heavy artillery between us and Arturo, but SWAT runs presented some of the most unstable scenarios that a cop could ever face. That’s why they were handled by SWAT.

Renner looked around to survey the readiness of his group. Silent nods confirmed their readiness. Renner then looked at the hammer-man and flashed the OK sign.

In an instant, the silence of a calm afternoon was shattered by the sound of splintered wood and the pop of flash grenades. The team entered the house in the same orderly fashion in which they’d approached the house, this time with the full intention of making their presence known.

“Denver police!”

“Search warrant!”

“Hands up! Get on the ground!”

The raised voices barking demands seemed to meld into a swarm of angry white noise. Shock and awe at its finest.

Once the last member of the team cleared the doorway, we made our way up the front porch. The scrambling inside continued. Glass broken. Furniture toppled. Doors kicked in. Before I could enter the doorway, Kimball brushed past me with his Glock extended.

A man on a mission.

He sprinted into the sparsely furnished living room and around a corner before I could urge him to slow down.

“Damn it, Nate! They haven’t cleared the room yet!”

I looked back at Brandt, wondering exactly why he was there. Based on the unsettled look in his eyes, I’d guessed he was wondering the same thing. Figureheads had no business in the field, and no matter how many stripes he could sew onto his sleeve, Oliver Brandt was a figurehead. 

I turned away from the commander without a word and ambled toward the corner of the house where I last saw Kimball. Heavy footsteps from above shook the ceiling as the chorus of shouting continued.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

Just as I’d rounded the corner to the kitchen where I’d assumed Kimball was, he blew past me on his way up the stairs. “Goddamn it Nate! They’re covering it!”

He didn’t reply, choosing instead to let his adrenaline carry him up the stairs two at a time. When he reached the top of the staircase, he muttered something that sounded like “I know he’s here.” Then he tore off into a room that Renner and another officer had just entered.

I heard the woman scream as my foot hit the first step. Before I could hit the second, I heard the gunshot. A single 9mm pop. The bad-asses were carrying assault rifles, so the pop couldn’t have come from them. Two more. If Arturo had taken the shot, the return fire would have been deafening.

Instead, a sudden swell of quiet hung in the air, broken only by the sound of Renner’s breathless voice. “Suspect down!”

I promptly stopped. Based on the scenario I was now positive had just played out, I would have done better to turn around, walk back down the stairs and out of the house, but I had to see the sudden disintegration of the Alvarez case with my own eyes.

It was as bad as I thought it would be.

Kimball and Renner stood on either side of Arturo’s limp body as the other SWAT officers surrounded the screaming woman.

Renner pulled an officer aside. “Radio it in. Suspect, Arturo Sandoval, is down. Unidentified Caucasian female in custody.”

“Yes sir,” the officer replied before patching into his shouldered two-way. 

Renner then turned his attention to a motionless Kimball. “You okay?”

“It happened so fast.”

“You did the only thing you could do under the circumstances.”

Kimball was silent as he re-holstered his weapon.

“You feel confident about that, right?” Renner asked. “That there was nothing else you could have done.”

When Kimball turned around to see me staring at him, his faltering face suddenly stiffened. “Absolutely. He was trying to jump out the goddamn window.”

“Not to mention the fact that he drew on you,” Renner added for good measure.

I looked at the area surrounding Arturo’s body. I only saw blood. “Where’s the piece?”

Officer Renner turned to me like my presence suddenly bothered him. “What?”

“Where is the piece?” I repeated, making sure to annunciate each syllable as clearly as I could.

There was a brief glance between Kimball and Renner before the officer answered. “It went flying out the window after the suspect was hit with the first shot.”

“Is that how it happened, Nate?”

Kimball looked at Arturo, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s how it happened.”

I’d never wanted to believe something more in my entire life. The benefit of the doubt that was a natural byproduct of our friendship should have been enough to ensure that belief. Right now it wasn’t.

“Don’t you think we should send someone down there to get it?”

“It’s already handled,” Brandt declared as he entered the room. A Glock 19 dangled loosely from his gloved finger. “Found it on the side of the house directly under the window.”  

How convenient for everyone involved. “You sure that’s the gun, Nate?”

“What are the odds that we find a random gun in the exact spot where his would have landed?”

I ignored the commander’s comment. “Nate?”

“Damn sure looks like it.”

The definitiveness of his statement was undercut by the doubt in his voice.

Brandt gave the gun to one of the SWAT officers. “Bag it for ballistics. I’m sure we’ll get our official confirmation there. Personally speaking, Nathan’s word is all the confirmation I need.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Renner said.

After an extended moment of silence, Kimball looked at me. “What about you, Scott?”

“What about me, Nate?”

“Are you good with what happened here?”

“Are you?”

“Yes I am.”

“You’re good with the fact that we may never close this case because our prime suspect is dead?” 

“I’m good with the fact that none of
us
are dead,” he snapped back.

“Both of you calm down,” Brandt demanded. “This guy pulled out a gun on an officer twice in one day. Innocent people rarely do that. Combine that with the surveillance footage and the sudden availability of his DNA for a comparison, and I’d say your case is still pretty damn solid.”

I could only shake my head as I walked out of the room. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kimball following. I didn’t turn to acknowledge him, even as he began speaking.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Scott? This son of a bitch tried to take me out, twice. I’m sorry if you’re upset that he won’t have his day in court, but right now I couldn’t give two shits about that. As far as I’m concerned, he got exactly what he deserved. It’s not like I woke up this morning with the intention of pulling my gun out on anyone, and I’m sure as hell not happy that I had to use it, but he forced my hand. If I hadn’t done what I did, you might have been reading my obituary a week from now instead of his. Do you get that?”

“I get that it’s entirely too convenient for Commander Brandt to have found that gun so quickly when, as far as I could tell, he hadn’t even been up here to see what happened.”

When Kimball invaded my personal space for the second time today, I didn’t nudge him away as I had done the first time.

“What exactly are you trying to say?” His stare didn’t waver.

Neither did mine. “I didn’t think there was anything ambiguous about it.”

“Hey, you guys need to cool it,” I suddenly heard Renner say. “Clean-up is en route and they’ll be bringing a million questions with them. We need to make sure we’re giving them consistent answers. Is consistency going to be a problem for anyone?”

I turned around to see Renner and his army of bad-asses staring at Kimball and me.

“I don’t see why it would be,” Brandt said as he emerged from behind the group.

Kimball backed out of my space, finally allowing the two of us to breathe. “Neither do I.” When he looked at me again, the aggression in his eyes was gone. “You know me better than anyone else, Scott, and you know my word means something. I didn’t have a choice.”

For a moment, all the doubt and paranoia went away. For a moment, I only saw my friend – the man whose hands I would most trust my life to be in. In that moment, I had no choice but to nod my head and say “okay.”

As the group made its way outside where patrol and CSI units were already gathering, one of the SWAT guys led Arturo’s girlfriend to a waiting female officer. The woman was physically and emotionally ravaged, as I suspected she would be. The SWAT officer handed her off with instructions to conduct a thorough body search before the reading of her Miranda’s.

As the uniform turned her around to execute the pat down, the woman’s eyes unexpectedly met mine. They were so swollen from crying I was surprised she could see through them, but it was obvious that she could see me just fine.

“Any needles or other sharp objects?” the officer asked the woman before she stuck her hand in the deep pockets of her soiled overalls.

She didn’t reply, choosing instead to keep her focus on me.

“Ma’am? I need to know if you’re carrying anything that’s gonna stick me.”

The woman’s response was directed at me, and it was one I wasn’t the least bit prepared for.

“Don’t believe what they tell you, detective. Not a damn word of it.”