The Rogue Element (Scott Priest Book 1) Read Free

need something.”
    “Okay, twenty-four hours. That means we would reconvene here tomorrow morning at,” he glanced at his watch, “Seven forty-five.”
    The room fell into silence. Hitchcock and Fitzgerald were clearly waiting for my reply, but I didn’t have one to offer them. As much as I tried to make sense of what they were telling me, the fact of the matter was that it made no sense.
    There was a definitive protocol to follow when it came to internal police investigations, and what Hitchcock and Fitzgerald were asking me to do violated every conceivable aspect of that protocol. It also bothered me that neither of them could come up with a convincing answer as to why I was the one chosen to do this, whatever this was.
    Hitchcock may have trusted me, but there were dozens of trustworthy men and women in the department. As far as I was concerned, nothing I’d accomplished in my two years as a homicide detective stood out as being head and shoulders above anyone else. There were no official commendations, no merit or leadership awards. I’ve never considered myself to be anything more than an average hardworking, hard-nosed cop who did his best to uphold the Priest lineage of hardworking, hard-nosed cops.
    I tried to imagine my father sitting in this seat having this conversation. It wouldn’t have lasted longer than two minutes before Carl Priest either stormed out of Hitchcock’s office on his own or was led out in handcuffs. Either way, he wouldn’t have even entertained this nonsense, let alone taken part in it. The fact that I was still sitting here only confirmed something I’d known since I joined the academy nine years ago: I wasn’t made of nearly the same stuff as my father.
    “I guess I shouldn’t bother to ask the obligatory ‘what’s in it for me’ question,” I said to no one in particular.
    Fitzgerald responded. “You shouldn’t, because the answer right now would be nothing.”
    Hitchcock shot him a fiery look. “You’d have the gratitude of a lot of very important people, not the least of which are the citizens of this city,” the lieutenant replied, apparently feeling the need to atone for Fitzgerald’s blatant rudeness.
    “In all honesty, you’re the only person in charge whose gratitude actually means anything.” 
    If the lieutenant was touched by the sentiment, he didn’t show it. “I need you to keep something in mind over these next twenty-four hours, Scott. And I can’t stress the importance of this enough.”
    “I’m listening.”
    “This decision is yours to make and yours alone. You’re not to discuss the details of this meeting with anyone, and that includes Detective Kimball. Is that understood?”
    “I walked right by his desk on my way in here, so he probably knows I’ve been meeting with you. What am I supposed to tell him if he asks?”
    “Make up something.”
    “That’ll be easier said than done. We should have been at the Alvarez crime scene half an hour ago. He’ll have questions.”
    “You mean Marisol Alvarez, the hotel maid?” Fitzgerald asked.
    I turned to him with mild surprise. “How do you know about it?”
    “Her name was leaked on the Mile High Dispatch website late last night.”
    I pounded a hard fist against the arm of the chair. “Damn it.” 
    “Why don’t you take a breath and give me a status update on the investigation,” Hitchcock said.
    I blew out a loud sigh in an effort to dial back my frustration about the leak. “Nine hours in and there hasn’t been much movement. Kimball and I are heading back to the Four Seasons this morning to speak with more staff and guests. The hotel has been on near lockdown since early this morning and forensics is dusting every square inch of the place. We haven’t been able to speak to the victim’s family yet. Guess those assholes at the Dispatch decided to do it for us. Will somebody please shut them down already?”
    Hitchcock wasn’t moved by my plea. “Do you need to be