“That will depend on what IA says this afternoon,” Hawkeye replied. “But Trainor’s initial meeting with him was favorable and if today’s goes as well, let’s plan on Monday.”
“Why so long?” Scottie asked.
“As I told Harley when I met with her before coming in here, the Medical Examiner will be releasing Reilly’s body by this weekend and she can have the funeral. I thought you’d want to be there for her during that time unless you would rather work?”
“No, sir,” Scottie said. “I appreciate your consideration and giving me the extra days to be with her.”
“She’ll need you. Her not having any other family,” Hawkeye said. “Now if you will excuse me, Officer Dugan, I need to go talk to two others. Union Representative Simpson, I will need you to join me for one of those meetings.”
“Of course,” Mitchell said. “Will I have time to get back here before he meets with Trainor?”
“You will,” Hawkeye assured him. “Scottie, we’ll talk to you later.”
CHAPTER 9
Jett and Rookiehad Clint Rogers in a small conference room on the third floor waiting for Hawkeye. It had taken them almost an hour to get the man out of his tiny apartment and into their SUV because he claimed he was innocent of any wrongdoing and shouldn’t have to be questioned further, even by IA. They finally had to cuff him with their zip ties and drag him out.
“I demand to have my union representative present for any questioning,” Rogers yelled at them. “I’m pressing charges against you both for being manhandled.”
Rookie adjusted his hearing aid down another notch to tune him out further. “He’s on his way. So pipe down.”
Rogers smirked as if he’d won a huge battle as the door opened and Mitchell Simpson and Hawkeye entered followed by Brand.
“What’s this?” Rogers demanded. “You said Internal Affairs wanted to talk to me.”
“No, we didn’t,” Jett said. “We said Internal Affairs preferred we asked you questions at the station. Now sit your ass in that chair.”
Rogers glared at them and sat with his arms crossed, muttering, “First I’m put on administrative leave, brutallydragged down to the station, and now I’m being questioned like I’ve done something wrong.”
“For someone who claims to be innocent you’re acting guilty,” Hawkeye said. “I read McLeod’s statement from where he spoke with you about your part in the altercation on the ice which led to Reilly Flynn’s death.”
“An unfortunate accident,” Rogers snapped.
Hawkeye laid the photo of the man with the tattoo in front of him . “Care to tell me who this is? And don’t say you don’t know. We have video surveillance of you speaking to him before the exhibition game at the arena.”
“Just a guy who came to the door,” Rogers said.
“And you came out of the locker room to talk to him?” Jett said. He pulled up the video footage on his cellphone and played the clip showing Rogers in his uniform leaving the locker room and going to the door to talk to the guy. “It doesn’t look like someone random. It looks like you knew him.”
Rogers held up his hands. “Fine. I knew him.”
“And it looked like you tried to invite him inside, but he wouldn’t come,” Rookie pointed out.
“I did. I thought he’d enjoy the game,” Rogers said. “But he said he wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“Why was that?” Hawkeye asked.
Rogers shrugged. “He didn’t say, but he texted me to talk.”
Simpson pulled a chair around to sit beside Rogers. “As your union representative I’m advising you to be straight with your commander. Tell him what he wants to know. Don’t get yourself jammed up over something trivial.”
“What’s the identity of this guy got to do with what happened on the ice?” Rogers asked. “He wasn’t there. He had nothing to do with the fight.”
“He didn’t, but Flynn didn’t die because of the fight,” Hawkeye said. “He died because someone was feeding him rat poison. Did you know anything about that?”
Rogers looked around the room at each of the men. “You’re shitting me, right?”
“As it stands now Rogers, we could be looking at you for accessory to murder,” Hawkeye said. “You instigated the fight. What’s to say you weren’t working with this man at the door.”
