The Rogue Element (Scott Priest Book 1) by John Hardy Bell

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