“Yes, Mr. Rogan,” Banner said. “We’re with Houston PD. The San Antonio officers are assisting us this morning.”
So they’d planned to arrest him from the beginning. They wouldn’t have brought the officers if this wasn’t the endgame.
“I’m armed,” Sean said. “I have a concealed carry permit in my wallet.”
“Thank you for that,” Banner said. “Are you carrying anything besides a handgun?”
“A knife in my right front pocket.”
He hated this. Everything about this. It was bullshit. He considered resisting, but that wouldn’t do him any good, and could get him shot.
You should have driven by when you saw the cop cars. You’ve turned soft, Rogan.
The SAPD officer repeated, “Turn around and kneel, put your hands on the top of your head.”
Sean didn’t like that his partner had his hand on his holstered gun. Did they think he was going to run? Fight? Shoot?
He said to Banner, “If you just tell me what’s going on, I can come down on my own with my lawyer.”
“That won’t be possible.”
“Why the hell not?” Sean snapped, hating that he was letting his fear take over. “You know my wife is a federal agent. My sister-in-law is a fed. You must know I have government contracts, security clearance. You can ask me to come in and talk and I’ll be there.”
“I did.”
“I mean on my own, with my lawyer.”
“Too late.”
“You didn’t give me the fucking choice!”
“Are you going to make this difficult, Mr. Rogan? Do I need to add resisting arrest?”
“I’m not resisting, I’m talking.”
“You’re a flight risk, Mr. Rogan,” Banner said. “I’m sorry it came to this, but I have no choice. I’m only going to ask you one more time. Turn around, put your hands on your head, and kneel.”
He could bolt into his garage, the house. Lock the door. It was steel-reinforced. His security was the best. He could go to the panic room he’d recently put in and wait this out until he figured out what was going on.
But that would make him look guilty.
So he complied, resisting an overwhelming urge to run. His entire body tensed; he would not do well behind bars. He already felt like a caged animal and the cuffs weren’t even on his wrists.
Then two of the SAPD officers approached him. One searched him and removed his gun, handed it to his partner, who unloaded it and handed it to Mendez. She put it in an evidence bag. The officer found his knife that he kept in his pocket and also handed that to his partner.
“Do you always arm yourself to take your kid to school?” the cop said.
Sean couldn’t let him bait him. This cop was nobody, and Sean wasn’t going to say a word until he knew exactly what was going on and why these cops thought he killed Mona Hill. He’d already said too much, arguing with Banner.
His left wrist was cuffed, pulled behind his back, and then his right arm was brought down.
“Relax, Mr. Rogan,” the officer said.
He tried. He couldn’t. He valued his freedom more than anything. He’d spent a few days in jail before, he could not—would not—spend the weekend behind bars.
“Come on now,” the officer said, pulling his arm tighter than necessary.
“Mr. Rogan,” Banner said, “you’re drawing attention from your neighbors.”
Sean’s face heated. He didn’t look around. He wasn’t resisting, but he couldn’t force his body to relax. He winced as the cop jerked his arm up and back and clicked on the handcuffs.
Murder. They’re arresting you for murder.
You didn’t kill Mona Hill.
Why do they think you killed her?
They wouldn’t arrest him solely on the word of an eyewitness—there had to be evidence. Question him, sure—but they wouldn’t arrest him. What did they have? Why did they believe he killed her? Anything they had would be circumstantial. He was in her condo. He couldn’t tell anyone, especially the cops, why he was there. Not until he talked to a lawyer.
Unfortunately, he hadn’t told Lucy. There were two reasons he hadn’t told her, not the least of which was because Lucy didn’t like Mona. Neither did Sean, but they had an understanding, and in this particular situation they had a common enemy.
You should have told Lucy.
He had a very, very bad feeling that this was all a setup.
You are screwed, Rogan.
Banner said, “Can we take a look in your car?”
He glanced over his shoulder and looked Banner in the eye. “Do you have a warrant?”
He took their silence as a no.
“We’ll get a warrant; you can just make this easier.”