Ty Solomon (shadowbadge) wrote in shadows_rpg, @ 2017-09-19 20:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | #september 2017, grady, grady x ty, ty |
Who: Grady and Ty (and Peter Rogan)
When: Sept 3, early morning, around 4am
Where: The police station
Warning: blood
Status: Complete
Peter Rogan’s voice was beginning to feel like screws being drilled directly into Grady’s skull. They had arrested him forty three minutes earlier for the attempted murder of his wife, and he had not stopped talking, or yelling, since Grady and Ty had shoved him into the back of the police car. The man was covered in blood, bits of it drying in his hair and the tips of his ears. His hands were cuffed still as he sat at the small table in the interrogation room. Grady had interrupted Peter a few times already, offering him a phone call, asking him if he wanted his attorney. These questions only agitated the man, and he declined again and again until he was slamming his fists on the table, his cuffs clanking loudly together.
Grady and Ty had been trying to talk to Peter for thirty minutes now as Grady waited on word from Mercy about Mrs. Rogan’s condition. Grady knew Margaret Rogan, as he did most of the people in Point Pleasant. She was a kind woman, somewhere in her forties, who worked at the deli at Hobb’s Grocery. She always gave him a little extra roast beef for no charge when he came by. As far as Grady knew, they had never had a call about the Rogans, violent or otherwise. In fact, the couple always seemed happy enough when Grady saw them out in public. Obviously he knew that what you saw on the surface wasn’t always a true depiction of a person, or a couple, but he was having a difficult time reconciling that couple to what he had seen tonight.
“It was… a, a man,” Peter choked out, his thin face red. There was snot covered his upper lip, dribble from his screams dripping from his chin. Grady had gotten Peter some water and tissues, but they both remained untouched. “Not a man!” he screamed, as if hadn’t just told him it had been a man. “It was a tall… thing. A shadow. It was slicing her open. I swear.” He sobbed again and reached his hands out toward Ty. “You know. You know! This shit happens here. I wanted to move for years! We fought about it for years. Christ! You believe me, man! Come on, please believe me.”
Ty was standing near the door, watching this whole scene with as stony a face as he could muster. It was ass o’clock in the morning, he was tired as hell, and this whole incident was pretty horrible. He hadn’t seen the extent of Mrs. Rogan’s injuries, just that there had been blood everywhere. It was drying brown and rusty on Mr. Rogan now, and the sight of it combined with the man insisting his innocence was starting to make Ty sick to his stomach. He already had a massive headache, and all the hysterics weren’t helping.
Peter’s appeal was met with wariness, and Ty glanced toward Grady, trying to read his boss’s expression. Even after almost ten years living in Point Pleasant, he still felt like a weirded out stranger there sometimes. “A shadow sliced her open,” Ty repeated, his disbelief dripping from every word. Yeah, sometimes strange things happened, but this was just ... unbelievable.
"That's what I said," Peter exclaimed, his eyes wide as he looked at Ty and then Grady. "It was... it had to have been a man, I guess. But it was dark... it looked like... a shadow..." Peter trailed off, as if it was finally sinking in how insane his story sounded. He blinked rapidly, glancing back and forth between the two cops. Grady sighed and sat down at the table across from Peter. He scratched his jaw idly, wishing Rose were there to make some coffee. Not that Ty or Grady couldn't make it themselves, but her coffee always tasted better for some reason.
"Can you tell us what happened before you found your wife?" Grady didn't sound as though he believed Peter, but he didn't skeptical as Ty had. He just wanted Peter to calm down so Grady could get some coherent information. Peter licked his lips and sniffed loudly before lifting his arm to wipe his face the best he could with the cuffs. Then he began to describe the evening to Grady and Ty.
He and Margaret had dinner - steak and green beans - they watched the news. Margaret knitted for a bit, then went up to bed, about nine thirty. Peter fell asleep in his recliner. He didn't wake up again until he heard Margaret screaming in their bedroom. It was two forty three.
"I ran upstairs," Peter explained, his tone strained, bordering on panic again. "I ran into the bedroom... she was on the floor, blood was everywhere. The sha...the man... I don't know who it was... they were hovering over her. It... he looked at me, and I screamed and then they were gone." Peter buried his face in his hands before jerking them away as he realized there was still blood caked on them. "I didn't think. I just went to her. I tried to stop the bleeding. I called you guys... why would I call the police if I did this?"
"Because you look guilty if you don't call the police," Grady pointed out simply as he leaned back in his chair. "You and your wife hadn't been fighting? No marital problems to speak of?"
Peter shook his head. "No. I mean... nothing... every marriage has marital problems." He snorted, the sound a stark contrast from his earlier, emotional sobs. Grady's gaze shifted briefly to Ty.
Ty’s lips pursed a tiny bit more, but he didn’t otherwise react. He was sure Grady heard the same thing he did, something that slipped through the hysteria and told them more than Rogan’s words probably were. His dark gaze stayed on Mr. Rogan’s face. “Not every marriage ends in a stabbing,” he said, quiet but pointed. He straightened up a bit and cleared his throat. “Can you elaborate on these problems, Mr. Rogan? Or should we wait and ask Margaret when she comes around?” He wasn’t even sure if she was still alive, as far as he knew Grady hadn’t heard back from the hospital yet. If she did die, Mr. Rogan was in an even bigger heap of trouble. No jury was going to buy that some shadow man had killed his wife and not him.
Peter glared at Ty. Grady could see the man's jaw clench and twitch, as if biting back something harsh or offensive. Then his gaze shifted back to Grady and he settled back in his chair, quite casually, as though he held all the cards in this exchange, despite the fact that he was the one in handcuffs. The shift in his behavior was abrupt, and quite telling, in Grady's opinion. But he said nothing as he and Peter stared at one another.
Finally, Peter lifted his bloody chin, quite stubbornly. "I think I need to call my lawyer." He sniffed again, the snot shooting back up his nostrils. Grady studied Peter for another silent moment before he stood up and slipped the chair back into place beneath the table. "Deputy, can you take Mr. Rogan back to his cell and I'll give Mr. Martin a call." He would place another call to Mercy, just for a quick follow up on Margaret Rogan. "I'll meet you out front once he's secure."
There was nothing in Peter Rogan’s stare that intimidated Ty, whether he’d actually tried to kill his wife or not. Ty detested men like that, men who hurt women. He unfortunately ran into a lot of them because of the job, but it always gave him great satisfaction to slap handcuffs on them and toss them in a cell. “Yes sir,” he said to Grady, able to keep the relish out of his voice, but just barely. He could stay a professional. Ty advanced on Peter Rogan and hooked a hand into his armpit to ‘help’ him up, then started to escort the man out of the interrogation room and back toward the holding cells.
While Ty took care of Mr. Rogan, Grady put in a call to John Martin, Rogan's attorney. It was going to be a while before he would get to go home, so Grady sent a quick text to Hunter's cell, assuming his son was asleep, but would eventually get the message. With Martin on his way in to talk to Peter, Grady started a pot of coffee, his mind racing over what he and Ty had walked into. They had quarantined the house, and he had put in a call to the State police as soon as he'd had Peter in the car. It was no secret that Point Pleasant was horribly short staffed. But Grady had done what he could conserving the evidence. He hadn't seen a weapon. Broken furniture, yes. Blood, yes. A knife? Anything that could have been used as one? No.
Knowing what he knew about this town, Grady supposed there was a teeny, tiny, slim possibility.... but no. This seemed to be an open and shut case of domestic violence. Occam's razor. The simplest answer is usually the correct answer. Usually. With the coffee brewing, the phone rang. Grady reached for it quickly, and he was speaking to a doctor at Mercy when Ty came into view. He caught Ty's gaze and nodded lightly, looking relieved. When he hung up the phone, Grady ran a hand through his hair. "Mrs. Rogan is alive. She's sedated, but we'll be able to head over and talk to her in a few hours. Rogan give you any trouble?"
“He’s not my biggest fan right now, but I’m not worried about it,” Ty said with a dark chuckle. “He was fine.” Besides glaring at Ty like he wanted his head to explode, and muttering about how they were going to be sorry for handling this the way they had. Those weren’t the mutterings of an innocent man, to Ty’s ears. At least not a completely innocent one. Ty pulled a chair in closer to where Grady was and slumped into it, rubbing a hand over the short stubble on his head. “That’s good news though. Maybe she can clear this up for us. Got an ETA from the Staties yet?” He wasn’t thrilled to hand the case over to the state police, but Ty trusted Grady’s judgement on it.
"They said a few hours. So I'm going to guess we've got until at least ten o'clock. I'm hoping we can talk to Mrs. Rogan before they do." Grady had long since learned that when the State Police decided to take over, they didn't half ass it. They shut Grady and the department out of everything. They especially seemed to enjoy the 'bizarre' cases. The ones they could snicker over, like this one, especially if Peter Rogan told the Staties what he had told Grady and Ty. With any luck, his lawyer would convince him to clam up. Grady wasn't thrilled about calling, but he knew when they were overmatched, and this was one of those times. It seemed pretty cut and dry, sure, but Grady knew that it wasn't. "It's almost always the spouse," Grady murmured. "And even if they've got a clear cut alibi, most people think they're lying and still guilty." At least Margaret Rogan was alive. Once she was awake and coherent, she would be able to clear this up. Hopefully. Sometimes these situations left them with more questions than answers. He turned back to Ty, his hands resting loosely on his waist now. "What do you think happened?"
The state cops could be raging assholes to the locals, but Ty knew they were at least thorough. They had forensics resources that Point Pleasant couldn’t dream of affording. He was glad that Mrs. Rogan hadn’t died, besides the obvious reason, so maybe the investigation wouldn’t drag on for ages. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave a thoughtful sigh, not answering right away. Grady would want a measured answer from him. “It’s Saturday night, Rogan is a bit too deep in his cup,” he said, running through the most likely scenario in his mind. “Some of those marital issues come up. He loses his temper, attacks his wife ... stops before he’s killed her, thankfully. Sees what he’s done, stashes the weapon somewhere, calls the cops ...” Ty trailed off and shrugged. He didn’t believe any bullshit about a shadow man. This town could make him uneasy sometimes, but he’d never seen anything impossible like that. “We’ve seen it before. It’s usually punching instead of stabbing, but he could’ve grabbed for something.”
"Rogan didn't smell like alcohol," Grady pointed out, although they both knew that didn't mean much. Men didn't need to be drinking to beat on their wives. And Ty's explanation was simple and straightforward. He was wondering if the State police would come in and come to the same conclusion. It was possible the PPPD would retain control over the case. Rogan would be charged with attempted murder and they'd let the court system work it out. Still, something about the crime scene, and Rogan's behavior, nagged in the back of Grady's mind, and it made him uncomfortable. He felt the urge to go back to the Rogan house and look around some more, while he still had time. "You think you can handle things here for an hour?" Grady asked Ty as he reached out for his coat that he'd slung on the back of Rose's chair when they arrived. "I want to take a look around the bedroom before the staties get here."
There were other things than alcohol that brought out the violence in people, Ty knew, so he just shrugged. Maybe Rogan was on drugs, maybe he was just a raging asshole, maybe he’d had a mental break or something. Ty was already interested in seeing the tox screening that the Staties would surely do. He arched a brow at Grady as his boss put his jacket back on and started to get up. “‘Course,” he answered easily enough. He’d been hoping for home and a nap, but Ty would buck up and deal with it. It was going to be one hell of a long day, he already knew that, considering all this and the upcoming parade. “Give me a shout if you need anything.”
"I won't be long," Grady promised, because he knew Ty must be exhausted, and he didn't want to keep him longer than necessary. Grady didn't think it would be a problem to call in a reserve just to give Ty the rest of the day off to regroup. But they would have the hospital to deal with, Rogan's attorney and the State police coming up. He was getting a headache just thinking about it. Grady slipped on his coat and motioned toward the coffee. "It's not going to be as good as Rose's, but it'll be tolerable." He paused and then grimaced before glancing at Ty. "Think you could get Mr. Rogan to piss in a cup before the Staties get here?" Not the most fun job, but it had to be done...
Ty let out a groan that was only half a joke, then flashed Grady a tired grin. “You got it, boss,” he said. Rogan wouldn’t be thrilled about it either, but Ty was sure he could get him to cooperate somehow. After all, he had nothing to try to cover up, right? Ty didn’t really envy Grady’s side of it either -- dealing with the state police was its own special kind of pain in the ass. Since Grady had reminded him of the presence of coffee, Ty stood up to go pour himself a cup. He was going to need it.