Tolerance Book III

Chapter Twenty-One: Regret of Hindsight

"Who is it?" Voights' lethal growl reeked of retribution, one of their own had gone after his man!
"Well .... uh ...," Mouse shifted from one foot to the other uneasily.
"Who?" Jay pressed in a soft voice, a marked contrast to the Sergeants' tone.
"His name is Gregg Miller. He transferred to the 21st last week."
"Just because the guy got into the SUV doesn't mean it's Miller," the Detective cautioned reasonably.
"Either way he has questions to answer," Voight refused to be mollified.
"Do you know where he is now?" Murphy checked.
"Sergeant Platt said he's due back from patrol in thirty minutes."
"Well let's give him a welcoming committee," Voight instructed and gestured towards the door.

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Break Room

Ten minutes later the whole Unit had been brought up to speed. Platt had been asked to assign Miller to desk duty immediately upon his return since he was rostered on for a double shift. The abrasive woman had been briefed by Voight on the latest development and like her counterpart fought to control her anger. If Miller did in fact set out to aid King torment Halstead she promised herself he would pay dearly! The young Detective had been through the wringer too many times and this betrayal was the last thing he needed. Adam and Kevin had been ordered to stay with Jay, over his vehement protests, while Voight and the others initially spoke to Miller.

"Seems a bit careless using his own vehicle," Kevin breached the heavy silence as Jay remained decidedly unhappy with his present location.
"Doubt it was Miller," the pale Detective eventually offered.
"Why not?" Adam paused on pouring hot water into his mug.
"Too amateur for a Cop to use his own vehicle. Besides the guy in the hotel was extremely nervous."
"Maybe he was putting on an act," Kevin suggested thoughtfully.
"Don't think so."
"We'll find out soon enough," Adam put in as he joined his friends at the table.

Interview Room

Thirty-five year old Gregg Miller sat facing the stone faced Sergeant and the moustached Detective wondering what he had done wrong. He was only at the 21st a week and already he was in trouble it seemed. After returning to the precinct he had been cornered by an abrupt Platt who informed him he was assigned to desk duty until further notice. Reeling from the unexpected turn of events he had barely had time to consider the situation when he had been summoned upstairs to the inner sanctum of the revered Intelligence Unit. That raised further questions but it was clear he'd have to wait for answers as none seemed forthcoming. Now waiting for the renowned Voight to speak he felt a kindred pity for Criminals forced to deal with the man. His stare was unnerving to say the least and if Miller had been a guilty man the need to confess would have been strong. As it was he was still trying to grasp his present predicament.

"You own a black SUV," Voight began with a statement, not a question.
"Yes."
"Where were you during the hours of .....," Al began only to be cut off.
"I don't have the SUV at the moment," Miller hastily explained.
"It's registered to you."
"Yes, I own it."
"When did you last drive it?" Al asked.
"About two weeks ago," Miller shrugged as he got a sinking feeling.
"So who has it now?" Voights' voice though quiet held an unmistakable threat, warning the uniformed Officer him not to lie.
"Uh .... my Cousin ha .....,"
"What's his name?"
"Paul Mandell," Miller frowned before feeling the need to explain, "he'd been sick so he needed a vehicle to get to Doctors' appointments and for hospital visits. I got a place close to the precinct so figured walking wouldn't hurt."
"Is he terminally ill?" Al asked after sharing a look with his oldest friend.
"How did you know about that?" Millers' surprise cast aside his trepidation.
"We believe he was at the Golden Eagle Hotel under orders from a deceased Serial Killer," Voight opted to give the brief explanation then continued with steel in his voice, "we need to know where he is now?"
"Doesn't matter," Miller sighed heavily looking at his hands.
"We need to talk to him!"
"You can't. He died...... this morning ....,"
"How?" Al demanded although he could guess.
"Took a bunch of tablets."