Page 42 of Forged By Fire

Clint was in the room with them, his ankle crossed over his left knee, doing his best to look interested but not in a hurry. They needed King to know that they expected answers, but their case didn’t revolve around him.

“I’m going to ask you again, why was there a scanner in the janitorial closet, and why were the only fingerprints on it yours?” Paris sat in a chair opposite the table from King and leveled him with a look that would’ve made most suspects uneasy.

King stared right back. “And like I already told you, I found it sitting in the hallway. I didn’t want someone to trip over it, so I put it in the closet to get it out of the way. I had no way of knowing whether it had any fingerprints on it.” His gaze was steady. Unnaturally so.

“Had you ever seen anyone else use a scanner like that in the building?”

“No.”

Clint leaned forward slightly. “Why were you at the back of the warehouse so near the fire? You should have evacuated the building when the alarm sounded, like everyone else.”

King’s gaze flicked to him with the same level of non-emotion. “I wanted to make sure everyone else had gotten out. It’s my job to keep the employees safe, with or without a fire.”

Before bringing him in for questioning, Clint had reached out to Chief Menendez at Fire Station Two and asked about King’s condition when the firefighters had located him. They said he seemed confused and panicked—far cry from how he was acting now. Either the guy crumbled under real emergencies like the fire, or he was a good actor. Was he actingnow, or was his real performance back in the warehouse?

They knew he wasn’t the actual shooter. Keyes and Cho had gotten him out of the warehouse before Danny had become a target. But the further they got into this investigation, the more Clint was convinced the shooter—whoever he was—hadn’t been acting alone.

Paris must’ve been thinking along the same lines. “Did you get turned around in the warehouse?”

“Yes, between the smoke and the electricity being turned off, it was easy to get confused.”

“Did you see anyone else while you were clearing the building?”

“No one. It seemed everyone else had gotten out already. Which is a good thing.” For the first time since he’d come in for questioning, the corners of King’s mouth lifted up in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m thankful none of my co-workers were hurt in thefire.”

“As are we, I assure you.” Paris stood. “Unfortunately, there’s still a firefighter who’s fighting for his life right now. A man who was originally in there looking for you.”

Again, no physical or obvious emotional reaction.

“I hope he makes a full recovery.”

Clint doubted the guy cared one bit about Danny or anyone else. He suspected that, if King had really been in danger from the fire inside the warehouse, he would’ve been one of the first to leave, regardless of whether his co-workers had gotten out yet or not.

Paris stood, and Clint followed suit.

“Thank you for coming in. You are free to go. I’ll have Officer Carrington give you a ride back home. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”

King stood and nodded. “Whatever I can do to help.”

Clint followed Paris out of the room and back to the conference room, where he closed the door behind them.

Paris sat on the edge of the table. “What’s your take?”

“I don’t believe a word he says.” Clint jabbed his hands into his pants pockets. “It all sounded rehearsed. Like he was repeating something he’d read or thought through a million times, with no emotion behind it.”

“I agree. We know he wasn’t the shooter, but I’m willing to bet he knows who is. Whether King’s covering for someone else or just trying to keep from getting caught himself, it’s hard to know. I’m going to have someone follow him and watch his place. Let’s see if anyone tries to get in touch with him. In the meantime, check in with Logan. See if those financials have come in yet.”

“I’m on it.”

Clint walked through the bullpen and down the hall to where Logan’s office was. The man’s desk was a technological marvel with multiple landscape monitors mounted onthe wall above it. There was something different pulled up on each one.

Logan sat in a black and red desk chair that looked more like something a gamer would use.

The moment Clint entered through the open door, Logan looked up.

“You’re here about…”

“Christopher King’s financials.”

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