Page 25 of Born Daddy

Chapter Seven

After leaving Tate’s apartment and driving back home, Rogan changed out of his work clothes then opted for a pair of well-worn jeans and a T-shirt. He was a simple guy, so tended to avoid plaids and stripes and other designs, preferring solid colors overall.

During football season, he, Lenny and Mitch would get together on Monday nights, but currently, everything revolved around when the Red Sox were playing. It was his turn to host, so he’d already made sure to stock up the fridge with beer and cold cuts.

Rogan checked the time on the coffeemaker clock and noted that his buddies still wouldn’t arrive for another thirty or so minutes. He brushed his forefinger across his bottom lip, still struggling with what had been plaguing his thoughts during the almost thirty-minute drive home.

With a sigh, he scooped up his cell from the kitchen counter and thumbed through his contacts until he found Dan’s direct line. It might be too late to catch him at the station, and Rogan was sure he wouldn’t appreciate him sticking his nose in where it didn’t belong, but Rogan couldn’t stand it. Tate had been so upset.

“Surprised to hear from you again so soon.” Dan chuckled as he answered. “I hope this means you’ve got some intel on the kid for me.”

Rogan clenched his jaw before he could blurt out something friendship-ending. He sucked in a deep breath through his nostrils.

“No intel. But I do have a question regarding him.”

Dan sighed. “Look, buddy. You know I can’t give you any more info on the case now that I know you two are interacting.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask about. He told me he came into the station today and you brushed him off. Couldn’t you see how upset he was? He’s terrified that more sickos are going to come after him because he’s still being labeled as a person of interest.”

A few moments passed before Dan answered. “It was a set-up.”

Rogan’s gut clenched and he sat hard on one of the chairs in his breakfast nook. “That guy in the coffeeshop. He was undercover?”

Dan snorted. “Come on. Don’t act so fucking shocked. How many times have you done something similar? Get real.”

Rogan hunched in on himself as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. He rubbed his forehead with one hand, clutching the phone to his ear with the other as random scenarios from over the course of his career flitted through his mind.

Yeah. Very similar.

“But that proves it then, right?”

Rogan ached to get Tate out from under the ongoing cloud of suspicion. Then maybe he’d have a chance to heal.

“It proves nothing, Rogan. He’s a smart kid. He probably saw through the whole thing and staged his little meltdown here at the station for dramatic effect.”

A sliver of dread coursed through Rogan. He wondered if Tate would ever be free from the ugly specter of what Cam had done. If he could help it, Rogan determined he’d do whatever he could to erase the doubt from the minds of the detectives.

Rogan fell back in his chair. At that exact second, he became one with the knowledge that he believed Tate. Truly believed him.

“Consider all sides, Dan. That’s all I’m asking.”

“We have been, all right? Don’t tell me how to do my job, I’ve never told you how to do yours. And maybe you should consider all sides as well. Maybe you have more than a passing interest in him.”

This time when Rogan gritted his teeth, it was because he’d been on the verge of blurting something that went beyond the death of a friendship. While he’d never hid his orientation, most of his career had passed without much in the way of issues. Sure, in the beginning it was tougher. But as he worked his way through the ranks, had proven himself in the field, most of the shit talk had subsided.

However, Dan had always been cool with him, had never once been anything but an ally. He couldn’t discern whether Dan would’ve made a similar remark if he were straight and Tate was a woman.

“Duly noted.” Rogan unclenched the fist he hadn’t noticed he made. “I gotta go. Lenny and Mitch will be here any minute for the game.”

“Oh yeah? Tell them I said hello. It’s been a while.”

“Sure. Bye.”

His response might’ve been on the curt side, but there’d been no hiding how irritated he was anyway. He might be expert level when it came to pretense on an assignment, but in his daily life he couldn’t be bothered with lies or playacting.

Rogan went about the mundane tasks of getting ready for his friends’ arrival. He verified his phone was on the charger and his emails checked, so that once the game was over, he could crawl into bed. He also popped open a pre-socializing can of beer. He could already tell it was going to be one of those nights.

Soon enough, a thump on the door sounded and he welcomed Lenny and Mitch inside. Their shared greetings were more tepid than normal, and while Rogan had expected there’d be some awkward moments their first post-funeral game night, he hadn’t anticipated his own level of awkwardness.

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