by S. E. Lund
I shrugged and decided to cooperate. He must know something if he wanted me not to contact anyone back in Boston.
Later, after we'd gone through every part of the cabin, checking for hidden compartments where pornography might have been kept, which were common in places like this, Millar and I stood in the living room and discussed the next steps. The forensic team had finished their sweep of the house and were starting to pack up. My stomach growled and I needed some food.
"What's next? I mean, now that Grant's dead?"
Millar shrugged. "He had lots of accomplices. They'll haul all the evidence down to the forensic labs in DC and we'll meet with federal prosecutors."
"I was afraid someone would have cleaned up the premises after I stopped Jones."
"His secretary at the mortgage brokerage where he works said he was out of town on business. When we asked where, she said he'd gone to Hong Kong to meet some foreign clients."
"He must have been a busy bee getting new ID. I'm surprised he could get it and take a flight out of the US on such short notice. He must have gone right out and decided to escape."
"I don't blame him. Interestingly, we don't have an Extradition Treaty with Hong Kong so Mr. Jones is likely going to stay there indefinitely…"
"Smart move. But he didn't squeal to Grant about being caught. I wonder why."
I shook my head. "Who knows? Maybe he was the one who shot Spencer."
"Maybe," Millar said and shrugged.
We went outside and stood on the front step while one of the FBI Special Agents sealed the door.
"Well, we're going back to the office to process this stuff." Millar glanced at me. "It's going to be a late night."
Then his cell rang and he answered it.
"Okay," he said and glanced at me. Then he walked a few steps away and spoke quietly into his cell. He appeared to be arguing, but kept his voice low enough that I couldn’t hear. Then, he turned to me, his expression dark.
"Bad news, Hunter. I just got a call from HQ. Officer, you have authority to place this man under arrest for the murder of Spencer Grant."
The cop glanced at Millar, a quizzical expression on his face like he didn’t believe it.
Adrenaline jolted through me. "What?"
He motioned one of the nearby cops over and handed him the cell. The cop listened and nodded. "I got it. Will do."
After he handed the cell back to Millar, the cop turned to me.
"Do it," Millar said.
Finally, almost reluctantly, the cop took hold of my arm, pulling it behind my back, his cuffs already out and on one wrist. I felt like fighting but I knew that was stupid, so I cooperated, providing him with the other wrist so he could cuff me.
After the cop read me my rights, he led me to a waiting police squad car and opened the door.
"I'm not guilty, " I said to Millar, who had an expression of disgust on his face.
"We got a Russian sniper rifle with your prints on it at the scene of the crime that says otherwise."
"Do you really think I'd be stupid enough to leave the murder weapon at the scene of the crime? Do you think I wouldn't wipe the prints off? That rifle was a plant. If you want to know who killed Spencer Grant, it's Sergei Romanov. That was his rifle. He set me up."
"Well," Millar said and opened the back door of the police sedan. "We'll let the evidence tell us the story."
"If the evidence is faked," I said, glaring at him, "you shouldn't trust it. Come on, you know that."
Millar didn’t answer. The cop shoved me into the rear seat, pushing my head down in the process. I sat in the back and fumed. There was no doubt that I was being framed for the murder of Spencer Grant. I'd been set up by Sergei Romanov. I thought back to my meeting with him months earlier. Had he been planning to kill Spencer all that time? Why?
I knew that Celia would be in shock and would have to be taking care of her mother now that Spencer was no longer there. She'd be frantic to know what had happened and where I was, but I couldn't call her.
Sergei must have learned about the investigation into Spencer's property and killed him to shut him up – which meant Sergei was involved in Spencer's little perversion.
I had threatened to kill Spencer. Publicly. I’d done so in front of his assistant the previous day. They had the murder weapon with my prints on it. Depending on when he was killed, they might have a timeline that worked to put me there when he was killed. I wasn't guilty, of course, but if the bulk of evidence made it look that way, given the nature of the crime – murder – I knew I'd be in custody until they either dropped the charges or the case went to trial.
I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself as the vehicle drove off – to where, I had no idea. To the local police department? To some FBI facility?
I tried to tell myself that the matter would be cleared up in a short time once they discovered the timelines didn’t match up.
Were they making a show of arresting me? Millar had said they wanted to bring me in on the assault charge, but this seemed excessive. My mind tried to concoct several scenarios where arresting me was necessary for some other goal, but I had no idea what. I'd call my lawyer as soon as I had the chance, before they could interrogate me. I knew enough to keep my mouth shut and not talk to them without my lawyer present. Even for an innocent man, the cops could trip you up, put words in your mouth.
Whatever was going on, I kept repeating to myself that Spencer was dead.
He was dead – the man responsible for Sean's death. The bastard who’d put my small-potatoes uncle away in a federal prison. The creep who molested pretty little girls and abused Celia and Graham.
I'd deal with the current shit I was facing easily enough. The fact that Spencer was dead almost made me laugh, except it was hard to be happy when I thought about all the pain and suffering he'd caused in his perverted existence.
The fact he was dead was small comfort, considering. The fact that they had evidence pointing to me was a real source of concern, but one I was certain would be cleared up once they had the time of death and I was exonerated.
Chapter 6
Celia
For the next twenty-four hours, I felt totally lost. Hunter was in police custody charged with the murder of my stepfather. My mother was a mess and staying in my aunt's spare bedroom, unable to process the fact that Spencer was dead and she was now all alone. Graham was recovering in the rehab hospital, learning to walk again, learning to use his arm, still talking through gritted teeth due to his broken jaw.
I sent a text to my advisor, telling him that my stepfather had been murdered and I'd need some time off to process things and take care of family matters, but in truth, studying would have at least distracted me from my turmoil. He wrote back and told me it was fine – that I could take a week off, even two if I needed it. He'd contact my profs and ask them to send me any reading material and excuse me from assignments if necessary.
I was thankful I was on good terms with my advisor and that he supported me. I needed to be with my mom and brother as much as possible for the next few days until we got things figured out.
I sat at a table in my aunt's house and drank a cup of coffee, staring out the window, ticking off in my mind what I'd have to do over the next few days to keep things under control. I had to make sure my mom's meds were all up to date, and pick up a prescription that she needed. I wanted to take her to a new doctor and get her meds reviewed. Spencer may have encouraged her addiction to morphine to keep her sedated and out of his business, but I wouldn't allow that to continue. I wanted to see my mother improve and have some sort of life – whatever was possible, given the fact that her injury had never healed properly and she was now disabled due to chronic pain.
My cell dinged and I checked it.
AMY: How are you?
CELIA: I'm at my Aunt Diane's trying to figure out what to do.
AMY: Do you want me to come over and spend time with you? Whatever you need. Should I bring tequila?
&nbs
p; I smiled, glad that I had as good a friend as Amy.
CELIA: No, it’s all right. I'm here for a while, but then I'll go back to the warehouse. Hunter was arrested.
AMY: WHAT??? Did he kill Spencer? Not that I'm sad Spencer's dead but… They arrested Hunter?
CELIA: Yeah… He was furious when he saw my neck after Spencer choked me, but I can't believe Hunter would actually kill him. Hunter was an officer in the Marines. He's not the type to lose control and just murder someone…
AMY: Oh, God, I hope not. Have you talked to him?
CELIA: Nope. But his lawyer did send me an email. He’s been charged and because it was murder, there'll be no bail. He'll be held at the jail until the grand jury decides whether to indict him.
AMY: Okay. Let me know if you need anything. Do you need me to contact your profs about class?
CELIA: Already did. My advisor contacted them for me and I'm on a leave of absence for a week or two if I need it.
AMY: When is the funeral? I suppose you have to arrange that. It must be hard for you to do it.
CELIA: I do. It's not like Graham can take over, and my mom is a mess. Aunt Diane's already looking after mom. I'll have a quiet viewing and that's it. No funeral. No mass. Nothing. He was a bastard, Amy. He was being investigated for being part of a child prostitution ring. Who would go to his funeral anyway?
AMY: He was? You never said…
CELIA: Yeah, Hunter told me.
AMY: What a huge fall from grace. To think he was the DA.
CELIA: I know. I can't imagine what will happen when that story gets out. There were already reporters at my mom's place. When they learn what he was being investigated for, it will be mayhem. UGH.
AMY: I know. I'll be there for you, sweets.
CELIA: Thanks. I'll talk to you later. Maybe we can have a beer or something. I'll need to get away from it all at some point.
AMY: Let me know. Bye.
CELIA: Bye. <3
I watched my mom sleep on the sofa, her face pasty, her eyes puffy from crying. Only her breakthrough dose of morphine could take away her pain for a while, making her sleep through the afternoon and evening.
"Your poor mom," Aunt Diane said, sitting beside me on the sofa, her arm around me. "She must be so upset. I know none of us liked Spencer, but she loved him. He looked after her all this time. She must be so afraid."
"We'll look after her better," I said. "He didn't really take care of her. He let her become addicted to morphine and she's slept most of her life away since they've been together."
"I know that but your mom only knows her husband was murdered."
I sighed and watched my mother sleep, wondering when Hunter would get out of custody and when I'd see him again. I wanted to see him, to make sure he was all right. I needed to look in his eyes and have him tell me he had nothing to do with Spencer's death.
As much as I hated Spencer and was relieved that he was dead, I didn't want to think that Hunter had done it and would go to jail probably for decades to pay for it.
I was selfish like that. I wanted Hunter for myself.
I always had.
After I put my mom to bed that night, tucking her in and kissing her cheek, I said goodbye to my Aunt Diane and went back to the warehouse with James.
"How are you doing?" he asked as we drove through the darkened streets.
"I'm exhausted. And I'm worried about Hunter."
"I know it looks bad, but I'm sure Hunter didn't do it. You'll see. They'll clear him when they'll discover that he didn't do it. Things will get back to normal."
"I hope so."
"I know so," James said. "I know Hunter as a man and as a soldier. He's honorable. He wouldn’t kill Spencer no matter how angry he was. He'd want Spencer to get justice."
I nodded, but wasn't so sure.
Spencer was the cause of Sean's death. I knew anger had been brewing inside of Hunter because of that fact. He'd shown me his willingness to use violence to get revenge, and killing Spencer was just that next step up from almost beating a man to death. He'd done that twice since I'd been with him – first Stepan and then he'd beaten Spencer.
For all I knew, he'd gone back in anger and killed him.
There was nothing I could do about it, so I stopped worrying and closed my eyes.
When we got back to the warehouse, I went inside and took the stairs to the third-floor apartment where I expected George would be waiting. I was glad when I saw him, even though his face was haggard and his eyes were bleary. He stood when I entered and came right over to me.
"How are you, Ms. Celia?" He peered at me, checking me over. "You need sleep, I think. Hunter will be cleared and let out soon."
"I hope so."
George shook his head. "I know so."
"You really don't think he did it? I mean, really? Be honest with me."
"No," he said. "Hunter did not kill. He wanted to but didn't."
"You know that for sure?" I looked in his eyes, trying to see deception.
He put his hand over his heart. "I know Hunter. He did not do."
I sighed, still not sure myself, but if George thought he was innocent, I had to accept that. George knew Hunter as a man better than most of us.
The next day, I woke early and checked my email, but there was no update from Hunter's lawyer about the case, or a time for a visit. I drank a coffee after my shower and read over the local news. Spencer's death was still making headlines, and there was a line in the latest article about an arrest being made, but there was no name included. I wondered why they wouldn’t mention Hunter's name, but perhaps they had some technical reason.
Whatever the case, Hunter was still in police custody and I had to take care of the arrangements for Spencer's viewing at the funeral home in case anyone wanted to come by and pay their respects. Interestingly, no one at the DA's office called to ask about a funeral. I suspected they must have known about the investigation into Spencer's past and the connection to a child prostitution ring back in Alexandria.
That made me wonder if Spencer hadn't been killed to shut him up. I felt a sense of justice that Spencer was dead. He'd been such a bastard to Graham and me all our lives with him. I felt no sadness at his death or the fact he'd been murdered.
But Hunter was still in custody. That made me nervous. The grand jury would be convening later in the week and I hoped that they would decide to let Hunter go. Why they would have arrested him in the first place I couldn’t figure out. The prosecutor would bring evidence against Hunter to the grand jury and they would decide whether to indict him. If so, the case would go to trial. If not, he would be released.
Until then, Hunter would stay at the local jail.
I went to see Graham at the rehab hospital and we talked about the case and Hunter’s arrest.
"Do you think he did it?" he asked me through gritted teeth.
I shook my head. "I don't really think so. I mean, he was angry at Spencer for hurting me, but he came back from the house and said Spencer was fine. That was the night before he was killed."
"Was Hunter with you?" Graham asked, his voice light.
"He was for part of the night. Then he went for a run and went back to the gym. He said he was going to Alexandria for some work, but that was in the afternoon. They found Spencer that afternoon."
"Sounds guilty as hell to me," Graham said. "They don't usually arrest innocent people."
"They do sometimes," I replied, remembering the stats I'd read from The Innocence Project, which investigates those falsely accused of murder and on death row. "The process is good, but not perfect. There are cases that slip through all the safeguards."
"But you said Spencer was in Alexandria and so was Hunter. Spencer was found dead in Alexandria. Sounds pretty damn suspicious to me."
"It does, but I don’t believe it. I don't think Hunter was angry. He'd calmed down considerably when I saw him. He's not that kind of man, Graham. He was in the special operations forces. Those guys are cool as cu
cumbers. They don't go off on rampages."
"Some do," Graham said, his expression dark. "I could see Hunter killing Spencer because of Sean. He must still hate Spencer because of that. That alone is enough to make me suspicious. That's probably why he was arrested."
I sighed and leaned back in the uncomfortable hospital chair beside Graham's bed. The hospital was busy at that time of day, with visitors crowding into the rooms and nurses going in and out, helping the patients with their needs.
"How long will you be in here?" I asked, glancing around.
"Another week or so," Graham replied and adjusted his pillow. "I've got to be able to do certain things before they'll let me go home. We're working on it."
"Will you come to the memorial service?"
"When will it be?"
"On Monday afternoon."
"I doubt it. Not that I'd want to come anyway, even if I wasn't in here."
"Graham!" I made a face.
"Well, it’s the truth. I'm happy he's dead. I'm ecstatic. Wasn’t soon enough. Whoever killed him? I want to shake his hand – and if it was Hunter, I'd buy him a fucking drink."
I laughed nervously, sympathetic to him but feeling bad about it. "I feel the same way, except I don't want Hunter to go to jail."
"I'm just glad he's gone. If Hunter did it, that's his choice and his consequences. Whoever killed him, I really don't care. And I don't want to go and pretend I do."
"Come for Mom. She'll want to you go. I'm sure there'll be people there who have no idea what a bastard he is and it would look strange if either of us weren't there. You can go in a wheelchair."
He shrugged helplessly. "I'll see what I the nurses say. I can get a day pass and we can go together."
I checked my watch and saw that it was getting late. "I'm going back to the warehouse," I said. "I'll go over to Aunt Diane's for supper and spend time with Mom. We have to write up an obituary. How do you write an obituary for a man you hate with all your guts?"
"I'm glad it's you instead of me," Graham said, grinning through his wired jaw.
"We'll spring you and bring you to the service no matter what you want," I said with a laugh and then bent down and kissed him on the cheek. "Take it easy. I'll come and see you again tomorrow."