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I put my cell away and then waited, my eye on my watch and my mind on the cabin along the bay and what the FBI sex crimes team would find once they got there.
I hoped Spencer hadn't the chance to let people know to take out the trash. I hoped to be able to do that myself, or at least help. It would be a real shame if we went into the cabin and found it had been wiped clean.
I showed up at the cabin on time, only to find a police barricade about half a block on either side of the location. A cop stood with his hands on his hips, guarding the perimeter.
"This area is closed to traffic," the cop said.
"Hunter Saint," I replied. "I'm meeting Special Agent Millar."
He spoke into the mike on his shoulder and waited for a response. He nodded and then gestured to the cabin.
"He's expecting you. Go ahead."
I ducked under the yellow police tape and made my way up the drive to the front door. It was open, and a blue-jacketed FBI Special Agent emerged with a box. I expected it was filled with tapes or other evidence.
He nodded to me and I went in the front entrance. Millar met me at the door and handed me some blue paper booties.
"Put these on. We don't want you to contaminate the crime scene. Don't touch anything."
I slipped the paper booties on and followed him to the basement. Down there, some forensic workers were dusting for prints and taking photos of the set up used to make videos. Another forensic worker was shining a fluorescent light on the sink in the tiny bathroom, no doubt looking for evidence of blood.
"We got a boatload of evidence," Millar said, standing in the center of the room, his hands on his hips. "We have you to thank, so thanks."
I glanced around, feeling satisfied that they'd be able to bring Spencer down with all the evidence he and his fellow perverts left behind.
"I'd love to be with you when you arrest him."
"We'll have to process this evidence and then make sure we have enough to take him in, but yeah. Since you tipped us off to this place, I'm sure I could arrange things so you could come along with the team. You like this kind of work?"
I shrugged. "Yeah," I said. "Not as messy as what I did as a Marine, but still fighting bad guys."
"If you need a reference, you got it."
I followed Millar around and listened as he spoke to the various Special Agents about the crime scene and evidence they were collecting. Special Agent Cross appeared and we discussed the evidence they'd found. While I listened, I thought seriously about Millar's suggestion that I join the FBI. I could see myself doing this work – of that I was certain. I'd joined the Marines to fight for my country and to escape my family's business ties to the mafia and organized crime. Getting the short training at Quantico gave me insight into what an FBI agent did and I found it a natural fit with my training in the Marines.
About an hour into the investigation, Millar got a call and stood off to the side of the room, his hand over one ear. He spoke into the cell and then glanced up at me and the look on his face was one of concern. When he ended the call, he came over and put his hands in his pockets, eyeing me.
"Grant's body was just found," he said, watching me closely.
"What?
" My jaw dropped at the news. "He's dead?"
Millar nodded and Cross came over, looking me over once before turning to Millar.
"You got the news?"
They both turned to me.
"I'm as shocked as you are," I said, knowing immediately that they probably suspected me.
"The coroner's just now determining the approximate time of death, but it's been hours."
"Where did they find him? How did he die?"
"According to the report I got, he died within the past eight hours. Shot in the head and chest."
"He was shot?" I shook my head, shocked at the development. "Two shots? That sounds like a hit job."
