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"When will the coroner come out with his final decision on time of death?"
He folded his hands on the table. "Should be soon. I can only hope there's no overlap in time."
"Me, too." I leaned in closer. "I wish I could kiss you."
He smiled at that, his eyes soft. "Me, too. Believe me, if and when I get out, I'm going to be doing a lot more than kissing you. You owe me." Then he cracked a grin – that old familiar Hunter Saint grin that made my heart squeeze.
"I do owe you, don't I?" I smiled back, narrowing my eyes. "I have a lot of debt to pay off."
"You do."
We leaned closer, inches from each other with the glass between us. Then, just as we were staring into each other's eyes, there came a knock at the door to Hunter's room and it was time to leave.
"If you're still in here next week, I'll be back," I said, feeling a bit teary-eyed that I had to leave him.
"I hope I'm not still here next week, though. If I'm not, I'll either be transferred to prison to wait for trial or I'll be home in bed with you."
I kissed my fingers and blew him a kiss. Then a guard opened Hunter's door, impatient for him to leave the room. I stood, caught his eye one last time, and then he was gone.
Over the next few days, I divided my time between my classes, seeing Graham at the hospital and visiting my mom at Aunt Diane's. I asked George what he'd heard about Hunter and checked my mail in hopes that I'd receive another email from Hunter’s lawyer, but there was nothing new.
The grand jury was coming up on Wednesday, almost a week since Hunter was taken in, due to the weekend. He was doing well enough in custody, according to George, who went to see him in the morning.
According to George, there was a very brief time of overlap when Hunter could have killed Spencer, although it was next to impossible given the location of the murder scene and where Hunter was at the time, so they were keeping him in custody, presenting the evidence to the grand jury to decide.
We finished the last of the plans for the memorial service, and wrote up obituaries for various papers. James agreed to pick Graham up, since he had a huge SUV.
It was held in a funeral home in town, and the casket was closed, given the nature of Spencer's death. From what the police told us, the bullet had gone through the front of his skull and exited out the back. He'd been shot in the chest as well, almost perfectly through his heart. Whoever did it was an expert marksman. He was dead in seconds.
Considering what Hunter had told me about his sordid past, I thought it wasn’t good enough justice. I would have liked to have seen him publicly shamed and forced to f
ace his crimes, standing trial and going to jail. That he died quickly, and probably without knowing what happened, was so unfair. The only good thing was that I would never have to see him again. Our last encounter could have killed me, if my mom hadn't come down and called him off.
You don't always get exactly what you want, but he was gone and that was almost good enough.
Chapter 7
Celia
The funeral home was packed, every chair taken, with overflow in the room next to the one we chose. I’d had no idea how many colleagues and friends Spencer had. We ran out of printed handouts and our assistant from the funeral home had to quickly print off more. Luckily, they had a color printer in the office or there would have been a lot of people leaving without a memorial flyer. A few of Spencer's colleagues spoke – about his work as a ADA and then DA, how he was dedicated to fighting organized crime and bringing criminals to justice.
I had a hard time not laughing out loud when the colleague said that, because standing at the back while the eulogies were being read, wearing dark glasses, was Sergei Romanov himself. When I glanced back and caught sight of him, I had to do a double take. He caught me watching and removed his glasses, smiling at me.
That smile made me shiver.
I turned back to watch the Assistant DA while he finished his eulogy and felt a sense of doom. Hunter was in jail. I wasn't entirely sure Hunter wasn't guilty. I was still in danger because the Romanov brothers knew me and knew I was a way to get to Hunter.
After the memorial was over and we had shaken hands with those colleagues who wanted to give us their condolences, we packed up the wheelchair and drove to my Aunt Diane's for a small family gathering.
It was very small, just my mother – who was exhausted and immediately took her morphine and lay on the sofa – my Aunt Diane and her husband Mike, their kids, Graham, and me. We talked about the good times, and they were few. Trips we had taken to Florida before Mom got really bad. Time spent at the beach. Family barbecues.
When it was time to take Graham back to the hospital, I went with him and got him settled back into his hospital room. I spent the rest of the evening with him, having a late snack from the cafeteria vending machines instead of dinner.
We sat in his hospital room and talked quietly about Hunter and whether he was guilty and what would happen if he was.
"He told me he wasn't guilty. He didn’t kill Spencer but his prints were on the weapon. It makes him look guilty. He says he was set up by Sergei Romanov."
"I hope he's not guilty," Graham said, his eyes distant. "We were friends once. So Romanov did it because of the sex ring connection?"
