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“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low even though Spencer is now staring up at me from where his head is still resting in my lap.
“Are you serious?” The sound of relief in Jay’s voice mixed with disbelief causes an ache in my chest to build.
I can feel the pieces of my heart being put back together.
“Yes, Jay. The chief is on his way to arrest him, and coincidentally, Spencer and I stumbled on Sam’s apron.”
“What?” You can hear the shock in Jay’s voice. “Where? How? I don’t understand. That happened so fast. It’s barely been two hours since you presented the profile.”
After relaying to Jay everything Spencer explained to me, I hang up with the promise to keep him updated on the situation. Spencer finally calls the chief and informs him of what we found.
It’ll be an hour before the crime scene unit arrives, so Spencer and I are babysitting the evidence. No one is allowed in the room with us. There’s an officer standing guard outside of the open door, and another in the room watching to make sure we don’t contaminate the evidence.
“So,” I start, wanting to talk about anything other than why we’re stuck in this room. Why I’m going to miss my plane back home. “When are you going to propose to Mia?”
“I figure I’ll let things die down a little, make her squirm for a few weeks, and then surprise her. Why? You got a better idea?”
“Actually I do, but you have to keep an open mind,” I say, echoing the words he spoke to me a week ago when he called to ask me to come here.
“That’s my line.”
“I stole it,” I counter quickly.
“I don’t like it. You know I can’t refuse your requests. I’m a sucker for my ladies.”
Rolling my eyes, I’m about to launch into detail about my big idea when there’s a commotion outside of the door. I hear hollering, recognizing the voice immediately.
“This is my house. You have no right to be here,” Brandon yells. “I don’t give a shit if you have a warrant. This is my business. I’ve done nothing wrong.” There’s a long pause before footsteps grow louder as they climb.
“Chief,” the officer at the door says as he steps aside.
“Well, that didn’t go well,” he says in lieu of a greeting. “Though, I can’t blame the guy. I’d be pissed if my brother killed someone and hid the evidence in my house, too. Where is it?”
“In the return air vent,” Spencer offers, pointing across the room but making no move to get up off the bed.
“We’re not cutting corners on this. The feds are sending a crime scene unit in. They should be here any time. I want them to bag and tag the apron and all its contents. They’re going to process everything at their lab. It’ll be quicker than the state lab. I’m hoping to have this wrapped up by the end of the week.”
“Where is he?” I hear myself ask.
“County jail. He’s being held without bail. He didn’t even put up a fight when we knocked on his door. Held out his hands and let us cuff him. It’s like he knew we were coming for him.”
He probably did, and that means he’s ready to talk. To tell his side of the story. To relive the events of that night because he knows his name will be infamous in the town of Great Falls.
