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?

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 cucumbers. 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."

"Okay, sister," he said and met my eyes. "Thanks for coming by. Let me know if anything happens on the case."

"I will."

I left the hospital and James took me to the dorm so I could see Amy. I'd gotten a text from her and wanted to spend some time with her before going to Aunt Diane's. When I arrived, I felt a pang of regret that I was no longer living in my room. Although I liked being with Hunter – when I was with him – I also liked my independence and being on my own. Amy was just down the hallway and we’d spent a lot of time together, so I missed the old connection we had. I missed sitting with her in the dining hall for our meals and spending time in each other's rooms, watching movies or Netflix, drinking beer.

I missed my old life – the one not filled with Russian mafia bosses, loan sharks, and gangsters. The one before Sean Saint was killed, before Graham lost all our inheritances, and before Hunter was in custody.

I wanted Hunter, but like this?

I finally got an email from Hunter's lawyer about a time to meet Hunter. I'd go for the last visiting time of the day, from seven to eight forty-five in the evening. James agreed to take me, and I was nervous as we drove to Alexandria.

Hi, Celia -- Make sure you get there about an hour early. There are only so many rooms and if they're filled up, you won't be able to see him. Oh, and don't wear any jewelry or any t-shirts with political messages. They're strict about what visitors can wear.

I sent him an email in reply that I'd be there an hour early, thanking him for letting me know about the whole process. Although I was in first year law, I had no idea how the real system worked on a day-to-day basis.

Since my visit was scheduled for seven, I made sure James dropped me off at the facility at five forty-five, just to be on the safe side. When I arrived, there were already people waiting in line in front of a metal detector. We were made to remove all outerwear and jewelry other than wedding rings and medical alert bracelets. Everything went into a lockers and we were then each given a key to our locker. After that, I had to fill out a visitor's form and wait while my ID was put through a computer search. I was then given a lanyard with a printed card with the floor and room number where I would go to meet Hunter. The other visitors seemed more familiar with everything and were ready, scribbling down their info on the visitor's forms and lining up to go through the metal detector. Once the clock struck six, we were shuttled through the detector and our hands stamped. After that, we went through a set of doors and had our stamped hands checked under a UV light. Finally, we took the elevator to our respective floors and then to a special room for visitors. It was tiny, with a desk, a metal stool, and a glass partition dividing the room in half. There were holes in the glass so you could supposedly hear the person you were visiting.

It was horrible.

After I was seated, the door opened and in walked Hunter, wearing a jumpsuit.

He looked haggard, his hair a mess, his skin pale.

He sat on the stool and faced me, smiling sadly.

"You came," he said, and I was shocked that he felt that way.

"Of course I came," I said, and leaned closer, because it was difficult to hear him. "How are you holding up?"

He shrugged. "I've been worse. Frankly, cells are better than some of the places I've slept."

I smiled, but I didn't know what else to say.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I did it?" he said, his eyebrows raised.

"Did you do it?"

"Do you think I did?"

I shook my head. "You were angry when you saw what he did."

"I was," he replied. "I wanted to kill him, but I didn’t."

"Who did?"

"Sergei."

"You know that?"

He nodded. "Yeah, he set me up. I'll tell you all about it when I get out."

"When do you think that will happen?" I said and leaned closer. "I miss you."

He smiled softly. "I miss you. I feel like I just found you and now here I am."

"If you're innocent, they'll drop the charges."

He shook his head, his expression dark. "So trusting," he said. "I don’t have the same faith in the justice system that you do. Not after what happened to Sean."

"If you didn’t do it, they'll find evidence and let you go."

"Unless they want me for it. My family isn't exactly liked by the FBI or the local police. I thought they liked me, personally, but now I wonder…"

"Tell me what happened. Why were you in Alexandria?"

For the next hour and a half, Hunter told me about his trip to Alexandria. He explained about his meeting with the FBI's Child Sex Crimes unit about Spencer's ties to a child prostitution ring using Russian and Eastern European girls who were hoping to come to the USA and become models.

"They have to know you didn’t kill him, Hunter. Why else would they work with you if they didn’t trust you?"

He shrugged. "It all comes down to timing. My prints were on the weapon. If it was possible for me to have killed him because of his time of death, they'll indict me and I'll go to trial."

"So his time of death is important," I said, nodding in understanding.

"It depends on what the coroner finds. If there was any chance that I did it, I'm afraid I'm going down for it, even though I didn’t do it. Sometimes, the police start down one line of investigation and can't see any other options."

"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 face 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.