Underground Legends: The Hunt (BWWM)

Chapter 25 - Saint

Saint Botero (Male P.O.V)

October 23, 2074

As soon as I stepped foot on Quinton's front porch, Nia rushed out of the house.

"Thank goodness you're here, Saint." She whispered, pulling me off to the side.

"Why? What's going on?"

"He's doing it again."

"Where is he?" I asked, starting for the door.

There was no need to elaborate. I already knew she was referring to Quinton becoming so invested in a case that it completely consumed his every waking thought. His basic needs like eating and sleep would go ignored.

"Sitting at the kitchen table. In the same spot since I arrived three hours ago." She sighed wearily. "Can you please get him to take a break for an hour or two?"

"Yes, even if I have to force him."

Even though finding Abella and Logan was my priority, I couldn't sit by and watch Quinton's disastrous behavior.

She cracked the tiniest of smiles, but it did nothing to dispel the sadness reflected in her gaze.

"Thank you." She said as I entered the kitchen.

Just as I expected, Quinton didn't even so much as glance my way. His eyes stayed glued to his laptop.

"Quinton!" I called, waving my hand in front of his face.

He looked up at me while removing the earbuds from his ears. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if Cromwell gave you the security tapes."

He nodded and stretched his arms above his head but didn't say anything.

"So... Did he?" I pressed, growing antsier by the second. It had been two days since talking with Cromwell. That was more than enough time for him to hand over the tapes.

"Yeah, he did." He groaned and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "But they weren't much help."

"Can I take a look?"

He paused long enough to make me think he would refuse before eventually giving a slight wave of his hand. "Go for it."

I took a seat to his right and cleared a space on the cluttered table for the laptop. At that moment, the conversation with Mia was the farthest thing on my mind.

"You're really going to let me see?" My finger hovered over the mouse, itching to click. But despite my eagerness, I still allowed him the opportunity to change his mind.

"Yeah. If I don't, you'll go crazy wondering and end up doing something stupid that would lead to me arresting you." He said with a smug grin.

"What can I say, buddy? You really know me well." I lightly chuckled and pressed play on the video.

Two catering vans appeared on the screen, slowing as they neared the gate. An officer stepped out of the booth, with another following shortly afterward. The shorter of the two men questioned the drivers while the other inspected the undercarriage of the vans.

"It's just as you said. Irwin came with the catering crew, delivered the food, then left. But..." Quinton fast-forwarded the video. "He returned fifteen minutes later. By himself."

I unconsciously leaned forward as one of the catering vans came on screen, just as he said. One of the officers spoke briefly with him before allowing him entry. A short time later, Irwin returned to the gate on foot, taking the men by surprise. He quickly executed them before they could even grab their weapons. And soon after, the screen turns black with two words written across the center.

No signal.

"Damn." I pushed the laptop away from me and sagged in the seat. "Do you know how many people were in each van?"

"Two each."

"Have you already contacted the catering company?"

"Yep. All three workers had the same story. He went back to the house because he left his phone."

"Who drove back with him?"

"No one." He picked up his notebook and flipped to a page filled with scribbles. "Lenny Till was supposed to, but he ended up riding back with the others."

"Why?"

"He wanted to get off work on time to celebrate his third anniversary with his husband."

I slowly nodded. "So Irwin was alone."

"Maybe... Or his partner showed up after the cameras were out. Either way, we have no way of knowing for sure."

"Da-"

"Quinton! Saint! Come quick!" Nia hollered from the living room.

Both of us shot up from the table and rushed from the room.

"What's wrong?" Quinton asked.

She pointed at the television. "Look."

My legs gave out, and I dropped onto the couch when I saw Abella's face on the screen.

I tried to speak, but words refused to come. All I could do was stare at her tear-streaked face.