Hatched

Chapter Seven

June 29th, 2021

1000 hours

Quinn's face was emotionless as he stared at the medical examiner's preliminary findings. The results were inconclusive. The examiner's notes confirmed disembowelment as the cause of death, though he had as of yet been unable to determine what sort of weapon caused the damage. Quinn had sent Garcia, after a rather heated debate, to oversee the autopsy, which had not officially started.

Quinn was unperturbed by the gruesome photos. He had seen far too much, witnessed too many macabre murders, to be put off by this one. The only problem was finding a motive: he could not wrap his head around why somebody would want to kill Stan.

After he'd flown back to the mainland, and observed a rather beautiful woman secure the corpse of a dolphin, he'd quickly come back to interrogate the employees: he wouldn't want Garcia to think him untruthful. He had made note of the agency the woman worked for, and fully intended on following up with his sashimi date.

A soft knock on the door indicated his next suspect had arrived. He switched on the recording device, motioning to Shepp in the corner, who straightened from his leisurely lean against the wall. Gordon was still stationed outside Ellis' office, and he'd been unusually excited to do so.

"Come in." Quinn closed the report and stood up. Shepp opened the door, quickly ushering in a burly, squat man with blazing red hair. He eyed Quinn warily and plopped into the empty chair on the other side of the desk without invite. Quinn lowered his own long limbs into his chair.

He briefly glanced at the list of employees, matching the man across him with a picture from the file. "You must be Mr. Boggs."

"That's what they call me." The man grumbled gruffly, crossing his arms.

Quinn's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Please remember, you are being interviewed by a federal agent. Keep your answers clear and concise, and refrain from any sarcasm."

"Alright then." The man, Boggs, glared back, clearly put off by Quinn's lack of candor.

"I'll be brief," Quinn began, adopting a casual countenance "did you know Stan?"

"Sure, I knew him. Everyone on the rig knew him."

"Of course," Quinn continued, noticing the man's posture was relaxed. He did not see any behavior indicative of dishonesty "can you tell me what kind of man he was?"

"He was a hard worker. Kept to himself mostly, didn't put up much of a fuss."

"Were you close to him?"

The man frowned, bushy auburn brows furrowing above his hardened eyes. "No, like I said, he kept to himself."

"Is there anyone he was particularly close to?"

"That kid, Tony. I think he was kind of a father to the guy; didn't know his own dad, anyway." He mumbled with a heavy, east Texan accent. The words were slow and drawling.

Quinn nodded, motioning to the recorder. "Speak up, please."

"Don't know anyone who would want to hurt him. I 'magine you'd ask that next."

"Aren't you helpful?" Quinn mused, folding his hands under his chin. "Did he have disagreements with anyone?"

"Nah, guy was likeable enough."

It was quickly apparent to Quinn that this guy was not a suspect. His face was open, devoid of any micro expressions. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Boggs. If you think of anything else, please contact me." He slid a pristine, crisp business card across the desk. Boggs picked it up, his left eye drifting to the side as he looked at it.