Underground Legends: The Hunt

Chapter 21 - Saint

Saint Botero (Male P.O.V)

October 21, 2074

Ken led me through the busy bullpen. Bits and pieces of overlapping chatter and loud ringing assaulted my ears as we passed the abundance of desks packed in the large room. My eyes swept over the faces, but none of them belonged to Quinton.

"Are you sure he's here?" I asked Ken for the second time since arriving at the police station.

I had already wasted enough time going to his house only to find he wasn't there. If he wasn't here, I would have to wait until tomorrow.

"Yes," he nodded a greeting to two officers marching past us with detainees in tow before going to a door on the left side. "He's in here."

"Thanks." I clapped him on the shoulder before heading inside.

Quinton stood at the far end of the boardroom holding a white mug. He never once turned as I made my way over to him. The transparent board spanning the length of the wall captured his complete attention. Pictures of the players with basic personal information typed beneath them filled the screen. Physical copies of the same information lay splayed across the long table behind him, along with anything else case related.

"Quinton," I called, coming to a stop beside him.

The deep contemplative look on his face slowly faded as he turned to look at me. At first, he didn't speak, just blinked twice, obliterating the glazed-over look in his eyes.

Before finally saying, "What are yo-"

"Have you seen this?" I spoke over him, pulling my phone from my pocket.

"What?"

I held my phone up for him to see the site. "A website dedicated to the killers."

"Yeah, I saw it." He sighed and gestured with his mug to the room outside. "We're in the process of finding the person that created it and getting it shut down now."

"Good." I slipped my phone back into my pocket. "I can't believe those sick fucks are praising them."

"Me either. But they probably see it as justice for the money they lost."

"Justice?" I snorted.

Nothing was justifying about someone dying in retribution for the money they lost.

"Nobody forced them to gamble." I continued.

"I know." He drained the contents of his mug before setting it down on the table. "And deep, deep, down they probably know it too. But they would rather do that than take responsibility for their actions."

I crossed my arms and let out a long sigh. He was right, but I didn't want to hear a reasonable explanation right now.

"How long until they shut down the website?" I asked.

"I'm not sure they'll let me know when it's finished."

I nodded. "While we wait, can you run the sketch of the guy Darius described through the system?"

"I already did."

"Did it help any?"

"Nope." He picked up a little black remote lying on the table edge and flipped through the screens. "There were no matches to anyone in our database."

"Wait, wait!" I shouted, seeing a familiar face in the rapidly changing images.

"What?"

"Go back." I moved closer to the screen and pointed at the picture. "Who's this?"

"That's uh..." He turned and quickly flipped through a stack of papers. "Donald Erwin, one of Elmer Finch's known acquaintances. Why?"

I tilted my head looking more intently at the image.

He was a burly guy with a long beard that reached his collarbone. Bushy eyebrows overshadowed his dark beady eyes while prominent bags rested underneath them. Tufts of rich, chestnut-brown hair stuck out from his black knit cap, curling at the base of his neck. Hidden amongst the strands were the makings of a tattoo etched into his pale skin. I leaned a bit closer, squinting but still failed to make it out.

"I have seen this guy recently," I said, unable to tear my eyes away from him.

"Where?"

The memory of him unloading food containers from the catering van popped into my head.

"Shit! We need to get to the house. Now!" The words came out a jumbled mess, each tripping over the other in their haste to leave my mouth as I ran to the door.

Quinton must have understood them or at least sensed the urgency and followed after me.