“There’s not a damned thing in here that I didn’t know before,” Spence grumbled. He was seated at the island in the kitchen, halfway through reading the file.
“Patience.” Gregg said, pouring himself a second cup of coffee. “There has to be something, or our friend wouldn’t have figured it was important that you have it.”
“I hope.” He continued reading until a name caught his attention. “This might be it,” he said. “A man got in touch with the lead detective on the case, a week after the shooting. He claimed that he was walking his dog along the path when he heard gunshots and saw a man running away. According to the witness, he and the man saw each other at the same time, which is why he was afraid to come forward, until, and I quote, ‘My conscience got the better of me’.”
“Did he descr
