“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. “You always set a good example for me. Just... give me courage when I go out tomorrow. Okay?”
A gentle wind blew across the yard as I spoke—as if that was the response my father had given me.
I remained there talking to my old man for about fifteen minutes, thanking him for giving me the will to go on this run. I told him that it had taken me a year to remember to not be so aloof, but that because of his example, I was now in a position to better help the club.
Maybe I was giving thanks to something and someone who had no actual sway over me right now. Maybe my father was forever gone, and there was no afterlife from where he was looking down upon me. Maybe this was all just silly nonsense.
But you know what?
It made me feel just a little bit better.
And if the soul of my father couldn’t do that, the memory of him sure could.
Angela
Iknew as soon as the truck pulled up that it was Lane Carter.
He at least had had the decency not to drive that ear-deafening motorcycle to this sacred place, but just seeing him burned me inside. No amount of medication could properly calm me after seeing a guy like that, especially the way he treated me when I went to his clubhouse a week ago.
But what was perhaps worst of all was the doubts that he had planted in my head since that day.
He had insisted on his life that he had not murdered Shannon, but I couldn’t let it go that easily. I was still determined when I left his shop to get a warrant on something, anything, that would allow me access to their territory so I could uncover more crimes in the process.
I started by continuing to peruse the crime files of every single member of the Black Reapers in my free time while giving the minimum amount of necessary attention to the problem of drug crime in the area. I had some warrants sent out for the arrest of a few local druggies, but that was about it as far as my official work went. I spent most of the time scanning through the files, wondering just how many crimes had been scrubbed or outright ignored by Beth and the other officials here on account of corruption or “accidental” ineptness.
Admittedly, there just wasn’t as much as I wanted there to be. It was almost like the club had agreed to get arrested on some of the more minor charges, like public intoxication, DUIs, and other things, in agreement to not get charged on some of the more severe crimes like murder, drug running, and other matters.
I suspected as much because when I looked at some of the files for members of the Fallen Saints, the rival club of the Reapers, their rap sheets looked like a relisting of every criminal offense in the codebook. Murder, theft, rape, arson, property damage, fraud—you name it, they had done it. I had a hard time believing the Saints were totally evil and the Reapers were totally antiheroes of some kind—they all were MCs, they all came from similar backgrounds, and they all had the same social ideals. It wasn’t like one came from Nazi Germany, and the other came from Native American tribes.
I couldn’t get my head around the perceived corruption in my very own office. The very office sworn to protect the public was only protecting one small, rogue group of outlaws in Springsville. And the only way to get them in trouble...
Was to get one of them to crack.
I had to do some digging and figure out who I could get the most leverage on. It wasn’t enough to go for someone who had a long rap sheet and someone at risk of more jail time—I had to find someone who was also high enough up the chain to make a difference, someone who had grievances with the club, and someone whom I knew I could keep alive if it got found out they were the rat.
Which, unfortunately, was easier said than done.
And that said nothing about having an airtight case to take to Beth. If I didn’t have that, there wasn’t any point to this—she’d throw me out of the office or, worse, find a way to take me out.And even if I do...
I shook the thoughts and the sight of Lane off and knelt before Shannon’s grave. It was like we were back in her backyard, playing on the lawn, both of us just sitting down under a clear sky and bright sun.
“Hey, Shannon,” I said. “I hope you’re doing well up there. I’m sure you’re telling my grandparents all about the crazy life in Springsville.”
I laughed but had to stop to avoid crying.
“Look, I can’t lie... I’m sorry I’m not bringing you to justice. I’m sorry that... that I haven’t been able to corral your killer and bring him in.”
Your killer...
I hadn’t said “the one responsible for your death,” which, in my mind, was still Lane. I had specified “your killer,” the person who had pulled the trigger.
And if Lane was to be believed, that was Cole Carter. He was the one who needed to face justice.
If anyone could find him, that was. As far as society was concerned, he was gone. There wasn’t a great deal of interest in trying to find him now.
“I’m going to do whatever it takes, Shannon,” I said, wiping away another tear. “Whether it’s a Saint or one of the Carters who did it... ”
And whether or not I have to do it on my own or if I’m able to do it legally...
