“And the third one?”
“I’d like to talk about the other three first,” he said, pushing two pictures in my direction. “Two of them, Meadow Elliot and Windsor Moore, are in their thirties. This one”—he pointed to an image of a beautiful woman with long red hair—“is Meadow Elliot. She just turned thirty this year. She’s a lawyer here in Arkansas. Lives about an hour from here in a little town called Perryville.
“From what I can see, she’s not connected to anyone we know, but Steele had that file for a reason.”
“Okay, keep an eye on her for now. Maybe send one of the guys out every few days to check on her, make sure she’s alright. I’d like to avoid disrupting her life, if we can, but I want to make sure she’s safe.”
“This one is Lauren Hollis. She’s fifty-two.”
“What have you found about her?”
“Not much. She lives in New Mexico, in a town called Truth or Consequences.”
I glanced at Omen with a skeptical look.
“I swear the name of the town is actually Truth or Consequences. It was named after a radio game show back in the fifties.” He smiled. Omen loved random facts.
“Okay, what’s so special about her?”
“Absolutely nothing,” he said. His brow furrowed, and I knew something was bothering him.
“What?”
“I don’t know… there is something familiar about this woman. But I’ve never been to New Mexico. And Lauren Hollis has never left. She was born there in 1974, graduated from high school, and has worked at the local diner ever since. There is nothing remarkable about the woman.”
“She never married? Never had kids?” I asked.
“No, and no. Spent her life waiting tables. Lives in a small trailer at the edge of town and seems to be content.”
“We need to send someone out there to talk to the woman.”
“That could be a problem,” Omen said, shuffling his feet.
“Why?”
“The Dead Soldiers.”
“Fuck!” I cursed.
I’d heard the name, but no one had ever been able to get close enough to infiltrate the club. All we knew was that they were all prior military, some retired, some discharged.
And not all honorably.
“Okay, let me make a few calls, see if I can get someone in there under the radar to get some information.”
I thought through my contacts. It was a risk, but Tyrant might be the only option. She was a woman, but she was a chameleon. She had a way of turning into exactly what someone needed in order to get them to trust her enough to spill their secrets.
But she was also a hothead. She might not carry the Doherty blood, but her temper rivaled Reaper’s.
“And the third? There’s no picture?”
“Windsor Moore,” Omen said with a sigh.
“You can’t find anything about her?”
“Oh, I found information—lots of it actually. Problem is, it’s not real.”
“What do you mean, it’s not real?”
