Page 88 of Smitty

He dialed the number again, then put the phone to his ear. After a few seconds, he grumbled something under his breath and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He motioned for me to follow as he started out of the bar. That’s when I asked, “What’s going on?”

“Need to find Shep.”

I fell into step behind him, trying my best to match his long, angry stride as he started down the hall. I didn’t say anything. I just waited silently for him to finally announce, “We got the wrong guy.”

I stopped in my tracks as I asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The kid they brought in.” Grim stopped and looked back at me. “He’s not the Coyote… It was his father.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah, the kid’s barely eighteen.” He shook his head. “And he don’t know shit about anything.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

“They’ve got the same damn name.” He let out a slow, aggravated breath before continuing down the hall. I followed and listened as he told me, “Didn’t help that the kid was wearing a hat and had a beard thicker than half the club. And he’s a thick ol’ boy. Made him look a good ten… fifteen years older.”

“Aw, shit.”

“Yeah. I don’t do kids, man.”

“I get it.” Grim took his job seriously, and that meant stepping out of line now and then. But there were certainly lines he wouldn’t cross, and that included torturing women or kids. When we rounded the corner, I asked, “What about his ol’ man? Did he tell you anything that might help us?”

“Said he’d patched into the Coyotes a few years back.”

“So he’s one of ‘em.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if the guy’s still around.” He stopped at Prez’s door as he told me, “Kid hasn’t seen him in weeks, maybe even months.”

I thought back, and it didn’t take long to put two and two together. If it had been months, there was a good chance he was there when we burned down their clubhouse and warehouse. “So, what made Shep think he was still alive?”

“The kid’s been using his ol’ man’s credit card to get food and shit.”

“So, we’re right back where we started?”

The words tasted bitter as I said them, but the fact that they were true made it that much harder to swallow. We had no answers, no leads, and it was only a matter of time before there was another strike against us. Grim shook his head and said, “Afraid so.”

He pushed Prez’s office door open and disappeared inside. The door clicked shut behind him, and I stood there alone in the hallway, staring down at the worn, wooden floor. Even though I trusted the brothers to handle things, I couldn’t help but think that we’d lost ground instead of gained it. One lead turned out to be some dumb kid, and the other was off hiding from the cops and DCS.

I was still hanging out in the hallway when Prez and Grim came out of the office and announced, “Conference room. Now.”

I followed them down the hall, and by the time we were seated, Shep came rolling in with Creed and Rusty. Prez remained standing. “We’ve got a problem.”

He went on to tell the others everything Grim had told me. As soon as he was done, Shep ran his hand across the back of his neck and let out a slow breath. “Sorry, Prez. That shit was totally on me.”

“Easy mistake to make,” Prez replied, trying to reassure him. “Hell, they got the same damn name and look like they should be brothers, not father and son.”

“Doesn’t matter. I should’ve caught it.”

“What’s done is done. We’ve gotta let it go and move forward.”

“And how the hell are we supposed to do that?” Creed asked. “We’ve got no word on this Raymond asshole, and for all we know, he’s gone underground, and we may never find his ass.”

“We’ll find him,” Shep answered confidently. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Yes, we will.” Prez gave him a nod. “And on another positive note, I spoke with Maverick… They’ve dealt with things there, and the Coyotes have been cleared out of Washington.”

“That’s good news.”