EDGE OF REASON

by Barker, Freya

  “Actually…” I can hear a smile. “…Evan does it for me. He makes it fun.”

  “I bet he does.”

  We spend a few more minutes on idle chitchat before we end the call and I turn back to the lesson plans I found for Ezrah.

  He’s less than enthused when I set them in front of him at the kitchen table.

  “Why? Why do I hafta do schoolwork?”

  “Well, you need an education so you can be anything you want when you grow up.”

  He looks at me with a stubborn expression on his face. “I don’t.”

  “How do you know that?” I challenge him.

  “Good for no more’n working the pits.”

  “The pits?”

  “Gravel pits.”

  “Who told you that?” He shrugs in response. “Well, they’re wrong. You’re smart, you’re brave, and you can be anything you want to.”

  “Black people got no place in school.”

  “Oh no? What about Trunk? He grew up with nothing, and he didn’t just help his sister to get an education, he got himself through college as well. He had to work really hard, but he had a goal and set out to get it. You can too.”

  He appears to think on that for a moment. I don’t think he quite buys into it yet, but at least he pulls the top sheet toward him, and grabs the pencil I put down for him.

  I turn to the living room, and Mom winks at me from behind the book she’s reading. River is babbling to himself as he tries to fit a triangular block into a round hole.

  “Some more coffee, Mom?”

  “Please.”

  Ezrah is bent over the worksheet, concentrating hard with his tongue between his teeth when I glance over. I printed off very basic stuff, just to gauge where he’s at with his schooling, since we have no way to find out. Yet.

  I pull my phone from my pocket and shoot off a text to Trunk.

  Me: Ezrah mentioned gravel pits. Think maybe he lived close to one?

  Trunk: Will check. Good catch. Call later.

  Not sure if he means for me to call later, but I figure it’s probably the other way around. I send him a thumbs-up and am about to put the phone down when it rings. Thinking maybe Trunk decided to call now, I blindly answer.

  “Hey, you.”

  Silence.

  “Trunk?”

  More silence and a shiver runs down my back when I hear a deep inhale followed by dead air.

  “Hello?” I try again, but I’m greeted with the sound of empty static.

  “Everything okay, honey?” Mom asks, and I muster up a smile for her.

  “Yup, must be a wrong number.” I quickly pour her a fresh cup and bring it to her. “Gonna run up for a minute. I forgot something.”

  Before she can call me on the lie—I’ve never been able to put much past her—I take off upstairs and close my bedroom door behind me. Scrolling through my phone I find the number.

  “La Plata County FBI. Jaimie? It’s Jasper Greene.”

  He throws me for a second when he calls me by name, but then I realize he probably recognizes the number.

  “I’m probably overreacting,” I start. “But I just got a weird call. I was expecting Trunk and didn’t check. Are you still monitoring my ex? I mean, can you tell if he made a call?”

  “No alert went up here, but let me see if there’s a glitch. Tell me about the call?”

  “It was probably nothing.” I already feel silly contacting him over what likely was just a wrong number like I told Mom. “No one said anything.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No. Except, I did hear someone breathing, but then they hung up.”

  “Calls from the jail are usually identified to the recipient first, warning them the call will be recorded.”

  “There was nothing like that. I guess it was just a wrong number. Never mind. Sorry to be a bother.”

  “There was a reason your mind went there, though,” Jasper insists.

  “It just made me feel unsettled, that’s all.”

  “Can you read back the number to me? I’m just going to check into it.”

  Putting him on speaker I find incoming calls and recite the last number.

  “Sounds like Denver number. Leave it with me, okay? I’ll look into it and call you back.”

  Feeling all kinds of stupid, I apologize for wasting his time, but he waves me off and ends the call.

  I meet Mom coming up the stairs with a sleepy River in her arms.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine. Let me take him, Mom.” I reach for my son, who has his thumb firmly in his mouth.

  “He doesn’t go for his morning nap that often anymore,” she says, a little concerned. “Feels a bit warm too. Maybe he’s coming down with something?”

  I press my lips to his forehead. He is a little warm. “Could be. Could also be he’s teething again. He’s been sucking his thumb a lot the last few days.”

  “True. Well, if you have him, I’ll throw something together for lunch. Preferences?”

  “Why don’t you ask Ezrah? Doesn’t matter to me.”

  She turns and starts walking down the stairs.

  “Oh, and Mom?” She stops and turns her head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I probably don’t say it enough, but I love you lots.”

  “Nowhere else I’d rather be, honey. Love you too.”

  River is already asleep when I lay him down in his crib. So sweet.

  My heart is full.

  Trunk

  “Where’s Matt?”

  I’ve looked at the boys’ barn, checked outside, and just did a second walk-through of the clubhouse and gym, but I can’t find him anywhere.

  “Last time I saw him he was out here, helping cut wood for the framing,” Wapi informs me.

  They finished ripping down everything that was damaged yesterday, and this morning they’re doing a complete rebuild of the front portion of the clubhouse, including part of the kitchen. There seem to be even more bodies here today than yesterday. It looks like an Amish barn raising. Not that I’ve ever seen one before, except on TV, but it sure looks like a community coming together.

  It’s a credit to the kind of club Ouray turned Arrow’s Edge into.

  This morning’s meeting was more of an update.

  Tse is scheduled for surgery on his face tomorrow. He has a piece of metal shrapnel in his head they’re planning to remove, which is a little too close to his optical nerve. Momma is awake and talking but still kept in ICU, partially because of her age. She’s apparently more pissed about the damage to her kitchen than anything else.

  Ouray shared Ezrah’s story with the brothers as well as his phone call last night with Tink. The man hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, and suggested Ouray talk to Chains instead, but he was nowhere to be found, which shouldn’t be a surprise.

  Some of the guys were even more fired up to chase the man down, especially Yuma when he showed up. Poor guy looks like shit. From what I gather his relationship with his parents hasn’t always been easy, but having your mother shot and almost killed in your own club has got to cut deep. I have a sneaky suspicion the fact—by some accounts—he was holed up with Red and Ginger going at it in their bedroom at the Mesa Riders’ clubhouse, when this was going down, weighs heavy on his mind. Guilt is an ugly thing if you leave it unprocessed.

  After the meeting, I pulled him aside to see if he needed to talk, but he blew me off.

  I checked in with some of the boys after, making sure they were handling what happened. Helping with the work seems to be doing them some good.

  I’d left Matt for last, but now I can’t find him.

  Thanking Wapi, I do another search of the clubhouse, the barn, and end up looking through all the outbuildings. He’s nowhere to be found.

  Finally I go find Ouray.

  “Hold up guys!”

  Slowly the clubhouse goes quiet as heads turn to Ouray.

  “We’re missing a kid. Matt. Fourteen, tall for his age, dirt
y blond hair, blue eyes. Anyone seen him?”

  A couple of voices go up. Like Wapi said, he was seen outside helping with the wood. Someone else saw him head downstairs to the basement. Another guy says he thinks he might’ve seen him walking toward the barn. During all of that I keep an eye on the group of boys standing by one of the club trucks.

  Elan and Maska almost look like they’re holding back Ezhno. My eyes scan for the youngest boy, Istu, and I find him standing close to Ouray’s son, Ahiga, who seems to be observing the group of boys as well.

  Something’s up and I nudge Ouray, lifting my chin in the boys’ direction.

  “You take those three, I’ll grab my boy and Istu,” he says, leading the way.

  The boys watch me approach and try to disperse, but one sharp shake of my head keeps them all rooted in place. Sometimes my size and menacing scowl can come in handy.

  I grab Ezhno by the arm and to the other two I snap, “In my office. Now.”

  When the door closes behind the last of them, I pin each of them with a glare.

  “Who’s gonna start talking?” Ezhno is staring at his shoes and the other two have their heads turned to him. “Don’t care if we’re here all day, I will find out what is going on.”

  I sit down behind my desk and start writing random things on a pad of paper. I have two pages full of utter nonsense when I notice Ezhno starts shuffling his feet. It’s when I turn over the next page of my notepad he finally caves.

  “He has a phone and a—”

  “Shut up,” Maska hisses. “You’re gonna get us all in trouble.”

  I look over at Elan, the quiet one, who is shaking his head while looking at the floor.

  “And a what, Elan? He has a phone and a…what? A gun? You guys knew this and didn’t tell us?”

  The boy lifts his head and looks at me long and hard, until he finally opens his mouth. “Says he’s gonna shoot one of us and we wouldn’t see it coming, he could pick any one of us off.”

  “How’d he get his hands on those?”

  “I dunno.”

  “What else haven’t you told us?” I grill him, annoyed. “You know where he took off to? Did he say anything?”

  “Not to me,” this time it’s Maska who answers. “And I hope this time he doesn’t come back.”

  Ezhno snorts. “Same here.”

  It takes me a second, but then the penny drops.

  “Whatta you mean, this time?”

  CHAPTER 26

  Trunk

  I WATCH THE boys file out of the room.

  Jesus. Wonder what Ouray found out from the other two kids.

  Before I have a chance to get out of my chair, Ouray steps through the door.

  “You got scotch or something in here?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then get your ass in my office. We’re gonna need that bottle.”

  I follow him across the hall where he steps aside to let me in, closing the door behind us. I take a seat at the big table, while he digs a bottle and two tumblers from a desk drawer. He doesn’t skimp on the scotch and shoves an almost full glass my way.

  “We’ve been had.” He raises his glass and takes a deep swig. I follow suit.

  “So it seems,” I agree, feeling the smoky alcohol burn its way down to my stomach. “Guess they told you about Matt?”

  “Mmm. My son did. Istu saw Matt sneak under a tarp in the back of a pickup truck that was leaving the compound and ended up telling Ahiga. I already have Kaga looking into finding out who the truck belongs to. See if we can track him down.”

  “Not gonna be hard for him to disappear in Durango.”

  “Maybe not, but he’ll be cold on the street.”

  “Not so sure he’ll be on the street long. Did they tell you about the phone and the gun?”

  I can tell from his reaction that’s news to him. “A fucking gun? How in hell?” He gets up and stalks to his desk, unlocking and pulling open the bottom drawer rifling through it. “None missing.”

  He walks to the door, yanks it open, and hollers for Kaga. A few seconds later his heavy footsteps come down the hall. “Chief?”

  “Check with the guys, quietly. See if anyone’s missing a gun.” He hands Kaga a key ring. “Then check up at the firing range and see if any of the lockers were broken into.”

  “What’s going on?” Kaga looks from Ouray to me and back.

  “The boys say Matt had a gun and a phone. I wanna know how that’s possible. Also send Wapi in.”

  The moment Kaga leaves, I turn to Ouray. “You should probably know this isn’t the first time the kid skipped out.” That gets his attention. “Only once before, as far as the boys know. He snuck out at night and was back when they woke up in the morning. He threatened to shoot them if they told.”

  “Fuck, what a mistake it was taking that kid in. He caused discord among the boys right from the get-go.”

  Poor Wapi: the moment he walks in the door, Ouray is up one end of him and down the other. The guy walks out of here a few minutes later with instructions to find out how the hell this could happen, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  “We all missed it,” I suggest to Ouray when he’s gone. “Wouldn’t be right to land it all on his doorstep. He works hard to get that patch.”

  “I know that, but I’m pissed now, brother. Let me have that. Been one thing after another, with no end in sight. It’s wearin’ on me.”

  I believe it. It’s all been wearing on me too. Wish I could see the end of it, but the waters just get muddier and muddier the more we tread it to stay afloat.

  By the time Honon drops me home on his way to the hospital to check in there; it’s already getting dark.

  No guns were found missing, the cops have been alerted to be on the lookout for the boy, and Wapi found a hiding place behind a loose floorboard underneath Matt’s cot. The boys were subdued the rest of the day and will have a close eye kept on them.

  Tomorrow, hopefully, we’ll have some walls going up again in the clubhouse and unless more disaster strikes, we’ll be painting after the weekend. The empty garage—which is heated—now houses the fridge and stove, as well as some of the salvaged furniture, so there’s a warm place to eat.

  Walking into Jaimie’s house, a peaceful calm settles over me after the chaos at the clubhouse. I don’t have much experience, but I’m guessing this is what coming home should feel like.

  Sandra is watching her Jeopardy and turns my way when I close the door behind me.

  “You look beat,” she says, smiling kindly.

  “That would be a correct assessment. Where is everyone?”

  “Jaimie and the boys are upstairs. We saved you some dinner, left a plate in the fridge.”

  “Thanks, Sandra. Lemme go check on them first.”

  I can hear splashing and a few giggles that sound like they’re coming from the boys, as I head up the stairs. River spots me first and slaps his hands on the water, splashing Ezrah, who’s sitting in the bathtub across from him.

  “Unk! Ba-rah!”

  “I see that, boy. You’re gettin’ everyone soaked.”

  “Mama!”

  I look at Jaimie who is smiling wide. “Ezrah taught him this afternoon. He can’t stop saying it.”

  I grin back at her. River seemed stuck on single syllables and just called James, Ma. Unfortunately he also called a lot of other things ma. “About time, Little Mama.”

  “Mama!”

  First I bend over and kiss her smiling mouth.

  “Hey, honey,” she mumbles against my lips. “Glad you’re home.”

  That warm calm I felt walking in the door settles in my bones. “Hey yourself.” I straighten up and look at the kids. “What are you two doing?”

  River garbles in response and Ezrah just grins. I try hard not to look at the angry scars on his chest and focus on his smile instead.

  It’s Jaimie who ends up answering my question. “Ezrah was helping me give River a bath, and ended up soaked, so I told him h
e could get in there with him if he wanted. He’s been trying to teach him how to wash himself, which—as you can see—has resulted in a waterfest.”

  “I see that. Need any help here? Otherwise, I’ll grab a quick shower.”

  “Do you know how to twist dreadlocks? Ezrah says they’re getting loose, but I don’t wanna mess anything up.”

  “Your nana usually twist ‘em for you, boy?” He nods. “Thinking it’s time you learn for yourself then. Shouldn’t do ‘em wet, though. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

  After my shower, when the boys are in bed, I head downstairs to get that plate from the fridge, but Jaimie already has it warmed on the table.

  “Thanks.” I sit down just as she walks over with a bottle of beer and a glass of wine for herself. “Where’s your mom?”

  “Gone up to do a little web surfing she says, but I think she doesn’t want to be a fifth wheel.”

  I put my fork down and look across the table. “Hope I don’t make her feel like that. Soon’s we know which side is up, I can be outta your hair.”

  Something slides over her expression and when she speaks, her voice sounds tight.

  “You don’t, but if you want to go, I’m sure we’ll be fine. You don’t need—”

  She stops talking when I get up and kick my chair back, before stalking around the table. “Don’t,” I growl, roughly turning, her along with her chair, so she faces me. I ignore the shock on her face and sink down on my knees in front of her.

  “I need.” Wedging myself between her knees, I snake my arm behind her and pull her close, burying my face in her shoulder. “Fuck, woman, you have no idea how much I need.”

  Her hand comes up to stroke my head, her voice whisper-quiet. “Tell me what you need.”

  I take in her vanilla scent, feel her soft curves pillow me, and soak up the love in her touch.

  “This. You.” I lift up and rest my forehead against hers, looking into those clear blue eyes. “I walk through your door and all the weight falls right off me. You’re my island in a sea of chaos. Ask me to leave and I’m gone, just don’t do it because you think I don’t need to be right here, ‘cause that’d be a lie.”

  “Then don’t tell me you can get outta my hair,” she sniffs. “I like you in my hair.” I chuckle at the pout on her face. “And besides, you’d break my baby’s heart. He thinks you hung the moon.”