I take a breath and look at my father, he gives me a nod and a quick smile of encouragement.
“I was out for a drink with friends from work. Skull, that’s the name Agent Jordan was using,” I pause, but there’s no acknowledgement at all, “well, uninvited he came and joined our group at the table. I didn’t think he was interested in me at the time, but my friends thought he was, and invited him to a party on the Sunday. I hadn’t expected he’d turn up.”
“You knew the man who became known to you as Skull was a biker at that point.”
“Yes, he was wearing his cut.”
“And that was exciting? A walk on the wild side? What did you do to encourage him?”
I bristle. “I did nothing to encourage him. Quite the opposite in fact. I tried to put him off, but he was insistent. The fact he was a biker initially made me cautious. His approach struck me as strange.”
“Why strange?”
Now I shrug. “I’m older. I thought he was only about twenty, then he told me he was twenty-five. But still it seemed odd. I’m hardly what you’d think of as a biker chick.”
“Nevertheless, you entered into a relationship with him. Did the biker lifestyle appeal to you?” Booth interjects.
“Not at all,” I tell him, truthfully. “That was part of what put me off. You hear so many things about biker clubs. Men passing women around, stuff like that. Leaving aside their reputation for illegal activities. No, a biker for a boyfriend was the last thing I wanted.”
“And you told him that?”
“I probably didn’t use the exact words, but yes, that was the impression I gave him.”
“I’ll ask again,” says Booth. “Why did you agree to become his,” he consults his notes, “old lady.”
“I didn’t. Not at first. But he was persistent and encouraged me to go on a date with him, and then another and more after that. You could say he wore me down, and it became easier to say yes to exploring a relationship.”
“Are you sure it was that way around?” Forsyth resumes. “Are you certain you weren’t pursuing him?”
“I’ve enough witnesses who’ll say exactly which way around it was.”
“Bikers?” snaps Booth.
My dad growls quietly, and cuts in, “I’ve a list of names prepared for you. These people all work for the local government office in Pueblo. Ms Martins hadn’t met any other bikers at that point.”
The two agents exchange a look with each other.
I decide to stand up for myself. “The probable situation as I now know it, is for some reason, Skull needed a woman to infiltrate the club and get information which the other old ladies, particularly Violet Black, wife of David, the president, might have. On our first date, Skull went out of his way to tell me specifically the club wasn’t into illegal activities. This must have been contrary to what he believed at the time, otherwise he wouldn’t have been placed there.” Booth goes to speak, but I don’t give him the chance. “The fact is that I, as an upstanding citizen, wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the club had I known he’d had suspicions about them. He deceived me and entrapped me with false information.”
“That’s what you say now.” Booth seizes his chance. “But I offer a contrary view. You went in with your eyes open as you wanted excitement in your otherwise quite boring life.”
“Objection,” my dad throws in as though we were in a court room. “Can we please stick with the facts? You are in no position to say what Ms Martins state of mind was, nor whether she considered her life satisfactory or not. The case is she did not rush into a relationship with a biker, as will be confirmed by numerous witnesses. Agent Jordan pressured her until she accepted. They had several dates before he took her near the club. I have a list of places and dates and times they took place. There’s nothing to suggest this is the behaviour of a woman who wanted to join a biker club.”
The agents put their heads together and speak in hushed tones, Booth pointing to parts of a document in front of him.
“These dates…”
“I have a list of them,” Dad puts in, sliding over a piece of paper. “There will be receipts I’m sure, unless Agent Jordan didn’t expense them.”
“Agent Jordan claims you were enthusiastic about getting to know about the club. That bikes had always intrigued you, and that you hinted their illegal activities excited you.”
“Look at me,” I cry out. “Do I look like a woman who’d ever think she’d be comfortable riding a bike?”
“How did you get to Denver?” Booth asks.
“I drove, in my car,” I reply honestly. With the forecast of snow Pyro didn’t want to risk either of us on his motorcycle.
“But it’s true you regularly ride on your boyfriend’s bike?”
I’m getting annoyed. “I do now, but back then I thought my weight would unbalance it. It was riding with Skull that showed me I could enjoy it. When he first picked me up and expected me to ride I was horrified.”
“So you say now,” Forsyth mumbles.
Dad gives me a little shake of my head. Don’t get emotional, he’d told me. They’ll try to trip you up.
Now it’s my father who steps in. “Getting back to the illegal activities you mentioned. Are you saying Skull briefed Ms Martins on things that he suspected were going on in the club? If he’d found no evidence before he met her, any information in that vein would have been false, and another example of how he set out to entrap her. I don’t need to have the relationship I do with Ms Martins to know any such discussion would have sent her running. Again, I refer you to my list of witnesses who can all attest to her character. Ms Martins hasn’t had so much as a speeding ticket in her life.”
I want to high five my dad but restrain myself.
Dad’s got the bit between his teeth. “Agent Jordan took Ms Martins to the club under false pretences, that is undeniable. Then he commenced a sexual relationship with her where he undertook responsibility for contraception, a responsibility he neglected on two occasions, the second resulting in a pregnancy, unwanted by him, but wanted by Ms Martins who’d been led to believe, by the fact he publicly claimed her, that he was in a long-term and permanent relationship with her.”
As Dad lays it on the line, both agents make a move forward, but he doesn’t let them speak.
“Agent Jordan disappeared. Ms Martins had to assume, as the months passed, that as the man she knew had given her every expectation he’d return to her that day, that he was lying dead. She was pregnant and alone, suffering devastating grief.”
“She went back to the outlaw motorcycle gang. Not the action of an upright citizen.”
“She went back to the motorcycle riding club,” Dad corrects, “who might call themselves outlaw for historical reasons, but the fact is, nowadays they engage in no criminal activities. They regard themselves as a family. Skull, or Agent Jordan as we now know, was accepted as one of their members. They were grieving too, so it was natural they took Ms Martins in, so they could grieve together. They are good men and women who stood up to offer support to who they saw as one of their own. Ms Martins wasn’t a girl who’d walked in off the street, she was a claimed woman of one of their members and had been treated as family. I think that’s the actions of any woman who found herself in such dire circumstances, seeking support from those around her. Seeking out the company of people who were also trying to make sense out of the bizarre and distressing situation she’d found herself in. They were seeking their brother, her man. They were in the best position to help her.”
“What methods were they using to try to find him?”
“They reported him missing to the cops.” I shut any idea they were doing anything illegal down. If they were, I didn’t know about it. “If the cops knew he was alive and well and working for the FBI, they never fed that information back to us. They never said a word to ease my grieving.” I add fast, “I didn’t know he was married, nor that when he’d left me, he’d returned to his wife and child.”
S
aying it aloud makes me start shaking. Dad sees, twists the cap off a bottle of water, fills a glass, and passes it across.
“When I found that out… If I’d known,” I try again, “I wouldn’t have gone anywhere near him. It’s one matter to represent himself with a different identity, quite another to hide that his lies about commitment were just that, lies. He wasn’t free to make any promises.”
Booth and Forsyth exchange a look between them.
Forsyth is the one to speak. “When undercover, our agents have to become the person they’re representing. If it had been expected…”
“Skull didn’t have to fuck anyone or could have gone with a club girl if he couldn’t keep it in his pants, or had a relationship and never taken a woman to the club. The club rules do not demand a member fucks, and the brothers don’t question whether a man wants to remain celibate.”
“You’re being very blunt,” Booth notes scathingly. “Is your language because you spend time with bikers?”
“My language is because I thought Skull and I had made love. That our baby came to be as a result of an expression of the emotion we both shared. But to him, it was just fucking. I was used, in circumstances where I wouldn’t have given my consent had I known who he truly was, and certainly if I’d known he had a wife waiting on him.” I pause then cry out, “Have you any idea what that feels like? I’m no cheater, would never have dreamed of going with a man who was already taken. But he made me into the other woman.”
“You sure the baby was his?”
As I gasp in air, the expected question strangely taking me by surprise, Dad passes another piece of paper across. “We used DNA from his toothbrush, but you can redo the test if you want. A DNA sample is also in storage at the hospital where the child was… delivered.”
“When I found out he wasn’t dead, but alive and living with his family, I miscarried.” I tell them what they’ll already know, bluntly. Then again, without giving them a chance to speak or voice their own objection, “Oh, I know mental distress can’t be proven as the cause of the miscarriage, but the timing fits. I found Skull, found out the truth, and… my baby stopped breathing.”
My head falls into my palms. Then, when I raise it and reach for some more water, I spill it as my hands are violently shaking.
“Do you need a moment?” Booth asks, for the first time his eyes lose a little of their hardness.
Dad’s brow is creased, and while it might not be the professional front he wanted to present, he reaches over and lays his hand on top of mine. “You okay?”
I take a deep breath and work on calming myself down. “I’d prefer to get this over with.”
“I take it you’ve seen Ms Martins is suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?” Dad asks to buy me some time. “There’s a report there from the psychologist who’s been treating her. There obviously is no evidence that the stress from Skull’s disappearance then reappearance caused her to miscarry. But it had such an effect that she’s still continuing to suffer the loss of self-esteem and self-confidence, with the result she has heightened anxiety. Those are the facts. What seems irrefutable to any reasonable person is that such distress could have contributed, if not caused, her miscarriage. The effects of the psychological torture imposed on Ms Martins will probably remain with her for life.” He pauses before delivering the punch line. “The psychologist’s report is evidence Agent Jordan failed to protect a civilian from harm. In fact, he inflicted it.”
The agents also take the opportunity to drink some water.
“You have one of the bikers living in your house, Ms Martins,” Forsyth observes, breaking the silence that had fallen.
“How… how do you know that?”
He just raises an eyebrow. Stupid. He’s the FBI. They must have had someone checking me out.
I glance at Dad, he raises his chin, then lowers it again.
“When Skull disappeared, I was distraught. I’d never felt that kind of hurt before. All the brothers stepped up, but Pyro, well, he was like my rock. He was there when I discovered I was pregnant. From that point on, he did what he could to make my life easier.” I swallow, trying to put it into words. “At first it was a duty to the brother who had disappeared. That’s what these bikers do, make sure family is cared for. Being together so much, our relationship changed.”
“I’d like to point out, Ms Martins was essentially a single woman at that point. Her man had gone, and as time passed, he was unlikely to return.”
“So, you started a physical relationship with this… Pyro?”
I shake my head at Forsyth and deny it. “No. Although my feelings changed toward Pyro, I was still carrying the baby of another man. Our relationship didn’t develop that way until after I’d found out the truth about Skull, and after I’d recovered from the miscarriage. I did not hop from one man’s bed to another.”
Booth leans forward. “Part of your case is that Agent Jordan drew you, an innocent woman, into a life of crime. Seems like you didn’t need a lot of encouragement, and after you entered it, you stayed.”
“Objection.” Dad raises his hand. “Skull assumed it was a life of crime as you call it. What Ms Martins discovered was something entirely different. She found a club based around the concept of family. That’s why she stayed, and why Agent Jordan left. He left because he found the premise he’d been working on was false. He clearly found no evidence of wrongdoing.”
“And how do you come to that conclusion?” Booth won’t give up.
“Because there have been no charges.” Dad shifts impatiently as though he shouldn’t need to teach them their jobs. “It’s well over ninety days since the investigation was brought to its abrupt end. As you are aware, any charges must be brought within that time, unless you’re going to insist the investigation is ongoing. In any event, our argument stands. Agent Jordan recruited Ms Martins as he thought she would lead him to what he believed was the truth, and therefore inducted her into the criminal world, or that’s how he saw it at the time.”
Forsyth isn’t giving ground and he proves it when he takes over again. His voice is stern. “And we refute that. Kidnapping is a crime. The Satan’s Devils have a chapter in Vegas do they not?”
What? Oh, shit.
I hope I’m hiding my reaction as he continues. “Agent Jordan has told us his wife was kidnapped,” he looks down at his notes, “by members of the Las Vegas club and also four members of the Pueblo chapter.”
But Dad’s there. “I am unaware of any kidnapping. The man who impregnated Ms Martins and so callously left her had just been found. Of course, she wanted answers. Clare Jordan was invited back to the compound, and Agent Jordan invited to join her. Not a hair on either of their heads was harmed.”
“That’s not how Agent Jordan relates it. No invitation was extended, force was involved.”
“Have you asked Mrs Jordan for her interpretation of the events?”
As Dad asks the question, I hold my breath for the answer, hoping Clare’s stayed true to her word.
There’s silence for a moment, then Forsyth admits, “Mrs Jordan confirms your story, saying she wanted answers herself, but Agent Jordan remains adamant on the point.”
“I suggest Agent Jordan has a vested interest in making the club look bad,” Dad, who I’ve brought up to speed with our visit to Vegas, suggests. “You’ve more witnesses to say otherwise.”
“Are they still together?” I ask. Pyro had suggested we don’t let on I’ve seen her, and it seems a question they’d expect me to ask.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“So there’s nothing to back up this story of kidnapping,” Dad states. “Unless you have evidence, it’s the word of your man against a number of others, including, it would seem, his wife.”
They don’t like it, but don’t contradict him. After a moment the two heads bow together. Then Forsyth looks up. “Please wait here.”
They leave the room.
“How do you think
it’s going?” I ask, my eyes watching the closed door.
“You’re telling the truth, Melissa. That’s all we can do.”
I notice my father staring at something, then his eyes go to the recording device which hadn’t been turned off. They’re watching and listening.
Taking his cue, I say nothing more. The clock ticks loudly and counts off the minutes. I know exactly nine of them have passed before the two agents return.
They don’t bother taking their seats.
“Thank you very much for coming in, Ms Martins, Mr Martins. We will consider what you have told us today and give you our written response as soon as we can.”
“Just before we leave,” Dad doesn’t yet stand, “I have requested all documentation and any photographic evidence you might have which refers to or shows Ms Martins. I trust that will be delivered to my office without delay.”
Again, they exchange looks. I’d say they look uneasy. After a few seconds have passed, Forsyth nods his head. “Of course, Mr Martins.”
They’re obviously waiting to escort us out of the building.
Pyro’s out front. “How did it go?” His anxious eyes flick from me to Dad.
I make a seesawing gesture with my hand. “Hard to tell.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Pyro
Mel looks like she’s been put through the wringer. I’ve been questioned by the cops before—what biker hasn’t?—so I know how challenging that can be. The police get you going around in circles and try to trip you up and make you contradict yourself.
“Let’s get you home.”
“We’ll meet you there,” I tell her father.
We’ve arranged to stay with her parents overnight and head back in the morning. I think both Rufus and I knew exactly how hard this would be for her. We knew she would be dredging everything up in front of people who don’t want to believe her.
Devil's Dilemma: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #4 Page 34
