Black Sheep

by CJ Lyons

  “The lady is free to go as soon as she apologizes,” Poppy said.

  Paul jerked; obviously he thought it would be the Reapers apologizing to him.

  Before he could say anything that would send the situation spiraling into violence, the noise of sirens sounded through the open door behind her. The gyrations on the dance floor had morphed into a full-fledged brawl. Nice timing.

  Amazing how fast weapons disappeared and the Reapers vanished into the crowd at the sound of cops approaching. All except Goose, Poppy, and the short man who’d held the gun on Paul. Weasel. Whom she now noticed was missing one of his lapel pins.

  Caitlyn took advantage of the disruption to step around the table and grab Paul, yank him to the door. “Go, now. I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

  He pivoted out of her grasp. “No. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

  “This is my job, Paul. You need to let me do it.” Adrenaline rushed her words as she positioned herself to cover both sides of the doorway.

  Paul didn’t move. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to come here? I knew what kind of crowd I’d be walking into. But I promised your mother I’d keep you safe.”

  Caitlyn felt a rush of shame that he’d ventured into danger because of her. She had to get him out of here before things escalated. “The best way to keep me safe is to let me do my job. And I can’t do that while I’m watching over you.” He stared down at her. Caitlyn sacrificed a precious moment of her attention to meet his gaze. “Please.”

  Finally he nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait in the car.”

  “No. My mom will be worried. You go ahead and I’ll meet you back at the VistaView.” The sirens were louder now, almost here. A beer bottle flew past, coming from the direction of the dance floor.

  Reluctantly he wove his way between the vehicles crowding the parking lot. She covered his back until he was safely in his Volvo. He pulled onto the road just as the first sheriff’s car pulled in from the opposite direction, followed quickly by two more squads and an SUV.

  Caitlyn was about to make her own escape when she heard a voice behind her. “If you’re still here tomorrow, we’ll be by to collect that apology, Special Agent Tierney.”

  Weasel. The same voice as the man who’d tackled her earlier in the evening, confirming her suspicions. Nice to meet ya. Again.

  Caitlyn turned and flipped him the bird. Just in time for a sheriff’s deputy to spot the gun in her other hand.

  “Hold it! Show me your hands!”

  * * *

  “Sheriff Markle wants to talk to you.” The deputy escorted Caitlyn from the back of his car but didn’t say a word as he walked her over to a white Tahoe emblazoned with the Balsam County Sheriff’s Department insignia.

  Markle was in his early sixties, trim except for the slightest hint of a double chin, upright posture, salt-and-pepper hair trimmed in a buzz cut. Former military, Caitlyn guessed. Local boy, returned home, settled in. And, she thought as she caught the changes in his expression when he spotted the civilians gathered in the parking lot, a born politician.

  “Do you respond to all the Friday-night drunk-and-disorderly calls, Sheriff?” she asked, getting a jump on the conversation. A frown creased his eyes but his smile never wavered. Superglued in place.

  “Only when they involve a federal agent, Ms. Tierney. Can I ask what your business here is?” Translation: Why the hell are the feds messing in my sandbox?

  “Looking for a missing person.”

  “Looking? As in the FBI is looking or you are? Because it’s customary to notify local law enforcement when you’re working a case in their territory.”

  “I’m looking. Daughter of a friend.” Not the total truth, but close enough. She handed him Lena’s photo. “Sorry, Sheriff. I planned to stop by in the morning. Had no idea tonight would be so … eventful.”

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded as if he wanted to be helpful but his eyes slit in disapproval when he glanced at the picture. “The Hale girl? Sure, I know her. Been a pain in my butt the past few years—always sending requests for information, coming down on the weekends and school breaks to pester folks who remember her dad’s case. Not that many are left—or care. Haven’t seen her for a while, though.”

  Not what the deputy who’d been keeping her company while they waited for the sheriff to arrive had said. “Your deputy mentioned that he’d seen her at the station a few days ago.”

  His shrug was larger than it needed to be. “Don’t know. We’ve got nothing to hide. You can ask my men all you want, As long as it’s not while they’re on duty.” He leaned his weight against the Tahoe’s fender. “Now, about this mess here tonight. I’m assuming you don’t want me calling your supervisors and letting them know you were involved in an assault?”

  A not-so-subtle threat. She waved it away like a stray snowflake. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, someone seems to have misinformed you. If you look at the witness statements, you’ll see that I didn’t assault anyone. I was the one who was assaulted while trying to protect a civilian. And that man”—she pointed to Goose, forcing herself not to roll her eyes at the biker’s nickname—“and several of his fellow Reapers pulled guns on me and an unarmed civilian.”

  Unfortunately Weasel was nowhere to be seen or she would have gladly fingered him as well. Markle didn’t look at Goose, instead kept his stare on her as if waiting for her to buckle.

  “I understand the recreational bikers bring a lot of tourism dollars to the county,” she continued. “I’m sure you don’t want a loose cannon among the Reapers running around threatening civilians. Not to mention the good citizens who elected you.”

  Across the parking lot, the older biker called Poppy, the one with the dead eyes, gestured to Markle as if he were the boss of Markle. Probably was. The sheriff pushed away from the Tahoe. “Thank you, Ms. Tierney. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Then he swung back to Caitlyn. This time his smile was genuine but no less menacing. “Tierney? Any relation to Sean Tierney? We were deputies together.”

  “I’m his daughter.”

  “Really? Well, how about that. Your dad was a good man, good cop.” He gave her another look of disapproval. “You’d think his daughter would have more common sense about poking a hornet’s nest. Especially with civilians around.”

  Caitlyn was silent. Already beating herself up enough, thank you very much. Not to mention looking forward to hearing it from Paul and her mother and probably Uncle Jimmy as well. But what was she supposed to do, let the Reapers get away with anything they damn well pleased?

  “Funny you looking for Lena Hale.” The sheriff stopped, waited. Forcing her to break the silence and ask.

  “Because of what her father did?”

  “No. Because her last request for information was the case file on your daddy’s suicide.” He continued past her, waving a hand over his shoulder in dismissal without turning his face to look at her. “You have a good night now. Caitlyn.”

  He said her name like she was a nine-year-old. Probably how he remembered her. And about the age she’d acted tonight, letting the Reapers get under her skin.

  Caitlyn wandered over to the Subaru and sat on its hood, thinking. Why would Lena be researching Caitlyn’s father’s death? Eli Hale had said Sean Tierney’s death had something to do with the same mysterious “they” he thought were threatening Lena, but she’d written that off as the paranoid delusions of a man incarcerated for a quarter century.

  Still, Lena was definitely missing. And the people of Evergreen were lying about her—at least some of them were. The trick would be in separating the truth from the lies.

  If Eli was right and Lena was in danger, then she’d better move fast.

  A deputy escorted Goose to his squad car and placed the Reaper into the rear seat. One obstacle out of the way, Caitlyn thought. Now to deal with the next: Paul.

  She sighed and got into the Impreza, heading toward the VistaView. She still had to sort through Eli’s papers, pla
cate Paul, and come up with a game plan to find Lena. It was going to be a long night.

  But all that wasn’t what kept her hunched over the steering wheel as the Subaru rounded the twisted curves leading up the mountain to Evergreen. It was the thought of her father, lying in his own blood, his service weapon at his hand.

  Why would Lena be investigating a twenty-six-year-old suicide?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lena’s cabin was silent and Bernie wondered if she was sleeping. He tiptoed through the front room to the walk-in closet where he’d left her. Didn’t want to disturb her. The air in the cabin was a little chilly. There was no central heat, but he’d banked the woodstove before he left yesterday. It must have gone out.

  A floorboard creaked beneath his weight. He listened. No sound from Lena, not even that crazy-mixed-up praying-hymn-singing she’d been doing yesterday. She had such a beautiful voice. Listening to her was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Fear shuddered through him—what if she’d had a reaction to the drugs? What if something was wrong?

  He fumbled for the key to the padlocked door, finally found it, twisted it in the lock, snapped the padlock off, and pulled the door open. Dust filled the air, making him sneeze. He turned on the light.

  A mountain of plaster filled the center of the closet. And the outside wall had a giant hole gouged through it.

  Lena was gone.

  Bernie stood, his breathing so hard and fast it about pulled him out of his boots. “Lena!”

  His shout swirled through the plaster dust. He turned and ran outside, circling the cabin to the hole on the side wall. Just enough snow to reveal her footsteps, thank God.

  He raced to the pickup, grabbed a flashlight, and ran back to her trail. Large, bare feet stomped over and across Lena’s trail. The chimps. If they hurt her, he’d shoot them, kill them all, he swore.

  Bernie always carried his granddaddy’s bear-hunting pistol with him when he visited the leopard. The gun was an old Smith & Wesson .44 magnum revolver, big thing, heavy, too. Although Bernie had shot plenty of game with long guns, he’d never actually aimed Granddad’s revolver at any living thing.

  The two times he’d come across black bears in close proximity he’d had a shot but just couldn’t bring himself to take it. Seemed a shame to destroy such beautiful creatures. Not without good reason, anyway. So he’d kept the revolver holstered while he and the bears had themselves a quiet conversation. Both times things ended with the bears sauntering off into the woods, ignoring Bernie like he wasn’t even there.

  Now he pulled the .44 free of its holster. Held it in one hand and the flashlight in the other as he bent low, straining to make out the tracks in the windblown snow. They led in a semicircle bounded by the tree line. Thank God, she was too smart to go into the woods. She’d be lost for sure in there, a city girl like her.

  “Lena.” He called her name again but the wind swept it away.

  An indention in the snow in the shape of a woman’s body grabbed his attention. She’d lain down. In the snow. Why? Was she hurt?

  He found no blood, just more chimpanzee tracks. A handprint—a woman’s. She’d pushed herself up, staggered onward. He followed once more then raised his head.

  The tracks led to the log cabin where the leopard was. He raised his light and saw that the door was open.

  Before he could move a woman screamed.

  “Lena!”

  * * *

  Questions spun in Caitlyn’s brain. But that was okay: Finding answers was what she was good at. Sometimes because she could see patterns and possibilities others were blind to. Sometimes because she was lucky. Mostly it was simple, pure, unadulterated stubbornness.

  Like tonight. Clearly the Reapers were involved with Lena’s disappearance. Lena must still be alive or they wouldn’t have warned Caitlyn to stop looking for her. Did they have Lena and want Caitlyn off their trail? Or were they looking for her themselves and wanted the competition gone?

  If the Reapers were involved with Lena, odds were they were also behind Eli’s death. Which meant they might have had something to do with what put Eli in prison in the first place.

  Could everything she’d believed for the past twenty-six years be a lie? What if Eli was innocent?

  A chill shook her despite the Subaru’s heater. What if her dad didn’t kill himself?

  The thought was a familiar demon, one she’d tangled with all her life. Trying to excuse Sean Tierney, to find ways to love him without being so furious that he’d abandoned them—abandoned her. Didn’t he love her enough to stay with her and Mom, face whatever he was frightened of?

  She’d learned over the years not to follow that path. It only led to heartbreak.

  But still the insidious whisper that had haunted her all her life came: Maybe he didn’t love me. Maybe I don’t deserve to be loved.

  No. She blinked hard, turned the windshield wipers up higher to fight the snow whipping through the dark outside.

  Lena didn’t have time for Caitlyn to be distracted by would’ve, could’ve, should’ve wishes from the past. As it was, the present held too many what-ifs, not enough leads.

  She pulled over into the empty parking lot of a strip mall that featured Mexican, Chinese, BBQ, and McDonald’s alongside a Korean nail joint and a Dollar Store. Something for everyone.

  Grabbed her phone and dialed. “Boone, it’s Tierney.”

  “You any idea what time it is?”

  “Shit. No. Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “No.” He sighed and she realized he wasn’t being sarcastic. “Don’t sleep much anymore. What’s up?”

  “You guys have any sets affiliated with an OMG called the Reapers?”

  “Thanks to the ATF we’ve got just about every outlaw motorcycle gang in the country represented here. Bureau of Prisons tries to spread them around, avoid trouble while they’re inside.” Like shipping the Surenos from California to do their time. “So yeah, I’m sure we got a few Reapers. They hooked up with the Aryan Nation boys as well? We got tons of those guys.”

  “I don’t know. Not exactly my area of expertise.”

  “What do the Reapers have to do with my little slice of heaven?”

  “There’s a chapter in Evergreen, Eli Hale’s hometown. I think they might be involved in the hit on him.”

  “Care to explain why? Hale never had any problems with any of the OMG guys—or the AN, for that matter. Why target him now?”

  Good question. “I’m working on it. Just see if you can find anything, would ya?”

  “Sure, because I’m Santa and it’s Christmas every day around here.”

  He hung up, leaving her in the dark with more questions than ever.

  Okay, back to tonight. It was no accident the Reapers ambushed her in her room at the VistaView. Obviously Goose had overheard her room number. Or they’d bribed the desk clerk. If they had her room number, how hard would it be to get a key?

  Maybe Weasel had tackled her from behind the door to her room? Had been inside lying in wait?

  She reran the few seconds in her mind. Didn’t feel right. He’d had enough momentum to propel her the whole way into the bedroom. Plus, it was a pretty stupid thing to do after going to the trouble of getting her room number. Assaulting a federal agent? It was sure to get her pissed off. No way they could actually believe that stunt would make her turn tail and run.

  So why had he ambushed her? Must have been to distract her. Or get her out of the room for a while.

  Which meant someone working for the Reapers had probably been in her room while she was at the clubhouse. Going through her stuff. Who knew what else? Bastards.

  At least they hadn’t gotten to Eli’s papers. Those were safely locked in the trunk of the Subaru. And she wasn’t about to let them have a chance at them. As soon as she got back, she’d grab her stuff and leave the VistaView. No, better. There was nothing in the room she needed tonight. She’d check into one of the cheap motels along 19. Go through Eli’s stuff there, keep
it safe where no one could find it.

  One problem with that plan: Paul.

  She dialed his number. “Hey, what’s taking you so long?” he answered.

  “Where are you?”

  “In our room, of course.”

  “Which room? The one my uncle gave me?”

  “Yes.” He paused. “Why? Did you not want me here? What’s going on, Caitlyn?”

  Not the place or time to hash this out. But he definitely sounded in no mood to meet her at a second-rate roadside motel, either. “Nothing. I just didn’t really care for that room.” Or for the folks who might have a key to it. “I’m almost back to the VistaView. Would you mind grabbing my bag and checking us into another room?” He was going to think she was paranoid, start asking even more questions. Then inspiration hit. “On another floor. Away from my mother?”

  She had no idea where Jessalyn’s room was, but he didn’t know that.

  “Right. Your mom.” Relief and a touch of humor colored his voice. “Okay, sure. I can do that.”

  “Don’t worry about checking out. And use your name, not mine. Text me the room number and I’ll meet you there.”

  “Will do.” She almost hung up, but he continued, “Caitlyn, we need to have a long talk about tonight. You can’t keep me in the dark like this. It isn’t right and I deserve better.”

  No denying that. Didn’t mean she was looking forward to it.

  “I’ll see you soon.” She hung up before he could say anything more.

  * * *

  Smokey’s scream jolted through Lena. She sat upright, the dim light coming through the open door barely enough for her to make out the chimp’s shadow. But more than enough to reveal the feline outline that had agitated Smokey.

  A very, very large cat. Mountain lion? Who cared, it was big and huffing like it was mad, and it stood between Lena and Smokey and the door.

  The cat lunged toward Lena. Smokey shrieked again, jumping to protect Lena. The cat swatted a paw at Smokey, but slowly, as if it was testing the chimp. Smokey dodged it easily. Lena stood, keeping the chimp between herself and the cat. Cowardly, she knew, but what choice did she have?