by Debra Kayn
"Great," muttered Gracie, taking out her tablet. "Now, I'll have to apologize."
"Were you rude?" Clara grinned, holding the mug under the tap.
"No, but that guy with the dark hair sitting in the booth kept giving me some weird looks like I had dementia. That's not something I want any of them to think. They need to believe we're upstanding citizens and sane. But, I..."
Clara stopped filling up the fourth mug and looked at Gracie. "What did you do?"
"I might've demanded they pay for the drinks they wanted." Gracie pulled back her shoulders. "I should've realized what happened when he kept tilting his head and frowning at me."
"Eh, it's been a long time since we've been somewhere that nobody knows us. Everyone will learn." Clara lifted up the tray. "Did they order dinner?"
"Yeah...thankfully." Gracie held up the tablet. "I'll have Paxton get started now. Maybe the food will make everything right again."
Clara carried the drinks over to the table, smiled at the men, and sat each mug in front of the bikers. When she straightened, she addressed the man who'd spoken to her last time. "Sorry about the mix-up. I am Clara. The other one you talked to is my sister, Gracie. I forgot to mention to her that I owe you guys a free beer."
The man raised his brows, leaned to the right and looked behind her and then up at her again. "Twins?"
"All our lives." Clara grinned. "Stick around more, and you'll be able to tell us apart."
The man stuck out his hand. "Wayne Shaw."
Taken by surprise at his offer to forget what happened, she shook and felt her hand get swallowed up in a large, rough grasp, that had her snapping her gaze to his eyes. "Nice to meet you, Wayne."
"I'm relieved there are two of you." He let go of her hand. "You sure look like each other, but my conversation with your sister didn't feel the same as the one I'd had with you last week. For a minute, your sister—"
"Gracie." Her heart raced at interrupting him. "Her name is Gracie."
"Right." Wayne wrapped his fingers around the glass handle of the mug. "The conversation with Gracie made me wonder how I'd gotten drunk without drinking."
"I've heard of that happening. The bar, the fumes, the atmosphere." She laughed. "I'll let you guys get to enjoying your beer. Your dinner will be done soon."
The blond biker stopped whistling and held out his tatted hand before she could leave their booth. "Nice to meet you, Clara. I'm Glenn Steele."
"Oh." She hurried to shake on his introduction. "I might as well meet everyone and not be rude, huh?"
"Chuck Milburn," said the man with a shaved head sitting on a stool beside her.
The deep voice temporarily stunned her. She quickly smiled, nodding her head before turning to the last man sitting at the booth. "And, you're...?"
"Thad Bowers." He winked, which barely softened his lethal, baby-blue eyes. She could practically hear him growl before he dipped his chin and continued. "Looks like you'll be the one who has to remember names now."
"Definitely." She raised her shoulders. "It looks like the game is on. Who will remember who first?"
The men looked at her in silence. She blew out her breath, not knowing why she'd thrown out a stupid comment. The bikers made her nervous. "I'll be with you shortly."
Hurrying away, she stopped and checked on the other two men eating dinner at the next booth—who calmed her, because they were normal, non-threatening, and probably married going by their manners. Once she was sure everyone was set to enjoy their stay, she walked straight through the door into the kitchen. Her warm body needed cooling down. That was a lot of hot testosterone floating around booth number three. But not all of them made her self-conscious.
Wayne Shaw.
She spoke his name silently. There was something about the way he'd looked relieved when she'd approached the booth that settled low in her stomach. As if her showing up made him happy. Her reaction probably came from her lack of working with the public.
Before buying the bar with Gracie, she'd worked in the administration office of a large restaurant and never dealt with customers, only employees. Now she'd be going out of her way to converse with others and make them feel comfortable. She had to get past the awkwardness and settle into being part of the bar and provide a relaxing atmosphere for the customers.
And, Wayne.
She liked Wayne's attention. Though she hadn't set out to pressure him to keep coming to the bar, he'd returned. He'd remembered her. He'd shaken her hand.
Gracie approached her carrying a tray with four filled plates. "Wish me luck."
"Good luck." Clara followed her out to the main room, staying back while she attended to the bikers.
The door swung open, and three couples strolled in, looked around, and headed toward the vacant booths. She gave them time to settle in, and when they looked up, she approached the table. Five minutes later and a conversation about their job building a new apartment complex up by Lloyd Center, she delivered their dinner order to Paxton to cook.
Already, they'd served more customers at one time than they'd had since taking over the bar. She passed Gracie and high-fived her on her way out to the bar. Tonight, they'd go home satisfied and full of hope that they could pull off what they came here to do. That's all they wanted out of their new business. Following their dad's opinion that satisfaction came from working hard, honestly, and with your heart, she smiled out at the room.
Naturally drawn to Wayne, she failed to hold her surprise at finding him looking at her. He pointed to his plate and winked with a nod of approval. Her smile exploded, and she bunched her apron in her hands as pleasure warmed her. She definitely liked getting Wayne's approval. For more reasons than one.
***
From the entrance of the alley, he watched for any sign of the twins. He hoped one or both of them would come out the back door now that the bikers were inside. It was easier to watch them with nobody around. Though even the Notus Motorcycle Club failed to see him when they practically ran him off the sidewalk earlier. They never noticed him leaning against the front of the brick building. Never noticed the way he wore a coat in eighty-degree weather. Never noticed the knife tucked into the front of his pants.
They only looked through the glass windows as they approached the bar. Probably looking at the twins. He hated the attention the women received from other males. They belonged to him.
He paced the width of the deserted alley. The bikers only delayed the inevitable.
He turned and walked down the street. He'd parked his car two blocks away by an apartment building. He'd come back to the bar when the bikers were gone. Maybe tomorrow would be his lucky day.
Chapter 3
Glen laid another piece of paper on the table at Vavoom's. Wayne pushed the information toward Thad to read and tapped his finger on the sheet.
"Look it over." Wayne gritted his teeth. They were no closer to finding Annie Morgan than they were last week.
Though, they'd concluded that she wasn't located within a three-block radius of her house. Her parents, unaware of any close friends that would kidnap their daughter, passed the polygraph test they volunteered to take with the police in charge of the investigation.
Tonight, Notus MC had expanded the search, paying AirChinook Search & Rescue to search by air along the bank of the Willamette River where it merges with the Columbia River using their heat thermal equipment and spotlight. He hoped going over everything again, for the third time would clue him into something they were missing.
"Let's look at the babysitter again." Wayne rubbed his dry eyes.
"Karen Goldstein. Annie calls her Gramma G. She's fifty-seven years old, a widow, and lives three doors down from the Morgan's. She watches Annie after school Monday through Friday, and once a month, on a Saturday night, while Annie's parents have a 'date night'." Thad's leg bounced under the table, rocking the top. "When I talked to Mrs. Goldstein after the police were done questioning her, she was visibly upset. The day Annie went missing, she was
due to go to her house, and when the bus stopped, Annie didn't get off."
"Then what happened?" asked Wayne.
"Mrs. Goldstein called Mrs. Morgan and asked if Annie was sick and stayed home." Thad inhaled deeply. "Apparently, Mrs. Morgan had forgotten to call Mrs. Goldstein one other time when Annie ended up getting sick at school, and her mom picked her up early and took her to the doctor and forgot to inform the babysitter during the rush. It was the latest phone call that Mrs. Goldstein answered her cell phone at her work at...."
"Providence Hospital off I-84." Chuck leaned forward and planted his elbows on the table. "She's a nurse in the critical care unit. She works twelve hours on, twenty-four hours off. Her husband holds down the fort when the mother is working. Mr. Morgan owns his own architectural firm on Sixth Street in downtown Portland. He was at work when he received the frantic phone call from his wife. She had hoped Mr. Morgan had taken the day off early and picked the child up at school and taken her to get ice cream at Dairy Queen, something that he does a couple times a month, but usually lets everyone involved in Annie's life know ahead of time...the mom, the teacher, the babysitter."
Wayne scratched his jaw. From the outside, the Morgan family appeared loving, close, and respected. There was no struggle to pay the bills, the parents had a good relationship, and they'd vetted the babysitter.
"Did the parents provide a background check on Mrs. Goldstein?" asked Wayne
Glen shuffled through the papers in the file. "Yeah. She's a former secretary for the school district. She retired early and lived off the life insurance her husband left her at the time of his death."
"She only babysits Annie." Thad crossed his arms and put his boot on the rung of the stool.
Wayne shook his head. "Does Mrs. Goldstein have adult children who visit the house while she's babysitting Annie?"
Thad clicked the pen in his hand and wrote on the paper. "I don't believe anyone asked her, but considering she goes by Gramma G., I'm going to assume she has adult kids with children of their own."
"Pass that question along to Lieutenant Gomez and have him question her in the morning. There's nothing more we can do tonight." Wayne picked up his mug, found it empty, and looked around the table. "Anyone else want another drink before we head out of here?"
Thad looked at his phone. "Shit. It's already one o'clock."
After stopping at Vavoom's for a late dinner when darkness called a halt to their search, they'd had one beer, and then because they were all together, decided to go for a second look at the case. Wayne picked up the papers, straightened the pile, and put it in the folder. With tomorrow being Saturday and he didn't have to work at Port Loaders, he planned on getting an early start continuing to search for Annie Morgan.
He caught sight of Clara approaching the table. She stopped beside him. "I wanted to check to see if anyone wants a drink before we shut the taps down in a half hour."
He closed the folder. "We'll take four beers."
"Coming right up." Clara walked away.
He watched the strings of the apron tied behind her lower back slap her ass and stood, following her to the counter. When she rounded the bar, he leaned against the surface to get her attention. "I appreciate you not kicking us out of the booth tonight. We overstayed."
"Not a problem." She stuck a mug under the tap. "It looked like you guys were having a deep discussion and since the bar wasn't full of customers who needed a place to sit, we didn't mind you staying longer."
"I've come to Vavoom's for years. Business picks up in June when the weather gets warmer. It won't be long, and you'll have a packed bar on Friday nights." He took the beer off the tray and stayed there while she filled the next drink. She was easy to talk with.
There was nothing fake about her, and she gave off a take-her-as-she-is attitude he liked. At Forty-two years old and with what he dealt with in his life, he appreciated honesty.
Clara glanced at his chest. "Biker business must be serious business."
"Sometimes it turns out that way. During the day, I still have to earn a living, so I work at Port Loaders." He took a drink of beer and motioned his chin toward the booth his MC brothers occupied. "I spend my days parking cars on and off the ships. It's like stacking a deck of cards. Those guys over there work at the same place."
She set the last beer on the tray. "That doesn't sound too serious."
"Not at all." He chuckled. "But, it's honest work."
Her smile grew. "I respect that."
"It's away from work when we put on the vest and hop on our bikes that's hard. We...find missing persons." He rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing the reason why he felt it was important for him to tell her that bit of information. It would explain the reason why they'd taken the booth all night, but his reason seemed to be bigger. "There's a little girl missing. She's seven years old."
Clara's mouth opened and closed. He couldn't let himself think about what was happening or had already happened to the child. It'd been too long. Notus preferred knowing immediately after someone went missing. Even twenty-four hours later, which the police went by, was often too late. With Annie Morgan, they were pushing a week since her disappearance and soon the search would turn into a rescue mission to find a body if they couldn't find a valuable clue. Too many children never showed up.
"This happened in St. John's?" asked Clara, studying him closely.
He nodded.
She swallowed and her eyes filled with tears before she blinked them away. "If you need to come here and discuss things with your friends, you're welcome anytime. Day or night."
"Are you sure you want to give out that invite?" His gut tightened as her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, thinking about the offer.
Then, her eyes widened with confidence. "I haven't quite figured you out, Wayne Shaw. You ride a loud motorcycle, wear a leather vest, and hang with your buddies, but any man who would help find a little girl deserves a place to park his ass, have a beer, and get business done."
She picked up the tray and walked around the counter. He turned to enjoy the full sight of her from her red sneakers to the loosely wound hair at the back of her neck. The second he had his free time back, he was going to make sure he got to know Clara better.
"If she catches you staring, you'll scare her away," said a soft feminine voice behind him.
He glanced over his shoulder and found himself looking into the same face he had been admiring. Except, Clara's sister Gracie had a frown. "You don't give your sister enough credit. I don't think she scares easily."
"Yeah? She's my sister. I think I know her better than you," said Gracie.
"Maybe. For now, at least, but I plan to change that." He walked back to the booth.
He needed to call it a night and clear his head. Tomorrow was a new day, and he needed to find out what he was missing in the search so he could bring Annie Morgan home to her family.
Chapter 4
The sun broke the horizon an hour before the Oregon State Police showed up to assist the St. John's Police Department. Wayne stood on the bank of the Willamette River, twenty feet from where he'd found the purple and white tennis shoe. For the last ten days, he'd held out hope that Annie Morgan would beat the odds and be found alive.
"It's only a shoe, man," said Thad. "It's not a body."
"Right." Wayne shoved his hands in his vest pockets and hid his fists.
Thad kept everyone's morale from dipping in defeat. His strength came from experience. When his sister, Thalia, had disappeared and later was found murdered, he'd never once given up hope. That kind of strength weighed heavily on him, creating a diehard spirit, determination, and love.
Wayne leaned toward facts and grounded himself on statistics.
The AirChinook chopper headed back toward the site, only a half mile from the bridge and a mile from the docks. If a little girl fell into the river, the swift undercurrent could take her miles.
"Have the police called in the divers?" asked Wayne.
/> "Glen is with the parents." Thad stepped away from the water slapping at the rocks. "They got the go ahead to search the water fifteen minutes ago. It'll probably take a couple of hours to get the dive team searching."
With the sky search covered, the water search yet to begin, that only left the land. The authorities were searching for a body. He was searching for a child. That was the only reason he'd found the shoe. A shoe that wasn't wet. A shoe that could've come off Annie in a struggle.
"How deep do you think the drop off is here?" He stared down into the dark water.
Thad sighed. "Couldn't say. Nobody swims in this area. It's always been deemed unsafe. Don't know if that's because of what's under the water or the sewage draining into the water from Portland."
Wayne lifted his gaze. His body snapped to attention despite the logistics of the situation.
"What are you thinking?" asked Thad.
"The shoe. It wasn't wet. Either Annie stayed out of the water, or someone picked her up." Wayne looked up and down the river. "A boat could pull up close enough. A raft. A motorboat. Fuck, even a cruiser. Close enough if someone lifted Annie, she'd kick and struggle, afraid of the water."
"Her parents said she was afraid to swim. They had her in lessons, and she cried every time she had to go to the pool. They finally let her drop out of class." Thad raised his brows. "At seven years old, the river wouldn't attract her."
"Dammit." Wayne pulled his hands out of his pockets. "In less than four hours, someone could travel by boat from here to the Pacific Ocean and be waiting for a cargo ship heading to Mexico."
"Or, a different location. A trail the dogs couldn't follow—"
"The dogs weren't brought in because the police believe someone picked her up at school. The on-duty parking guard doesn't remember Annie getting on the bus. The bus driver verified that Annie never got on after school. Yet, her teacher said she was there all day and walked out of the classroom with the other students when the final bell rang." Wayne looked at Thad. "They need to bring in the dogs."
