Purge (Death Crusaders Motorcycle Club)

by Sandy Kline

  “Hey…you okay Clarkson?”

  I’m not, not by a long shot but I nod anyway.

  “No you’re not.” She replies. “I knew this was a bad idea.”

  “I’m…I’m okay…just give me a moment.”

  The picture on top of the pack is of Alex lying on the sidewalk on her back. She has been shot at least once in the forehead just above her left eye. The hole is small but there’s a sizeable pool of blood surrounding her head. The really awful part is that to the side where her hair is spread out, I can see bits of white; maybe bone, maybe brain matter. I can’t tell which. Suddenly my stomach begins roiling. Frantically I reach for the door handle and barely get the door open before vomiting on the sidewalk. I retch over and over again and before my stomach calms down I am having dry heaves. My stomach aches and my throat is raw. My nose is clogged with detritus and my mascara is streaming down my face along with tears. And here I thought I had cried it all out.

  To her credit, Officer Regan waits patiently for me to get my bearings, then hands me back the file. I don’t want to see the other photos but I force myself to look anyway. I don’t want to miss a single thing here. There’s not much actually. Just a lot of pictures of her from various angles, the coroner’s report, and pictures of the bullet casings; seven of them from two different guns. There’s three from the same 9mm gun and four from a Glock 40mm. The head shot was from the Glock and so was the thigh. Apparently the Glock was never found but the suspect was convicted on an eye witness account alone. But when I look for any information on the eye witness the pages have been removed.

  “What’s up with the witness?” I ask Officer Regan.

  “Witness was a juvenile so her records were sealed and she disappeared after testifying.”

  “Of course she did.” I reply. “But I may be able to get some information for you.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m working on getting the name but the detective on the case is not convinced he should give up the information. He’s afraid the case will be reopened and it’ll be found that he missed something important.”

  “You mean important like getting the wrong guy?” I interrupt.

  “He doesn’t want to lose his pension over this.”

  “Seriously…that’s his only concern? Where do you guys get people like this?”

  “You got twenty more minutes. You wanna use up your time like this?”

  I burry my nose back in the file. Clearly it’s a cover up and they didn’t even try to disguise it. All I have to do is find the witness and convince her to change her testimony. There’s one more thing that I almost missed. In the middle of the description of what happened you can tell that a piece of paper was laid down covering a middle third of the document. You can see a faint shadow. It’s like when you lay a paper down and Xerox it it leaves a faint line around the paper if you don’t have it flat on the paper. I could swear that someone took the original document and doctored it and slipped the fake document back into the file. Whoever did this was so brazen they didn’t care enough to thoroughly cover their tracks. After a few minutes I close the file and hand it back. I’ve seen enough and I’m not going to tell her what I found either; just in case I can’t trust her. I call for a taxi and we chit chat while we wait. Fifteen minutes later my ride pulls up.

  “You’ll call me with that name and address?” I ask as I get out of her car.

  She nods so I get in the taxi. “Lucky Rabbit’s Foot.” I tell the cabbie as we pull out into traffic.

  Chapter Ten

  “My Name is Officer Shaw!”

  A sudden piercing alarm stabs into me through the thick veil of sleep. I bolt upright in terror wondering what the hell the noise is. Looking around the room frantically I spot the bluish glow from my cell phone. I crawl out of bed and stumble across the cold floor to the desk and snatch up my phone.

  “What happened?” I bark.

  For anyone to be calling me in the middle of the night something has to be wrong.

  “I have something for you.”

  “Who is this?” I ask, still half asleep.

  “Who do you think? Who else calls you on this phone?”

  “It’s 3:45 in the morning. I had no idea which phone was ringing when I picked it up.”

  “Well it’s me now are you awake, because I have to be fast.”

  “Yes I’m awake.”

  “Good. You need to talk to a Detective Jack Morris. His address is 4555 Lone Pine Road in Whispering Pines.”

  “He’s the witness? I thought you said it was a minor.”

  “He’s the detective that worked the case. He was the lead detective. He’ll know the witnesses name and maybe even her whereabouts. She was never officially in the witness protection program so someone will know how to find her and I believe that someone is Detective Morris. You got all that?”

  “Yeah, what’s the hurry?”

  “Now take out the sim card and break it in half and flush it down the toilet and then go somewhere and drop the phone in the garbage.”

  “What? What are you talking about? Am I in some kind of trouble?”

  “Not immediately, but I am. Just do what I asked.” She says.

  “Will I ever talk to you again?”

  “Maybe…I’ll tr—”

  A sudden explosion fills my ears and is so loud I have to hold the phone away from my head.

  “Regan…Regan!” I shout into the phone. “Regan what happened? Regan…”

  I hear crunching of what sounds like glass, then wrenching metal. Lots of glass and metal. I actually sounds like a car accident; from the inside and I wonder if Regan has just gotten herself in an accident.

  “Officer Regan? Were you in an accident? Officer Re-”

  “Who is this?” Says a deep masculine voice. “Look, whoever you are, you might as well tell me your name because I’ll find out eventually so why not save me some time and you some trouble by telling me who you are and what you mean to Officer Regan?”

  Then after a long pause. “Really? You’re just going to stay there and breathe? I wonder if Officer Regan is still alive. Shall we check?”

  He stops talking to me and I hear two other voices in the background conferring with each other. After another moment he comes back to my phone.

  “Okay whoever you are, I’m going to ask our friend here to identify you. Officer Regan, why don’t you tell me who you were talking to just a moment ago?”

  There’s a pause, then a painful groan.

  “Yow…that looked painful. Shall we do it again?” He asks.

  I hold my breath like I’m afraid he’ll be able to identify me by my breathing.

  “Okay.” He says.

  There’s a pause then Officer begins to scream.

  “Stop!” I shout into the phone. “Stop hurting her.”

  Regan’s scream drops to a low keening. She is very obviously hurt, and hurt bad.

  “Now…are you going to tell me who you are or do I have to really get mean here?” He asks me.

  “Officer Shaw.” I lie.

  “What’s your first name and badge number Officer Shaw?”

  “My name is Officer Belinda Shaw. My badge number is 4812 and I work out of Whispering Pines North.”

  “Well Officer Shaw, tell me something. What is the 10 code for officer needs assistance?”

  “10-13” I say with confidence. In truth I have no idea if I’m right or not.

  “Nice try. Too bad Officer Regan is going to have to pay for that one.”

  Almost immediately I hear a painful groan followed by a sharp cry of pain.

  “Stop!” I scream. “I’ll tell you.”

  “Well that’s better.” Says the voice.

  “Nooooo…” Officer Regan screams. “Don’t say a thing.”

  “Tell me y our name or she’s gonna pay.” The menacing voice threatens.

  This is killing me. More like it’s killing Officer Regan.

  “Tell me you’re fuckin
g name!” Thunders the evil voice. “Tell me or I’m gonna gut her like a fish. You understand? You’re no cop. You don’t know the ten codes.”

  “That’s the code in New Hampshire for Officer Needs Assistance. I have no idea what California uses for a 10-13.”

  “Okay…explain to me the chain of custody of evidence.”

  Oh shit. “It’s the written log of everyone who has had physical control of evidence from the crime scene to the evidence locker in the police station. It establishes proof that the evidence taken from the crime scene is the same evidence used in court.”

  “Nice try.” Says the voice.

  “But I’m right!” I shout angrily. “Don’t you touch her you animal. I was right.”

  “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my line of business is how to smell out a cop and you’re not a cop. You obviously know a thing or two so maybe you’ve grown up around cops or even considered being one and did some studying maybe, but you’re no cop. I’d stake my life on that.”

  I decide to just try to barrel over him. “I am Officer Shaw of-”

  “You are a fucking liar!” Booms the man’s voice. A minute ago you said you were Officer Shaw out of the Whispering Pines North office and a second ago you said you knew the New Hampshire 10 code but not the California one.”

  Oh shit! Why the fuck did I say that?

  “Tell me your name now Mother fucker!” He screams so loudly I have to hold the phone away from my ear and still they ring.

  “My name is-”

  “No!” Screams Officer Regan. “Don’t say a fucki-”

  The loud boom from a gun silences Officer Regan mid-sentence and send my ears vibrating painfully into my skull. I can’t believe it. Officer Regan is dead because of me. I can’t believe this.

  “So Officer Shaw,” The man says. “Are you going to tell me your name now?”

  “Go to hell mother fucker!” I shout at the top of my lungs just before slamming my phone down on the floor.

  I can’t believe this is happening to me. The one person helping me solve the murder of my best friend is now dead because of me. Why didn’t I just tell him my name? What the fuck is my problem? Who else is going to die because of me? Piper is in the hospital because of me and when he gets out he’ll surely die trying to protect me the next time I get into trouble. I need to do this on my own. I need to find that detective and get him to tell me who and where the witness is. Of course he’s not going to want to tell me for fear that he gets in trouble for screwing up. I feel like the lowest of the low. I bet Alex even got killed because of me somehow.

  I’m two hours into my pity party when the front door opens. It has to be Blade. Quickly I gather up my cell phone and battery that had popped out and I jam it into my jean pocket. I wipe the tears off my face and immediately wonder why I feel the need to hide what’s going on from Blade? Isn’t he one of the people I can trust? If not him who?

  Blade walks into the kitchen and immediately he senses something is wrong. He walks right up to me and puts his arms around me.

  “What’s wrong babe?”

  I just shake my head, not trusting myself to speak.

  “Come on, I know something is bothering you. This place feels like a funeral home. Did someone die?”

  I can’t speak. Instead I just bury my head in his chest and cry helplessly…..

  “Who died Jen? Was it your mother?”

  “I wouldn’t shed a tear over her dead body,” I spit out. “But it wasn’t her.”

  I lay my head on his chest again hoping he would take the hint that I don’t want to talk. After a few minutes my mind begins to quiet and the effects of his close proximity begins to waken my other senses.

  Soon my tears dry and my sniffling turns into nuzzling and my nose inhales his masculine scent. Slowly I begin to kiss my way up his chest to the base of his neck. A long finger touches the base of my chin then lifts gently. Our lips meet and passions collide. That’s all the invitation either of us needs to give the other and it becomes a frenzy of hands tearing at clothes, desperate to access our naked flesh.

  “Are you sure?” He asks between a hot streak of kissing.

  “Are you crazy?” I ask, pulling his head down to mine again where I proceed to assault his lips with my own.

  Shortly he swoops me off my feet and we move our sudden lovemaking session to a more appropriate locale; his bedroom.

  He tosses me on this soft mattress and meets my bouncing body with his where he mashes my soft frame with his hardened physique. But he still seems a bit restrained. Perhaps he’s remembering I was crying just moments ago.

  “We don’t have to.” He advises.

  “Oh yes we do Sean.” I say using his given name for a rare change.

  “I like it when you say that.” He confesses.

  “Well it is your name.”

  “Do old ladies get a club name?” I ask suddenly pausing amidst our sex play.

  “Have you been given another name?” He asks me with a sly smile.

  “Are you telling me I’m your old lady?” I ask, stunned.

  Actually I don’t know why I should even be surprised. It’s not like he’s sleeping with anyone else and we have shared a lot more than each other’s bed.

  “As old as they come.” He replies with another smile.

  “That’s not the kind of old I meant.” I snap playfully.

  “And that’s not kind of lady I meant either.” He says between bites on the tip of my nipple.

  “Better not be old man.” I reply slapping him on the shoulder.

  And then because the night’s events are creeping back into my consciousness I grab Blade’s pride and joy, massaging it close to eruption before settling my hips down onto his. He reacts immediately thrusting almost violently and just about unsettling me. Our sensuous, playful lovemaking has become a contest of wills; pushing, pulling, giving and taking until both of us collapse back into each other’s arms hot, sweaty, and sweetly exhausted.

  Just before sleep takes me my mind wanders back to Officer Regan and her last night on earth and how I just christened her death with a shower of cum.

  Chapter Eleven

  4555 Lone Pine Road

  (Consequences)

  Blade did not want to loan me his truck. I don’t blame him either because I wouldn’t tell him what I was up to either.

  “I need to run an errand.” I tell him first thing in the morning.

  “Okay, I have church in an hour and then I’ll come get you and we can go together.”

  “I need to go now.”

  “What? Are you telling me you have an errand that won’t wait an hour?”

  “Are you telling me that your church is only going to last one hour?”

  “Okay 90 minutes. Shirley you can wait an hour and a half right?”

  “Wrong. Just give me your truck and I’ll be back after lunch.”

  “What if I need it?”

  “You have how many brothers here and you can’t bum a ride? Or ride your motorcycle? You’re a biker no? Ride your damn bike already.” I demand.

  “Why do you need to go on this errand so bad?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do, but I’m also the President of the Death Crusaders. I don’t ask I tell. No one tells me what to do and no old lady argues with me; especially not mine.”

  “Oh enough already.” I snap. “Is your ego that fragile that you can’t allow me to win one argument and get my way?”

  That shuts him up. If he argues with that he can’t win and he knows it so he tosses me his keys. I smile impishly and walk off swinging my hips seductively.

  “Hey, you can’t walk like that and just leave me here like this.”

  “You got a right hand don’t you?” I challenge.

  He gives me the finger playfully and storms off to church. I continue my prancing across the gravel driveway much to the delight of the half dozen bikers who are arriving for the meeting. Blade drives a 200
6 Ford Explorer. I like it. It’s big, red and badass. I type in 4555 Lone Pine Road on his GPS and take off. I get about ten miles down the road when I realize I have no game plan. I guess I’m just going to show up and wing it. According to his Garmin it will take me exactly 87 minutes to get there. It also occurs to me that I should be taking Piper but I don’t think he’s even out of the hospital yet. As I wind my way into danger my mind wanders back to Officer Regan. I have to believe they were going to kill her anyway and her death is not on my hands. I also don’t believe that. At least not yet I don’t. When I’m about ten miles out I really begin to get stressed. What happens in a few minutes is going to determine whether or not I find the only witness to Alex’s murder. I have to find this girl!

  Before long my being stressed turns into my being frantic. This was a stupid thing to do. It’s also my only play so I better just do it. I stop a quarter mile from the Detective’s house and take out Piper’s gun. I think it holds something like fifteen rounds, maybe more and I only used one so I should have at least fourteen. I stuff it in the back of my pants and immediately regret it. How do they do this on TV all the time? It’s freaking uncomfortable. I take it back out and stick it in my purse. Fortunately his house seems to be nestled in a grove of trees so it makes my approach pretty easy. As I get nearer I begin to ask myself some important questions like how many people live here. What if he’s got a wife and kids here? What if his cop buddies are all hanging out here? No, probably not at this time of morning. It’s nine thirty. He’s spent twenty-seven years working nights. Chances are he’s kept to that routine and is fast asleep. I understand he retired this year so it’s doubtful he’s changed his sleeping patterns yet. Using the cover of the trees I’m able to get within about thirty feet of his backdoor. He’s got a doggie door. It looks like an old one. I might even be able to reach my arm in and unlock his door. Wouldn’t that be nice? What if he’s got a pit bull in there? Man. I really should have planned this out. I get about ten more steps when I get a really bad feeling. I start to turn around but it’s too late.