by Jessie Cooke
“I was just going to get one of my cards…”
“Just talk. Who are you?”
“My name is Geoffrey St. Martin. I’m looking for Chelsea Roberts.”
“What do you want with her?”
“I’m an attorney. A public defender for the state of Massachusetts.”
“Pretty fancy fucking watch for a PD.”
He laughed, nervously. “The wife bought it for me. Miss Roberts, can you please put the gun down?”
“I never said I was Chelsea.”
“Well, Wayne has shown me pictures.” Chelsea’s stomach knotted at the sound of Wayne’s name and she could taste the bile in the back of her throat.
“I’m going to ask you one more time…What. Do. You. Want?”
“I have some papers from Wayne that I was hoping you could sign for me.”
“Papers? What kind of papers?” She and Wayne didn’t own anything, and they weren’t married, so what the hell would he need her to sign? She hadn’t even taken any of his calls from prison. He’d stopped calling two years ago.
“Can we talk…?”
“What. Kind. Of. Papers?”
“Paternity papers Miss Roberts. They’re papers Wayne needs to present to the courts. They say he’s not…” At that moment Chelsea saw the dust stirring up on the road that led from the main highway to the ranch. Someone else was coming. Keeping one eye on the guy with his hands still up, she watched the car get closer. It was a white SUV. Her father’s car. It sped up at the last minute, probably when they were close enough to see what was going on at the house. Her dad pulled up right behind the van, slammed the car into park, and jumped out. He left the door open, and she heard her mother say:
“Reed! No!”
The next thing Chelsea heard made her drop the gun, forget the lawyer, and run toward the car with tears in her eyes,
“Mama!” While her father confronted the man in the suit, and Bella returned to trying to chew off one of his legs, Chelsea picked her sweet baby boy up in her arms and hugged him into her chest. It had been over two weeks since she’d seen him, and she would swear he’d grown an inch. “Mama, you’re squishing me.” With tears streaming down her face, she loosened her grip and pulled back so she could see his beautiful face.
“I’m sorry, baby boy. I just missed you, so much.”
15
Seven hours after leaving Dixon, the guys pulled up to a diner in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Chopper was slightly annoyed when he saw that Garrett had his turn signal on, but he knew that he was being irrational. They’d been riding hard and they’d only stopped once for gas. They deserved a break, and lunch.
The diner was a little place called “Rollin’ Pin.” It sat next to the Motel 6 and looked a little like a Denny’s or an IHOP from the outside. Chopper was determined to stay grumpy and pass on food, right up until they walked inside. The smells that were coming from the kitchen made his stomach rumble and he decided as long as they were there, he might as well eat. Zack picked the table and the second the waitress saw him, she rushed right over. Chopper wondered if it was even her section. She giggled a lot, barely took her eyes off Zack even though Goliath was sitting next to him, and every time she approached the table, she did a little hair-fluff thing. Chopper never had problems getting women, but they also never fell all over themselves and everyone else to get him. He wondered what it would feel like, and if it would be hard to resist all that attention.
He had a lot of respect for Zack. He heard some stories about what he was like before he met his old lady. Some crazy, kinky stories. But anyone that knew Zack now, even as hard to resist as the ladies seemed to find him, might not believe any of that. He was one of the most devoted family men that Chopper had ever met, and the little boy he was raising with his old lady wasn’t even his biologically. He still flirted of course, and because he traveled so much there were disappointed women all across America. When they finished their lunch and Chopper looked at the ticket their waitress, Debbie, left on the table, he figured they could count her as one more. She’d written her name and number at the bottom of the ticket and circled it in a heart.
Chopper rolled his eyes and handed it to Zack and said, “Looks like this is for you.”
Zack glanced at it and looked over at Debbie, who was standing behind the counter, trying to pretend like she wasn’t watching. He waved her over and destroyed that myth—she practically vaulted the counter. When she got to the edge of the table Zack pulled out his wallet. Taking the ticket out of Chopper’s hand he held it out to her and then handed her two twenties before saying, “I’m sorry, darlin’, sometimes the tattoo ring is hard to see. I wouldn’t want you waiting by the phone.” She looked at the hand he was holding out. On the ring finger of his left hand he had a red and gold tattoo that looked like barbed wire, and in the center of it was an L and a Z. The waitress looked embarrassed and said:
“I’ll get your change.”
“I don’t need change, darlin’. The service was great. That change is for you.”
She looked at him from underneath her long eyelashes and smiled. “That’s so sweet, thank you.” Even after being rejected, she was still obviously infatuated.
Chopper looked at Garrett and as the girl walked away Garrett shrugged and said, “I don’t see it either.”
Zack laughed. “I gotta take a piss before we go. Come with me, you’ll see it.” Garrett laughed and gave him the middle finger. Zack looked at Chopper and said, “What about you, little man?”
“Nah, I didn’t bring my glasses with me and I’m farsighted.”
Zack threw his head back, laughed, and flipped them both off as he got up to go to the bathroom. Garrett and Chopper went out front to wait for him and as soon as they stepped out of the restaurant, Garrett’s phone rang. Chopper kept walking until he heard Garrett say, “Brown leather jacket? Yeah, that sounds like him. Is he still there?” Chopper felt a tickle of excitement in his chest until Garrett spoke again: “Fuck, how long ago did he leave?” Chopper was straining his ears, but he couldn’t hear what was being said and it was killing him as he waited. After what seemed like forever Garrett said, “Alright, man, thanks a lot.” He ended the call at the same time that Zack walked out the front door. Zack looked at both their faces and said:
“What did I miss?”
“I’m not sure,” Chopper said. He knew Garrett was ex-Special Forces, and he was not just good at that job, but great thanks to the way he carefully considered everything, even what he was going to say next. But at that moment, if Chopper had a fucking ladder, he’d climb up and strangle the information out of him. At last Garrett said:
“That was Miller Time. He’s a nomad with the Vipers. He said that this dude just left his garage with a guy in a silver van. He had one of his guys follow them. They just pulled into the Park Ridge Shopping Center about five minutes ago.”
Chopper was thinking that it was more like ten minutes now that they’d waited for Garrett to get it out, but he took a deep breath instead of blurting out that stupid shit and said, “Where?”
“It’s on Western—come on, I know where it’s at. They said he just got out of a silver van parked in front of H&M. The driver is still in the van.” They all jumped on their bikes and Zack and Chopper let Garrett take the lead. Chopper felt like he was about to jump out of his skin, especially when they turned into the parking lot and he spotted the silver van. Unfortunately, the driver of the van spotted them too. He must have just been on the lookout for bikers on Harleys because before they were even close enough for him to see the “Skulls” on their kuttes, he was backing up. Garrett tried cutting him off, but the dude wasn’t going to stop, and Garrett had to move at the last second to keep from getting plowed over. Garrett went after him, but Chopper and Zack parked the bikes right where he had been parked and they both jogged into the mall. Once inside, they split up and Chopper remembered, just about the time Zack was out of sight, that he still hadn’t gotten his hands on a gun. He
did have his knife, though, if things came to that. He started going in and out of each store, looking for the brown jacket. Whoever had spoken to Garrett on the phone had mentioned it. Chopper remembered the brown leather jacket clearly. It was a bomber type jacket and it looked well-used.
He’d gone in and out of at least five stores by the time he reached the end of the mall. He was getting more frustrated by the second, thinking of all the possible places this guy could have exited. When he reached the end, he started over, going back into the same stores he’d already been inside of, checking the kiosks in the middle of the mall, and finally checking the men’s and family bathrooms in the center. He didn’t even spot anyone that looked remotely like the man he was looking for, and he was getting more and more pissed off. He started heading toward the other end of the mall but ran into Zack who was coming toward him from the food court.
“I checked all the way to the other end twice, man. I didn’t see him.” Chopper wasn’t sure how long they’d been looking, but it had to be close to an hour at least.
“Have you heard from Garrett?”
Zack pulled out his phone and looked at it. “Yeah, it looks like he texted me. Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“He got pulled over. The guy in the van did not. Fucker’s gone. The good news is that Garrett got a license plate number, so hopefully it’s not a rental.”
“Fuck. We’re never going to get this guy,” Chopper said.
“Keep the faith, man, we’ve had two spottings in 48 hours—that’s pretty damned good. This sucks, but at least it was a good time for it to happen…if there ever was one. We got friends and brothers all spread out ahead of us. Someone will spot him again.” Chopper nodded, but he didn’t really believe it. They weren’t far from Sturgis and he knew his brothers. Once they got there, it was going to be all about the party and this guy would be put on the back burner. He didn’t blame them. None of them knew Chelsea, and it wasn’t their bike that had sat smoldering on the back of a trailer that morning. But he couldn’t help feeling discouraged and pissed off. “Come on,” Zack said, putting his hand on Chopper’s shoulder, “let’s get out of here.” They were almost to the doors when Chopper spotted the bathrooms on the other side of the food court. Zack saw him looking and said, “I checked those.”
“Even the one with the yellow cone?” A “wet floor” cone sat out in front of one of the doors. It was the center door, which usually meant “family” bathroom. The one Chopper looked at earlier had a small lobby with couches and a changing table for babies.
“No, but while I was checking in the men’s bathroom, the guy was setting up to clean. He went in and made sure no one was in there before he cordoned it off. I watched him.”
“I’m gonna go check,” Chopper said. He heard Zack sigh but felt him following behind as he walked over to the bathroom. The sign on the door said, “Family.” Chopper went around the little caution sign attached to the cone that said Wet floor. Zack followed him in and they both looked around. Nothing in the lobby area seemed out of place and there was no one there. They stepped from there into the big, tiled room attached to it. There was a baby changing station, three sinks, and three stalls. Chopper pushed on the first stall door and it opened. There was no one inside. He did the same with the second one and caught sight of Zack in the mirror as he did. Zack had his gun out and was covering him. There was nothing and no one in stall number two either. When he pressed on the third one it didn’t move, but it didn’t feel like it was locked either. “Is someone in there?” he said.
“Chop, you might want to take a step back, carefully.”
“Why?” Chopper looked down and realized he was standing in a little puddle of blood. “Shit. Fuck. You think it’s him?”
As usual, Zack smiled. “Only one way to find out,” he said. Chopper knew he was right. He went into the next stall, stood on the toilet, and looked over into the other side. “Oh, Jesus!”
“Him?” Zack said, casually.
“I don’t know. There’s too much fucking blood. I think his throat was slit, but it’s the jacket, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, well…probably best if we stop touching shit and get the hell out of here.”
Chopper pulled his hands off the top of the stall. “Fuck! Shit! My prints are all over.”
Zack chuckled. “It’s a public bathroom, everyone’s prints are all over. Come on down, we’ll wipe the top of the stall, and the toilet. You need to wash the blood off your boot too. I’m going to cover the door while you do that, but hurry!”
Chopper felt like he was in shock as he watched Zack leave the room. Fuck. He’d imagined this, but not like this. The reality of seeing someone on the floor, bleeding to death…it was just too fucking real.
“Hurry up, Chop!” Zack called back into the room. That brought Chopper out of his head and sent him into action. He grabbed a handful of paper towels and wet them, wiped down the top of the stall, and then did the same to the toilet. Then he pulled off his boot and washed that in the sink before wiping the area he’d stepped in and then making sure the sink was clean. He was breathing like he’d just run a fucking marathon by the time he finished. He was standing in the doorway between the bathroom and the lobby, surveying the scene, when Zack’s voice nearly sent him through the roof. “Today, Chop, okay?” There was no stress in Zack’s voice, but his tone left no room to argue either. Chopper pulled on his boot and without tying it, he stepped out to where Zack was leaning against the door with one hand under his arm. Chopper wondered what he had planned on doing if anyone tried to go in. Zack smiled at him and said, “You finally ready for the prom, princess?” Deciding he really didn’t want to know, Chopper nodded numbly. As he followed Zack to the exit door with sweat running down his back, soaking his shirt, all he could think was Fuck my life.
16
“What the fuck is this?” Chelsea’s dad threw the papers the lawyer had given him, back down on the dining room table. Chelsea’s mother had pried Reed from her arms and taken him out to visit with the horses while she and her dad “handled” the lawyer. Her father insisted he come inside and explain himself. So far, Mr. Roberts was not enjoying the explanation Geoffrey St. Martin was offering.
“It’s a simple form that gives permission for us to do a DNA test on Reed that will prove Wayne is not his father,” St. Martin simplified his explanation down from the last three times he’d explained it. So far, Chelsea had sat quietly. This was surreal, and she had no idea what to even say.
“Why?” she finally managed. Her dad looked at her out of the corner of his eye as if he would have preferred that she stayed out of it. But that was what was so wrong with her life up to this point. She’d been staying out of it way too often.
“Mr. Borba…Wayne…has been working in the kitchen at the correctional facility for about six months now. When he received his first paycheck, he discovered that the state of Massachusetts was withholding child support for Reed Roberts. Wayne retained me, and he asserts that he is not this child’s father despite his name being listed on the birth certificate.” Chelsea got another sideways look from her dad. Her parents had urged her not to put Wayne’s name on the birth certificate, but at the time she’d been thinking about her child getting enrolled in school or whatever else he needed the birth certificate for. If she didn’t list someone under father it would have said “Unknown.” She hated the idea of how embarrassing that might be for a child. So, she’d told the nurse that Wayne Borba was his father that day and that was what his birth certificate said. Of course, Chelsea hadn’t foreseen any of this. She’d never even considered asking Wayne for child support, but of course her parents had been raising Reed since he was born, so if anyone got support it would be…
“Dad, did you and Mom file for child support?”
Her father looked uncomfortable. He was the most honest man she’d ever known. He hated lies. He hated to lie. He looked her in the eyes and said, “No, but I might know what this is abou
t.”
“Okay, will you explain it to me?”
“Your mother and I met with DCF last week…” Her dad seemed to remember that the attorney was in the room then and he said, “I’d like to speak to my daughter alone. You can leave the papers and we’ll call you.”
“I don’t mind if you step into the other room and…”
“You know what? I’m not in a mood to care what you mind or not,” Chelsea’s dad said. “So, if you don’t want to see me in an even worse mood, I’d take off right now if I were you.”
Geoffrey St. Martin took out his handkerchief and dabbed a bead of sweat off his forehead before picking up his briefcase and standing up. “My number is on the paperwork.”
“Thanks,” Chelsea’s dad said. “I’ll show you out.”
“Oh, I can find my way.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you can,” Mr. Roberts said, walking out of the dining room and toward the front door as he spoke. St. Martin followed him, and Chelsea’s dad waited for him to start his van and begin backing out of the driveway before he locked the front door and went back out into the dining room. He sat down and said, “Chelsea, have a seat, okay?”
Chelsea pulled out a chair and sat down. She was shaking inside. There was something going on. She’d known it when her mother called to tell her they wouldn’t be home for the visit she had been looking forward to all week. Now, her father was saying he might know why Wayne was all of a sudden worried about child support when Reed was almost three years old. She waited, impatiently until her father finally said, “You know everything your mother and I have done has been in the best interest of you and that little boy, right?”
“Of course.” Chelsea had spit virtual nails at them the day they took her baby from her at the hospital and sent her off to rehab. She had tried to stay clean while she was pregnant. It had been so important to her that the baby not be harmed by anything she put in her system. The doctor at the abortion clinic that day had talked to her about substance abuse and what it did to babies. Of course at first it was because she was so hesitant to have the abortion. He could tell she was strung out, and more than likely he’d been trying to talk her into it and not out of it. But even out of her mind on drugs, she just couldn’t bring herself to go through with it. She was three months pregnant by that time and she sat there looking at the pictures on the walls of how big her fetus was, and she just couldn’t do it. The doctor finally seemed to understand that, and he spent a great deal of time then explaining what she would need to do in order to have a healthy baby.
