It was okay that he wasn’t here to do it with me. He was in my heart, and that’s all that mattered.
My mind drifted away as I slowly pulled the needle through the tender, soft skin of her right hip…
The front door slammed and my eyes tore away from the Flintstones episode I was watching. I watched my old man burst into the trailer, his footsteps shaking the floor. Mama was already in bed, drunk and passed out hours ago.
“You still up?” he barked. “It’s four in the fuckin’ morning.”
I nodded, sniffing the air. He smelled like something sweet. Flowers or perfume, it reminded me a little of the powder Mama kept on her dresser.
He stumbled to the kitchen, grabbing a half-full bottle of whiskey from the top of the fridge.
“Your Mama drank my booze,” he slurred.
I nodded again, unsure of his mood. He plopped down on the torn couch, the one he’d brought home one day last year after finding it on the side of the highway. It had two broken legs and he propped it up on a couple of blocks of wood and called it good. But every time he sat down, it scooted a tiny bit off the blocks, so every couple of weeks it would come off all together when he sat down, and he’d shout and scream and throw a fit, like the world had just ended.
I never knew when it would happen, so every time he went to sit down, I found myself on edge, holding my breath and waiting for an outburst that may or may not come, and may or may not escalate to a fist smashed into my face.
When it didn’t come this time, I could breathe again.
I sat down beside him, watching him bring the bottle to his lips. He looked over at me and flashed me a rare smile.
“Wanna see something?” he asked.
I nodded.
With a sly smile, he pulled out a polaroid picture.
“Now, don’t tell your Mama I showed you this, okay?”
I nodded again, and he shoved the picture in front of me.
It was a girl, a woman, actually. She was naked, except for one of those big white bras like Mama wore and a pair of blue panties. She looked scared, her eyes turned up to the camera with mascara running down her cheeks. Her hands were tied up in front of her massive boobs with a blue nylon rope that looked like the rope my old man kept in the back of his truck.
“Who is she?”
“She ain’t nobody no more,” he said, his eyes bright with excitement.
“What’s wrong with her? Why is she crying?” I said, my voice quiet as a whisper. The picture made me feel weird. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.
“Oh, she’s just scared. Don’t worry, though. She’s not afraid anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because I helped her. I did something good. I took all her pain away, made her tears stop flowing, her trembling stilled. That girl right there? She doesn’t have a care in the world, not anymore, she doesn’t.”
I nodded, still not sure I understood.
He took the picture and put it back in his shirt pocket, giving it a little proud tap afterwards. He turned back to me and smiled, his eyes more alive than I’d ever seen them.
“I’m going to do it again, son.”
“Will you show me the picture again?”
“No,” he replied, shaking his head, squinting his eyes. “I shouldn’t have taken this one. Can’t leave any evidence. That’s not safe. I’ll burn this. And you remember not to tell anyone about it, not even your Mama, okay?”
“I promise, Daddy,” I said.
“Good boy,” he said. “I won’t take more pictures, but I’ll let you know when it happens again, okay?”
“How many times are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know. What's a good number?”
“Mama told me seven was a lucky number.”
“Seven it is, then! That sounds good,” he said, bringing the bottle to his lips again and settling back against the couch. He reached up and tapped his pocket again, a soft smile setting across his face as he stared off, lost in his bottle, lost in his memories, lost in the pride of his accomplishment.
He turned on the television and changed the channel until he found his favorite show, the Andy Griffith Show. It was just beginning and he began whistling along with the theme song. After the song was over, he passed me the bottle and I took a big swig off it before handing it back to him.
Like razor blades against my throat, I cringed as I swallowed the hard liquor, but I liked the warmth that came afterwards.
“Don’t tell your Mama about that, either,” he said.
“I promise, Daddy.”
“Good boy, good boy…”
CHAPTER 30
DONNA
I’d been to the Tillamook Cheese Factory several times as a child and a few times as a teen, always making sure to walk through the inside and take the little tour, watching as the huge machines packaged the various cheeses. Then, we’d go through the sample line, making sure to not miss the famous ‘squeaky cheese’, which was really small cheese curds that squeaked a little when your teeth sunk into them.
Located on the 101, it was one of the first landmarks you spotted before you hit the ocean coming off Highway 6. After the hour drive in from Portland, as a kid, it was like a symbol of the beginning of all the fun to come for each magical trip my family took to the coast.
I always knew I’d be back.
But I never thought it would be like this.
I parked my car in the cheese factory’s parking lot, walked a small ways down the side of the highway, then let myself under the police tape that marked off the dirt road that led to the scene.
It was barely dawn and I’d been woken up from a deep slumber, Randolph’s barking voice breaking through my peaceful sleep while it was still dark to let me know there was another body found. This time, it was many miles away from the Gods’ clubhouse, so much so, that at first I wasn’t convinced it was connected to the other victims.
“I need to see her right hip,” I said to the medical examiner, after walking up. He lifted the black plastic covering the body, confirming what I’d hoped wasn’t true.
There it was, the tattoo. Crudely done, but clearly formed, staring back at me like it was taunting me at this point.
“Thanks,” I said. “Any obvious evidence?”
“Not yet,” he said.
I turned away, my eyes raking over the scene for anything that might stand out.
“Did anyone see anything?” I asked the police milling around.
“The woman who found the body was out walking her dog around four in the morning. Said she heard a car about an hour before that driving by. She figured it was her neighbors up the road. She came out later because her dog wouldn’t stop crying at the door and the dog led her to the body. The dog started pawing at the ground, uncovering the victim’s foot. The woman pulled him away and called the police.”
“Any chance she has security cameras?”
“Nope,” he said.
“Check the nearby businesses. Check the cheese factory, see what they got, if anything, around that time. Keep me posted,” I said.
I turned away again, heading back to my car and ran into Randolph.
“Is it our guy?” he asked.
“It is,” I replied. “Have you heard any news about the DNA results? This is going on way too long.”
“Supposed to get some results today,” he said. “I’ll make some calls and see if I can’t hurry it up. What about the background checks? Anything come out of that yet?”
“Still waiting. I wish this stuff happened a lot faster. At this rate, this guy is gonna kill dozens before we catch him.”
“Yeah, well, we don’t live in a Law & Order episode,” he replied.
“If only.”
“What are you up to now?”
“Heading back to the hotel. Once I get those reports, I’ll be able to make a little more progress.”
“Keep me posted,” he said. “How is staying at that motel? You safe?”
I thought of Nate’s kiss last night, the way it felt being wrapped in his arms, so warm, so fucking right and putting my entire career in danger. It mostly certainly wasn’t safe.
“I’m always safe,” I said, patting the holster under my suit jacket.
“Well, keep it that way.”
“Will do. Keep me posted.”
I walked back to my car, my thoughts unavoidably turning to Nate’s kiss last night. I reached up, touching my lips, swearing to myself that I could still feel the heat.
Now that I’d had a taste of him, I knew settling for that one kiss would be impossible.
CHAPTER 31
RIOT
“Today’s body found in Tillamook is the fourth one,” I said, my gaze bouncing off the faces of all the Gods gathered in one room. It had been a while since we’d all been together, but Grace had asked everyone to come today. The room was crowded, to say the least.
Ryder, Grace, Slade, Wreck, Bones and myself sat around the table, with the new guys sitting in chairs lining the walls. Nate, Eli and Fury always hung together and today was no different as they sat huddled in a corner together. Shadow, Bullet and Blade sat opposite them, their huge frames taking up almost an entire wall of chairs. Crow, Colt and Vick sat directly behind the end of the table, their intense stares turned my way. Storm, Wolfe, Ziggy and Stryker lined the other wall and they listened intently.
“I hate to say it, but I’m comforted by the fact that they are being found farther and farther away from us,” I continued.
“Maybe that’ll take some of the heat off of us from the FBI,” Ziggy said. “I can’t drive out of here without feeling like I’m being followed.”
“It’s possible you are,” Grace said.
“When my old man was being investigated by the Feds, they had cops following him everywhere for weeks,” Crow said.
“I’m pretty sure I was being followed in my van last week,” Wolfe said.
“Look, as long as you guys aren’t doing anything sketchy, you’ll be fine,” Grace said. “Don’t let them make you paranoid. We know we had nothing to do with this and we have nothing to hide. Let them follow you. Wave hello to them. If you change your routine, then they’ll get suspicious.”
“Are they gonna come back here?” Bullet asked.
“It’s possible,” Ryder said. “Best to always be prepared.”
“I wouldn’t mind another look at that FBI lady’s ass,” Crow said, laughing.
“Shut the hell up!” Nate barked, and all eyes turned his way.
“Thank you, Nate,” Grace said, throwing a disapproving glance Crow’s way. “I’d appreciate it if you kept the sexist comments to yourself, guys. That’s not how we work around here. I expect respect for all women, even the ones with badges. Understood?”
“Sorry, Grace,” Crow muttered.
“Thank you,” she said, with a curt nod. “I wanted you all here today, because I just wanted to check in with you all in person. This isn’t what any of you signed up for and we’ve never really experienced anything like this before as a club, or as Solid Ground. We’ve gone through a lot and all this murder can really mess with a person. I want you all to know that my door is always open if anyone wants to talk.”
“That goes the same for me,” Ryder said.
“And me, too,” I replied. “We’re a family here. If anyone needs anything, no matter what it is, don’t hesitate to speak up. We’re here for you, no matter what.”
“Yeah, and if anyone wants to work it out with your fists, I’m here for you, too,” Slade said, only half-joking.
“The point is, none of us are alone, and it’s important, especially in a time like this, that you all know that.” Grace said, “I know most of you are new, and I’m not sure how you handled times of crisis with your other club, but here, we pull together, not fall apart.”
The guys nodded and grunted in agreement and as I looked them over, I wondered if any of them were having a hard time with all of this. You’d never know it by looking at them, because they weren’t exactly the type to wear their feelings on their sleeves. When one was peppered in tattoos and wearing near-permanent scowls and somber expressions, sadness or depression wasn’t something easily detected.
“It’s important you not let this disturb your regular routines,” Ryder said. “I know a bunch of you have other things going on, families, loved ones to visit, and all of that. Feel free to come and go as you please. The cabins are coming along great, but if anyone needs to take a little more time off, just let us know. We really appreciate all of you being here and we want to be as accommodating and supportive as possible.”
“Hey actually,” Slade joked. “I’m pretty torn up about all this. Think we can get one of those litters of therapy puppies delivered?”
Everyone laughed, just as they always did at Slade’s jokes. I’m pretty sure out of all of us, Slade is probably the most likely to be depressed about all this shit. He’s the one that found the only living victim, after all. But I also knew that Slade would die before anyone knew he was upset by anything. He hid behind his crooked grin and stupid jokes, taking all the punches life gave him with the strength of ten men and then asked for more.
I stared over at him and resisted the urge to go over and hug his ugly ass. I shook my head, laughing under my breath — I was getting soft in my old age.
“Have any new details been released?” Stryker asked. “I haven’t been following the news.”
“They just keep reporting the same facts over and over,” Crow said. “I know they have to have more than they’re releasing.”
“Maybe they didn’t leave any evidence,” Blade said.
“They’d have to be really skilled to do that,” Crow replied.
“Whoever they are, they’re fucking demented,” Storm said.
“Sick as hell,” Ziggy scowled, shaking his head.
“So, we can speculate all day,” I interrupted. “But that will get us nowhere. Right now, there’s nothing to do but go on with our lives.”
“I’m pulling out my gun this afternoon,” Shadow said.
“Your gun?” Colt asked.
“My tattoo gun. If anyone wants some ink, I’m pretty good at mini-tats. It’s just something to do,” Shadow shrugged.
“I’d like a tat of Riot’s face on my ass,” Slade said. “Can you do that?”
“I’m not that good,” Shadow said, laughing.
“Alright, everyone,” Ryder said. “You know where we are if you need us.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said. “Meeting dismissed.”
Chairs scratched the floors and boots shuffled out the door. I watched them all stroll out, each guy rock solid in his own way, and I felt a surge of pride rush through me. What had started as something completely different, had ended up here.
The Gods were everything to me, beyond all else. I’d take a bullet for any one of them and I knew they’d each do the same in return. The brotherhood we share is rare and unbreakable.
With us holding each other up, there’s no way we’ll ever fall.
CHAPTER 32
DONNA
The words on the page stared back at me. I read them twice, just to make sure I didn’t miss any details.
Otis Alton had a past.
The old man living in the rundown shack had a reason to seclude himself from the rest of the world. If he hadn’t, he’d surely have been shunned by the public if anyone caught wind of what he’d done.
Men like that don’t fit in.
Men like that don’t deserve to be a member of society.
Twenty years ago, at the age of forty-five, Otis Alton was an usher at a theatre in downtown Portland. During an afternoon showing of a children’s play, the theatre was filled with children from some of the local elementary schools. During the school year, the theatre was a popular place for field trips away from class, but the teachers were always a little overwhelmed venturing out with that many children and so few chaperones.
; Two of the little girls from one of the classes needed to use the restroom during the play and Alton was called upon to show them the way. Only, he led them into a broom closet and kept them there through out the rest of the show, doing unspeakable acts to them for hours. He’d let them go after making them promise to not tell anyone.
They went home and told their parents, and Alton was arrested the next morning. He was sentenced to seven years in the state pen. He’d spent the last several years in relative seclusion in the woods and out of trouble.
By the time I finished reading the report, I needed another shower.
Quickly, I took one, contemplating what to do about this new information at the same time. This didn’t necessarily mean Alton was guilty, but it didn’t make him any more innocent, either.
I knew what Randolph would say.
He’d insist it was enough to get a warrant, and he’d proclaim the guy guilty before we even had the cuffs on him. I liked to move a little slower.
But we didn’t have time to move slowly. There were too many dead bodies, and the more they piled up, the more our bosses were going to be breathing down our necks. In fact, I was surprised we’d not heard from the higher ups yet. I suspected my father had something to do with that, as much as I hated to think about it. Dad had a way of sticking his nose into my business, making sure I got the tough cases and was given room to grow.
He had a lot of influence around the Bureau and he didn’t hesitate to use it for my benefit.
Finally, I called Randolph, knowing putting off the inevitable was only a waste of time. By the time I’d finished reciting the report to him, he was right where I suspected.
“It’s gotta be him,” he said.
“We don’t know that yet,” I said.
“Well, if it’s not one of the Gods, then it’s him. You choose.”
“How about we just follow the evidence, instead of flipping a coin, Randolph?”
“Look, let’s get a warrant, search his place. A judge will agree with me. You’ll see. Send me the report, I’m in court in half an hour anyway and I’ll talk to the judge myself.”
FALLEN GOD_GODS OF CHAOS MC_BOOK EIGHT Page 10
