Finn

by Jessie Cooke

  “Jace.”

  “I’m Detective Williams and this is Detective Rivers and Officer Stanley...”

  “It’s nice to meet all of you, but can we get to the part where you tell me what’s happening, quicker?”

  The detective cocked an eyebrow and said, “You know Finn McGregor?”

  “Yes, he works for me.”

  “In your motorcycle club?”

  “He’s a member of my club, yes...but he works for me in the shop up front. What’s happened with Finn?”

  “Have you spoken to him today?”

  Jace’s patience was already wearing thin. He wanted them to just get to the point already. “No.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

  “Are you going to tell me why you’re asking?” He was glad Beck was gone for the day. She’d taken Goth with her and ridden back to New Mexico. His sister, Annie, needed new clothes and other female things and Beck had volunteered to take them to her. Jace was sure if she were here, she’d be twice as frustrated with the cops as he was.

  “Eventually,” the cop said, with a smug look on his face. Yeah, it was a good thing his wild little old lady wasn’t there.

  Jace sighed and said, “I saw him yesterday.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Here,” he lied. He wasn’t bringing up the bar unless they did.

  “What time was that?”

  “I don’t know. Sometime in the evening. Now tell me what this is about. Is Finn okay?”

  “We don’t know. He was last seen being dragged into a white van along with a woman whose company he was in.”

  “What the fuck? Dragged by who?”

  The cop shrugged. “We have a vague description of the kidnappers, and a partial plate. That’s it so far. Do you know why anyone might want to kidnap Mr. McGregor?”

  “No, of course not. Who was the woman he was with? Where were they?”

  “Does Mr. McGregor have family?”

  “No. He came here from Ireland about a year ago and since then has turned his life around. He doesn’t have any family and he cut ties with everyone there. We are his family. Tell me what the hell is going on!” Jace’s patience was gone and he could tell by the still smug look on the cop’s face that things were going to go downhill before they went up.

  “He was in front of a business owned by a contractor named Anthony Galt. Are you familiar with Mr. Galt?”

  “No. Who was with him?”

  “Mr. Galt’s niece was taken along with Mr. McGregor. Her name is Caitlin Brooks.” Shit. Jace knew that name. That was the same girl Finn met at the coffee shop the day he was arrested...the woman who bailed him out of jail. Finn said she had nothing to do with setting him up that day, but this had to be more than a coincidence. “Are you familiar with Miss Brooks?”

  Jace shook his head. “No. I don’t know her, but I think maybe she and Finn were dating.”

  “So you haven’t received any phone calls from Mr. McGregor or his kidnappers today? No ransom demands...?”

  “No! Do you think I’d stand here and pretend like I knew nothing about this shit if I had? Jesus fucking Christ! Go do your fucking job and find them!” Jace was usually pretty laid back, but this cop was pushing his buttons, besides the fact that all he could think was that he had to go over and tell Granite his son was missing. Fuck.

  The cop cocked his eyebrow again. He seemed to be doing his best to agitate Jace, yet he wanted to act like Jace was the one being the asshole. “I think that you should calm down. We are doing our job. It’s why we’re here.”

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t come tell me one of my guys was just dragged into a van and kidnapped and expect me to be calm about it. Do you have any hits on the plate yet?”

  “No.”

  “But you will keep me posted?”

  “I will,” the detective said, taking out one of his cards. The female detective took one out as well, although her gabby partner hadn’t given her a chance to speak. They both handed them to Jace and the detective said, “If you hear anything at all, or think of anything that might help us, give me a call.” Jace was thinking of that punk...the one Beck called the Irish doughboy...and he wanted to get to him before the cops did.

  “I will.” He took one of his business cards out of his pocket, handed it to the detective, and said, “And you do the same.” The asshole smirked and said:

  “Yeah...sure.” He took the card and put it in his pocket and then with a nod to the other two, they all got in their cars. Jace watched them leave and then turning to Punk and Streak, who had been standing guard at the door of the club the entire time, he said:

  “Saddle up. We have us a doughboy to cook.” Looking over at Bubba he said, “Keep our guest company and if I’m not back in a few hours, give him some cash out of the safe and tell him to get a room close by somewhere.”

  “He can stay with me, Boss.”

  “Alright, thanks. Nobody says anything to anybody about Finn or any of this until I get back, got it? I want to talk to Granite before he hears it from anyone else...but I want to get to this other asshole first.”

  “Sure, Boss. What’s that guy’s name in the shop again?”

  “Colin.”

  12

  “Son of a bitch!” Finn woke up with a massive headache. The first thing he thought was that he must have really tied one on the night before. The second thing he thought was that he needed a cigarette. The room was dark, darker than he ever remembered his apartment being. Everything was pitch black, no light coming from anywhere. He looked toward where he’d expect windows to be...nothing. His bed felt like a rock too...like someone had taken the mattress and left him lying on top of the wooden box springs. “Fuck.” He groaned and tried to push himself upright. That made his head feel like a knife had been shoved down into his skull. He only lifted up a few inches before dropping his head back down and slamming it into what felt like cement. “Shit!” Now the back of his head hurt too. What the hell did I do last night?

  “Finn?” The sound of the faint, scared voice was like being hit by a truck. Suddenly the memories slammed into him. Caitlin was here. But where in the hell was here? He remembered being outside her uncle’s office with her, and then she screamed out his name and everything went black. Now, it was blacker and his body hurt like hell.

  “Caitlin? Where are you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. She sounded like she’d been crying. If they’d hurt her, he was going to kill them. “It’s so dark.”

  “It’s okay. Keep talking and I’ll find you.” He pushed up again, fighting the pain that wracked not only his head but every one of his joints as well. The dark room was spinning and now he could see two colors, black and fuzzy gray. He used one hand to feel around at what he was sitting on and discovered it was some kind of cement slab. His hand dropped off about three inches from his body on each side. It was disorienting as he slid his legs over the side, not knowing how far up he was. He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as his feet touched the floor. Using his arms, because his legs hurt like hell and he didn’t trust them alone, he pushed up to standing. “Caitlin? Talk to me, love.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Me too, love. But it’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

  “Where are we? It’s so cold in here.” Finn took a tentative step in the direction of her shaky voice, waving his arms in front of him to make sure he wasn’t going to hit a wall or something. When he moved his arms, his neck hurt. It felt like he had a knot on the side of it. She was right, the room felt cold, and damp even...like they were underground. He didn’t want to think about that. He’d had nightmares, after assuming the identity of a dead man, that he was in a grave, trying to get out. This reality was a little too close to the feeling in that dream for comfort. Trying to keep his own voice steady he said:

  “I don’t know. Keep talking.” He could tell the sound of her voice was getting closer. It also echoed, slight
ly...he didn’t like that either.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I saw that man coming up behind you, but I thought he was going into the office until the last second. I think he stuck something in your neck, and after that I don’t remember anything. My neck hurts, though...you think they drugged us?”

  She was apologizing again for something that wasn’t her fault. Finn felt a wave of guilt. He had trouble apologizing for things that were his fault. This was his fault...he was sure of that. “I don’t know, but probably. Please. Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault, love. Can you tell me what the man who came up behind me looked like?”

  Finn turned to the right when she started talking again and his hand brushed against something. He cringed slightly, hoping it was her. “He was tall, and he had dark hair and mean-looking eyes.” He felt her hand came up and cover his and then she got to her feet and in less than a second, she was in his arms, sobbing. “Finn, what do they want from us?” Finn ran his hand through her hair and kissed the top of her head.

  “I don’t know, love. We’ll be okay, though.” He didn’t know that, but she was kind enough, or just scared enough, not to say it out loud.

  Jace raised his hand to knock on Granite’s door. He lived in a small apartment in a suburb of Phoenix. Granite had always chosen to be reclusive. He was happiest alone with his books and music, so sadly, transitioning him into a dead man had been easy. He had a fake name and papers, just like Finn did, but he didn’t have need for any of it often. He spent his time at home, playing his violin, sipping tea, and reading books. Jace knew that besides that, his biggest pleasure was seeing his son, Finn, who visited him on a regular basis. If Granite had been trying to reach him today, he might already know something was wrong.

  No one ever really understood what Granite was doing in an MC...or maybe Coyote knew, and he just wasn’t telling. There were so many things it seemed that Coyote knew, that none of them found out about until he died. Jace had heard that Granite was deadly with a gun and had no fear, but he didn’t know him that well and he’d never had the opportunity to witness any of that. He did know that he was responsible for saving Wolf’s old lady’s life, and that afforded him respect from all the members of the club as well as the life he was currently living. The MC that Jace and Beck were just getting off the ground was started, in large part, to keep Granite and his son safe. Jace was angry with himself because he felt like he’d failed everyone. He’d gotten comfortable with the fact that no one seemed to be looking for Finn...and that was about the time they were. The guilt was eating away at his guts as he let his knuckles rap against Granite’s apartment door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Jace, G.” Granite’s new name was George Bennett. He was a dead man, the same as the man Finn’s identity had come from. George was retired, disabled, and had no friends or family. The people they paid a hell of a lot of money to, to come up with these identities, said that George committed suicide. Jace didn’t ask any more questions after that. Wolf had actually been the one to deal with those people and Jace trusted him. He didn’t want to look at Granite and think about some poor lonely fuck, offing himself.

  He heard the three locks Granite kept on the inside of his door disengage. When he pulled open the door, he was smiling. As soon as he saw Jace’s face, his smile fell. “What happened?”

  “Can I come in, G? I’d rather not talk in the doorway.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry.” Granite took a wobbly step backwards. He’d taken to using a cane lately, but Jace could see it leaning up against a chair in the small living room. Once he was inside, Granite closed the door behind him and his manners intact, he said, “Please have a seat, Jace. Can I get you anything to drink, or...?”

  Jace sat down and rubbed his hands together. “No, I’m okay, Granite. Have a seat. I have something I need to talk to you about.”

  Looking worried, Granite made it back over to his chair and said, “What happened?”

  “Finn, and the girl he was seeing, were...taken, by someone. We don’t know who.”

  Granite’s already pale face went completely colorless. He picked up a glass of water sitting next to him and took a long drink and then said, “Where was he ‘taken’ from? Did they hurt him?”

  “He was in front of his lady friend’s uncle’s office. Broad daylight. I wish I could tell you more. Her cousin called the cops and they have a vague description of the men who grabbed them, and the van. I talked to the cousin and the uncle this afternoon. They’re both pretty shook up. The cousin said she heard Caitlin scream. By the time she got out there, one man was shoving Finn into the back of a van and another one was carrying the girl. She says they looked like dead weight, like they were sleeping.”

  “It makes sense they would have had to sedate Finn. He wouldn’t go easily...fuck! What did the cops say?”

  “Just what I told you. They knocked on my door looking for information I couldn’t give them. As soon as they were gone, we went looking for Sean O’Hare and found more trouble there.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “Punk was watching him this morning. His shift started at six. He relieved Merlin and Merlin says everything was fine. The Irishman hadn’t made a move since he left the bar and went home last night. But when we got there, Punk was nowhere in sight, the Irishman’s front door was kicked in, and they’re both gone. We just beat the police there, too. We weren’t a mile away when we passed them. This has to be related to what Finn was into in Dublin. But I don’t understand why all of a sudden, unless O’Hare really did just happen up on him that day at the coffee shop and tell someone from back home.”

  Granite was shaking his head. He picked up his water again and his hand was shaking so badly that he spilled it down the front of him before he got it to his lips. When he set the glass down he said, “This is my fault.”

  Jace cocked an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

  Granite brought his eyes up to look into Jace’s and said, “I fucked up. Jesus, God, help me...I fucked up so bad this time.”

  13

  Finn sat on the hard, uncomfortable floor with his back against the unfinished cement wall. Caitlin sat on the ground between his legs with her back against his chest and her head resting back on his shoulder. He was trying to think, figure out where they were and how to get out. The darkness was almost overwhelming, and the most frightening part about the complete blackness was that it made him feel like they were in a tomb...and every time he let himself think that way, his chest got tight and he imagined it was hard to breathe.

  Finn wasn’t sure, but what he thought they were actually in was one of the many underground tunnels in Phoenix. He’d never been down there, of course...but he’d heard his fair share of stories. Some of the tunnels had been there since the 1920s. Some were still being used, like the ones underneath the university. In a climate as hot as Phoenix’s, every available avenue to heat and cool was explored, and underground vents helped out a lot in the days before air-conditioning. There were tunnels under the jail that were used to escort inmates to court. There were tunnels underneath city hall where it was rumored an “escape tunnel” for the mayor existed, although he’d never confirmed nor denied its use. But the tunnels that worried Finn at the moment were those that had been abandoned and neglected for decades. They were dark, wet, cold...and probably filled with vermin, that thankfully he and Caitlin hadn’t come across just yet. Folktales, or rumors...depending on how you looked at it...circulated about the homeless population who had gone off the grid and down into the tunnels to live. People, journalists mostly, had gone down with camera crews in the past, trying to confirm those rumors. No live person had ever been found living down there. However...more than one set of human remains had been found throughout the years...picked over by the maggots, roaches, rats, and God only knew what else that lived down there. Finn shuddered.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No, love, I’m okay. But I’m think
ing that we have to either be above or below an exit. I think I should crawl around and see if I can feel anything.”

  “What if we’re not, Finn? What if we’re buried...alive?” Caitlin had the same thoughts as he did, but in an effort to make it all less horrifying, for her at least, he said:

  “We can’t think like that, love. We have to stay positive. Besides, if there wasn’t an opening somewhere, we wouldn’t be able to breathe.” The air was thick and it was hard to breathe, but he wasn’t going to mention that to her; there was no point. He slid her sideways gently so that she was sitting on the ground next to him and said, “You can lean up against the wall there. How’s your neck?”

  “It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m sorry for being such a Debbie Downer.”

  Finn laughed. “Debbie Downer, I like that. But, if you ask me, you’ve handled this all amazingly well. Sit tight, I’m going to see if I can feel anything on the floor.” He hated not being able to see. It was completely disorientating. He got on his hands and knees, praying that he wouldn’t touch anything furry or crunchy in the dark. He’d hate to piss his pants in front of Caitlin. With his side pressed against the wall, so that he could be sure to search the entire perimeter, he began to crawl slowly, running his hands back and forth in front of him as far as he could reach. The only sound in the room was the sound of his and Caitlin’s breathing. The crawling was tedious and uncomfortable, and the darkness slithered around him like a snake and caused his imagination to work overtime. He imagined that they had been dumped in part of one of the old tunnels, and then it had been sealed shut. They had no idea how long they slept on those cement slabs. They could have been there long enough for that to happen. If it was O’Reilly that had them, burying them alive would be right up his alley, except that he’d want to watch them suffer. That was the key...O’Reilly was a sadistic son of a bitch, and Finn prayed that would be the thing that ultimately saved them. As horrifying as his memories of the last time O’Reilly held him captive were...the fact that he was such a sick bastard might just be their saving grace. Maybe, now that he wasn’t a one-twenty-pound heroin addict, he could overpower them, take them by surprise even, if he was able to figure out where their point of entry would be.