MY STOMACH WAS churning as we rode out to meet with Bubba’s son.
Bubba hadn’t been able to give us much information, but what he had told us had my mind reeling.
Since when was there a new MC in town? Why did they have Cade’s bike, and where the hell is my fiancé?
We drove down a long gravel road, passing through a chain-link fence that warned off trespassers and stated the owner of the property had a weapon and wasn’t afraid to use it.
Charming . . .
I felt a little better about rolling up in Bea’s cruiser than I would have in my van, but still, the dogs chained up in the yard, barking as we parked, didn’t give me warm fuzzies.
“I think for this one, you might want to let me do the talking. I get the feeling Bubba Junior isn’t all that fond of cops,” I told Bea, and to my surprise, she nodded.
I thought about asking her to stay in the car, since she was in uniform and all, but I wasn’t all that hot to go to the door by myself.
We walked up the rusted-out steps and I rapped on the door three times. I looked warily over my shoulder at the still-barking dogs, then swung my head back when I heard footsteps approach and the door opened.
With disheveled, long dirty hair, and a sleepy expression, the man paused, scratched his bare belly, and asked, “What?”
“Uh, hi, we were told to come here by your father, Bubba, he said you may be able to help us,” I said, trying to sound friendly and cheerful, but coming across rather psychotic.
He shifted and noticed Bea standing next to me and scowled.
“I got a no trespassing sign out front. Unless you got a warrant, you need to step off and keep steppin.”
“Oh, no, sir, please, we aren’t here on official business or anything. This is my friend, Bea, and I’m a private investigator. There was an explosion by your dad’s shop last night, and my fiancé’s motorcycle was involved. Your dad thought maybe you could give me some information about the MC that may have started the explosion.”
He looked me up and down, then said, “You can come in, but she has to stay outside.”
“Now look here . . .” Bea began, but I put my hand on her arm to stop her and said, “Okay, that’s fine, but we leave the door open, okay?”
Bubba Junior looked at me and shrugged, then turned and walked back inside, leaving us on the stoop to figure out what to do next.
“I don’t like you going in there alone,” Bea said.
“I know, but you’ll be right outside, and you know Bran’s been helping me, so I can handle myself if necessary. I need to find out what he knows,” I said, my eyes pleading with her.
“Okay, but don’t go too far.”
I stepped gingerly over the threshold, then proceeded to go a few paces and stopped.
“Uh, I’m sorry, what’s your name?” I asked, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the darker room.
“You can call me Junior,” came his reply and I smiled at how spot on my mental name calling had been.
“Okay, Junior, what can you tell me about the new MC? Did you see them last night? How many were there?”
“Yeah, I was there last night. I been seeing them the last month or so. At first, there were just a couple, but last count there were at least twenty in town now. They stopped in, tried talking to me about weapons and such, but I told em I’ve got my own system of security, and don’t need to get involved in any shit. They been leavin me alone, but I seen ‘em bothering some of the other farmers and homeowners outside of town.”
“And, last night, was anyone injured? Was someone in the car, or with the bike?” I asked, terrified of his answer.
“Nah, last night was just fun for them guys, the car and bike have actually been there coming on two weeks now.”
Two weeks? Shit. Cade has been without his bike for two weeks? I can’t see him leaving it, so what does that mean?
“But . . . Did you see what happened two weeks ago? How they got there?”
“I can do better. Here, come with me.”
Although I’d told Bea I’d stay right inside the door, I had to know what he was talking about, so I followed him farther into the house.
Junior paused outside a closed door down the hall, then turned to me, hand on the knob, and asked, “You ain’t no pig, right? No narc? You say your man was on that bike and you’re a private dick . . .” He looked me up and down again and said, “Or whatever you call a woman private dick.”
“No, I’m definitely not a cop, and yes, he’s my man. Please, show me whatever you have.”
He looked at me for a second longer, then turned the knob and opened the door.
Inside, there was a long desk with rows of monitors. I looked around the room, taking in the lockers, the shelves full of cans and boxes of dry food, and open suitcase full of clothes in the corner.
The monitors were on, so I stepped closer and bent to look.
One showed the driveway Bea and I had just come down, another showed the property, I could see the dogs pacing back and forth, and a third showed the outside of the gas station. I could see what was left of the car and the wheel of the motorcycle on the ground.
“You do have cameras at the station,” I whispered, then stood and looked at Junior.
“I do,” Junior agreed. “But my pops don’t know about it. He’d be pissed.”
“I won’t tell him, promise. Does it also record? Do you have footage from a couple weeks ago?”
“Sure does,” he said, cracking what I think was a grin, but it was hard to tell.
He messed with some buttons on the keyboard. I didn’t really pay attention to what he was doing, my eyes were locked on the screen that showed footage from outside the gas station. He clicked on a couple things and the screen changed to show the empty field, no car or motorcycle, then he fast forwarded and stopped when Cade’s motorcycle came rolling down the street.
My hand went to my mouth as I watched.
One second, he was riding, and the next, a car came out of nowhere and slammed into his bike.
I gasped.
The car came to a stop in the field next to the gas station and I could see Cade’s bike caught underneath it.
Four men jumped out of the car and rounded the hood. It was hard to see what was happening, but within a few seconds they were carrying Cade across the grass. A van slowed down next to the crash, and the men loaded Cade into the back, closed the door, and climbed into the van.
Then they were gone.
“They took him,” I managed, my words coming out muffled against my hand.
“They ain’t been back till last night, when they came and set off the car.”
I dropped my hands to my sides and turned to him with a scowl.
“You knew this happened and you didn’t call the cops, or tell anyone?” I yelled.
“Ain’t my business, and I sure as hell wasn’t gonna call the cops. If there’s a war going between two MCs, you think I’m stupid enough to get in the middle? Hell no, Junior’s staying out of it.”
I wanted to punch him. First, for keeping the fact that Cade had been taken by a rival MC to himself, and then for talking about himself in the third person. Instead, I said, “Thanks,” and stormed out of there.