Going by the number of motorcycles parked in Wayne's driveway, everyone had arrived for the Notus Motorcycle Club meeting taking place in the garage. Thad walked to the front door, knocked, and let himself in.

Clara, Gracie, and Ingrid all poked their head out of the kitchen. He lifted his chin at the women, smelling something sweet baking. Gracie held out her hand, offering him a treat. He grinned, plucking the yellow cake-like bar from her.

"Thanks." He took a bite and headed toward the other end of the house. The sweet and sour mix of lemon hit his tongue, and he licked the powdered sugar off his fingers as he pushed his way into the garage.

"Thad's finally here," said Chuck, perched on the back of a wooden chair. "Pull up a chair, bro."

Wayne stood from behind the desk and handed out a paper to everyone. "Since we all voted to take the drifter search, I requested the paperwork we needed. Considering this is a private case, the man—Jack Grayson, knows that if a missing person case comes up with the P.D. and we're asked to help search, our time will be put aside to help the police with a more urgent case first. He's okay with that, though he stressed that the quicker we can find his sister, the better. In the papers I gave you, you'll find the information on Grayson's sister. Thad?"

"Yeah?" Thad sat in an empty chair.

Wayne pointed to his copy on the desk and said, "Read the specs."

Being dyslexic, Wayne never read or filled out any paperwork if he could get someone else to do it for him. Thad glanced at the picture on the top paper. A teenage girl turned sideways from the camera, holding a skateboard, wore a Street Cred hat, hiding her short black hair.

"This is the best picture we could get?" he asked.

Wayne shrugged. "Jack Grayson is ten years younger than his sister. He claims there are no family pictures with his sister in them. He only had this one, because he stole it out of his sister's room before she left."

"That doesn't make sense. What is Grayson eight?" Thad flipped the paper over looking for the age of the missing. "The drifter's name is Jonelle Marie Grayson. She's thirty-four years old. Dark brownish black hair. Brown eyes. Five feet seven inches. At the time of her disappearance..." He scanned down the paper, read the details, and exhaled. "It's been sixteen years since the woman has drifted."

"Jesus Christ," muttered Glen. "Her kid brother was only eight years old the last time he saw her. What the hell is he going to know about her?"

"Not much, which is evident in the lack of information he gave us." Wayne pointed at Thad. "Go on and read the rest."

Thad shook his head. "There's no more concrete information. She's originally from Eugene, Oregon. Jonelle moved out on her eighteenth birthday. Her history with her mother was filled with hostility, anger, and Jack mentions his sister got in trouble a lot as a teenager. Eventually, the sister told her mom she was moving out and never came back. No letter home, no phone call, nothing." Thad flipped the papers over and straightened them into a stack. "No reports were made for a missing person because she was of age and openly left."

"It's a fucking wild goose chase, Wayne." Chuck shook his head. "We have no idea what the woman looks like now. We can't even do a facial scan and age the picture we received because she's not facing the camera."

"Jack Grayson is aware the odds of finding his sister are slim." Wayne scratched his beard. "Jack's twenty-four years old. He only wants to make contact with his sister, and he's open to a phone call or location of where she's living. It seems their mother is dying. He needs to deliver a legal paper to his sister upon their mother's death."

"Hardship case." Thad put down the papers. "How much time does the mom have left?"

"Less than six months, I believe. She's got cancer," said Wayne.

"How long is it going to take to find a trail, Chuck?" Glen tongued the toothpick between his teeth.

Chuck blew out his breath. "A day to put her name through all the search engines, check the national police log, run her details through the system."

"Okay, we'll go off Chuck's schedule. There's no sense searching until we know more." Wayne thumped his fist against the desk. "One more thing. We need to talk about our search for Rich."

Thad ran his hand over his face. Not a day went by where he could rid himself of the guilt of Rich leaving St. John's and Notus. It was because of his sister's kidnapping and murder that Rich left. If he'd been able to help his sister before it was too late, he had every belief that Rich and Thalia would be married and have kids right now. They'd both be home in St. John's and Rich would be an active member of Notus MC.

"The bar owner up above Seattle said Rich was there for a couple of months and then one day he was gone. He sat in the bar, drank, and stayed by himself. Once in a while, he'd walk out of the bar with a woman—a different one each time." Glen crossed his arms. "That matches what we heard in Colorado a few years back."

"We went up there. There was no sign of him and when pressured the bartender had no proof. He was even unable to tell us more than what we volunteered with our questions about Rich. The closest gas station had one grainy picture on a security tape that looks like it could be him doesn't mean squat. It could've been any man," said Thad.

"There's also no way to get a fucking pattern of where he'd plan to go to next, or we'd be able to bring his ass home." Chuck walked around the desk. Using his boot, he rolled Wayne out of his way and grabbed a chair and put it in front of the computer.

Wayne leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. "What do you guys think about putting a call out to all the territorial MC's. We can start with those who run the northwest and inland northwest. Give them a month, and if we don't get word back, we move on to the next three states."

"We've talked about this before. As much as we want to find Rich, he wouldn't want any eyes on him. We don't know who we can trust or what shape he's in if he finds someone taking a special interest in him." Thad stood from the chair.

"None of us are getting younger." Wayne paused and looked at each member. "We need him home. Vote."

"Aye," said Chuck.

Glen raised his hand. "Aye."

"Fuck," muttered Thad. "Aye."

While he hated going against what he believed Rich wanted, he agreed with the others. Rich needed to come home. He at least needed to contact the club. It'd been over twenty-four years since anyone had seen or heard from him.

"Settled." Wayne stood and checked his phone. "I need to take the twins to the bar. Chuck, call if you find out anything more on the Grayson woman."

Glen reached out and squeezed Thad's neck. "You okay?"

Anytime Rich's name came up, the members surrounded Thad as if the heartbreak of losing his sister would set him off. He couldn't run from the pain. His parents still lived in St. John's, surrounded by the streets, people, buildings that held memories of Thalia. The pain never lessened. He just got better at hiding the guilt and anger over failing his sister.

"Yeah." Thad patted his pocket. "Give me a call if anything develops. I need to run an errand, so I'll be away from the house for the rest of today. Maybe tonight, too."

"Will do." Glen reached out and grabbed Thad's sleeve. "Wait. You're not coming back tonight and hanging with us?"

"I don't think so." He grinned. "But, if my plans change, I'll swing by."

Glen laughed. "What's her name?"

He shook his head, remaining tight lipped. "See you later."

Thad walked through the house and out the front door to his Harley. Putting on his helmet, he circled his bike around and rode down the street. While he had the time, he had a woman across town who wanted another date, and he planned on seeing her again.