Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Mattie

It’s almost midnight when my phone rings. I’m at my kitchen table, rummaging through a new box of paperwork. Without looking to see who’s calling I answer, thinking it’s probably Cleo. No one else knows that I’m such a night owl.

Grinning to myself, I say, “Hello. Thank you for calling Night Owl’s Missing Person’s Detective Agency. How may I help you.” I shouldn’t joke about investigating missing kids but sometimes I use humor to keep from allowing this situation to pull me down into the depths of a depression I might never escape from.

When a masculine voice snorts a laugh, I realize it’s not Cleo calling me. He says, “You probably don’t remember me but—”

I cut him off mid-sentence. “You’re Rigs. Dark hair, neatly trimmed beard, brown eyes and real polite. I recognize your voice from when Cleo introduced us. You were the only biker wearing dress pants with your cut. I remember you were wearing a black button-up shirt and an ornate cross. Cleo said you were minister.”

There is a slight pause and then he responds, “I’m impressed. Most women don’t remember me at all. I usually have to introduce myself two, sometimes three times before they remember my name.”

“Nonsense,” I insist. “I was pleased to meet you. My grandfather was a minister. I was raised to respect men and women of faith.”

“Well, I’m more of a spiritual advisor than a traditional minister.”

“That’s fascinating,” I state, wondering what the difference is in his mind.

“I’m wanted to offer to assist in your search for the missing children. I’d like to help in whatever capacity you need and be your personal liaison with the Savage Legion. I’m a former Marine Chaplain and have experience talking to people about issues surrounding grief and trauma.”

I pause for a moment, taken aback by his sudden request and the late-night call. But then I consider what he’s suggested and can’t think of a single reason not to accept his help. He’s a trusted person because he was with the Savage Legion. Their club president is married to my best friend and partner in hunting down the missing children. I would be a fool to turn down a minister’s help, especially one with prior experience supporting people in crisis. He could be helpful in so many ways.

“Alright,” I reply. “I accept your help. I don’t feel comfortable meeting in public with the case files, because I have too much confidential information that needs going through. My apartment is a bit small though.”

Before I can continue, he offers a workable solution. “I have an office at the clubhouse. It’s not exactly large, but it should be spacious enough for us to work in. I also have file cabinets that lock. If you’re working with confidential information, you’ll want to have them double locked for safety.”

This man is just the kind of person I need on my side. He’s familiar with the protocols for handling sensitive material. I glance around at all the boxes sitting around my apartment, I really shouldn’t be keeping stuff like that at home—but given what Cleo and I had uncovered we didn’t know how high the corruption went. “If you’re sure it’s no imposition, securing all my investigative notes and files in your office would really helpful. It’s kind of taking over my apartment right now.”

“It’s no imposition at all. I can even help you transport it in one of our secured vans.”

“That’s amazing, thank you.”

“Mattie, after seeing what the poor kids we rescued had gone through, it’s the least I can do. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to bring those kids home. Anything you need, I’m there for it.”

Hearing the sincerity in his voice affects me more profoundly than I imagine such an offer would. There was something special and unique about this man.

“I work from eight in the morning until four in the afternoon, so it will be mostly evenings and weekends. Is that going to cut into your personal life?”

There’s a short burst of laughter down the phone. “Personal life? What’s that? I normally just hang out at the club in the evenings, and I’ve been looking for something productive to do with my time on the weekend. Now, I suppose that I’ll more to do than I can handle.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” I respond. “I’ve got a massive amount of information to go through on each case, everything from case records, medical records, police reports and sometimes eyewitness interviews.”

“We could start a board for each case, kind of like cops do. Sometimes it’s easier to see connections when you look at it visually.”

My excitement surges. “Yes, that’s a great idea. I wanted to do something like that but just didn’t have the space to pull it off in my apartment. Your offer of help couldn’t have come at a better time. I was starting to get really overwhelmed.”

“I can come bright and early in the morning and help you pack up and transport all your records if you like. If that’s too soon maybe we could do it one evening this coming week.”

“Tomorrow would be fantastic, I’ll make coffee around nine in the morning and start packing everything up. You come on by whenever is good for you.”

“I’ll be there as close to nine as possible.”

“Great Rigs. I’ll text you my address.”

“I’ll let you get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”

“Thanks again. Sleep tight and don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

He chuckles. “My mother used to say that.”

“She was clearly a wise woman,” I say warmly.

After the call ended, I hold the phone to my chest, allowing the awesomeness of this moment to settle over me. This is the best possible thing that could have happened for our cause at this point. With any luck having a secure hub to work out of, and another set of trained eyes looking over the material will get us one step closer to finding those kids.

My phone rings against my chest and I look down to see that this time it actually is Cleo.

“Hello, Cleo. Did you get the twins down?”

“Yeah, both sets. We’re up to our knees in kids these days.” Her voice is tired but happy.

“Don’t complain. I know you love it.”

“Oh yeah, I’m living the life. Thing One actually puked on my favorite shirt today.”

“It’s cute how you call the new babies Thing One and Thing Two. My mom used to read that Dr. Seuss book to me all the time when I was a kid.”

My friend laughs, “Siege is getting them onesies that look exactly like the outfits in the book.”

“Aww, that actually sounds pretty cute.”

“Any idea who’s getting the DA gig yet, and whether we might be able to get them on board with actually prosecuting the big wig in charge of the syndicate?” Cleo asks, her tone all business now.

“They put Assistant DA Ervin Yaran in charge for now. He seems like a decent enough guy. I’d like to give it a bit and see what kind of cases he prosecutes. He will be handling the David Henderson case. So far, he hasn’t dropped the charges or done anything crazy.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” Cleo says sarcastically.

“I have some good news,” I add brightly.

“Good, because this exhausted momma could sure use some.”

“Siege’s friend, Rigs, called tonight and he’s offered to let me use an office at the clubhouse. He even volunteered to help me organize the material on each case and start a crime board.”

“Wow! That’s awesome, it’s difficult to try and work out of boxes. The clubhouse is practically a fort. All our information will be secure there, and if any of the bad guys want to get in then they’ll have to go through the Savage Legion first.”

“Rigs said the room should be spacious enough for both of us, so hopefully we’ll have enough room to work the cases properly.”

“Is this space his office? If so it’s huge.”

“Yes. He did say it was his private office. I wonder why he has so much personal space there.”

Cleo snorts a laugh, “Maybe because he’s been camped out there since the dawn of time.”

“What? He lives there?” I ask incredulously. While Rigs had been in my thoughts on and off, I had assumed like the other brothers he had an apartment or house elsewhere.

“Near enough, Siege says he’s there most of the time. Maybe he came with the building?” Cleo says.

I laugh, “Come on, the man can’t be that old.”

“I think he’s in his early forties,” she responds.

“He doesn’t look a day over thirty-five to me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in hot bikers with a heart of gold now.”

“Perish the thought. If I were going to pick a biker, it wouldn’t be their minister, he’s probably taken a vow of celibacy.”

“You’re one to talk, when was the last time you got laid? Anyway, he’s not that kind of a religious leader. He doesn’t give sermons or anything like that. I think he’s more like a life coach or personal counselor that gives advice based on wholesome values, rather than a strict interpretation of religious dogma. I don’t know the full story, but from what Siege says, I think he kind of gave up on organized religion.”

I consider this information, and file it away for further perusal at another time. “The only thing I care about is that he’s helping us find those missing kids.”

“And the fact that he’s pure eye candy has nothing to do with your current excitement, right?”

“I’m feeling really attacked right now, though I don’t think he sees me in that way.”

“He’s a man, you’re gorgeous, of course he’s going to like what he sees. And look all you want. The brothers in that clubhouse love to get noticed. They thrive on female attention the way we do coffee.”

“Well, I’ll try to be extra nice to him and stroke his ego because he’s going above and beyond to help us on the most important task of our professional career.”

“I have a good feeling about Rigs volunteering his time. He’s a smart man who could only be an asset.”

“I agree. He’s coming bright and early in the morning to help me pack up and transport our files.”

“I’ll try to meet you at the clubhouse later. If I can manage to wrangle Siege into finding someone to help him with the kids.”

We say our goodbyes and I yawn behind my hand so hard it makes my jaw ache. Closing the file I had been reading, I put it back into the box. It’s been a busy evening and I need to get some sleep before moving a roomful of file boxes tomorrow morning. I pad to my bedroom and slide into bed. My shower will have to wait until the morning. MS was a bitch, while I’d gotten used to the randomness of the flare-ups and my condition was pretty well controlled, the fatigue was sometimes overwhelming. Exhausted, I tumble off to sleep with high hopes of making progress on my cases.