Chapter Eleven

Kelly

Talon takes me to the Savage Legion MC clubhouse later on so I can talk to his attorney. I've never been to a biker clubhouse but from watching movies and TV shows, I was expecting a trashed out warehouse or garage situated in the middle of nowhere. I turned down his kind offer of staying there under the club's protection, I've been getting too jumpy recently and I need to stop letting it get to me.

Their clubhouse is in a secluded location, but it looks like a fancy pub with an automobile repair shop attached. The parking lot is nice and has spaces neatly marked. The exterior is freshly painted and has two gigantic potted plants on each side of the door. I don't relax until we walk in, and I realize it's more like a regular run of the mill bar inside. There is a huge bar counter spanning one side and matching tables and chairs. The walls are decorated with biker memorabilia and photographs of members past and present.

He takes me back into a set of offices. One has a large table with three people already sitting on one end, two men and a woman. He introduces me to his club president, Siege, and his attorneys, Marcus Drake—who he said went by the name Smoke—and his wife and business partner Serena Drake. Another man walks in, he's tall and commanding, and has a serious expression on his face. Wearing all black, there's a large cross around his neck, before I can say anything, Talon introduces him.

"This is Rigs our club preacher, he's married to Mattie."

The man gives me a smile and reaches out to shake my hand, "Pleased to meet you, Kelly, I've heard all about you, and you're doing God's work at that shelter."

I nod my thanks to him and tell them all, "It's nice to meet you. As you probably already know, I'm here because Talon was with me during the time period his wife was murdered and I'm his only alibi. I'm willing sign a deposition or speak with law enforcement if it will help clear his name." Shooting a side glance at Talon, I finish with, "No matter what else he's into, the timeline doesn't indicate it was possible for him to be guilty of the crime they're accusing him of."

Smoke speaks up, "Let's be clear. No one is accusing Talon of a crime. He was picked up for questioning and released after he gave the police a formal statement," He pauses and fixes me with a look, "And our brother isn't into anything remotely illegal or immoral."

His club president, Siege leans forward and looks me in the eyes and I'm starting to feel like I'm the one who could be on trial. "We just want to follow up on any leads that might eliminate Talon as a suspect. Clearly you being able to verify that he was at the park for the better part of the night, would go a long way towards making that happen."

The woman chimes in quietly, "We don't want to put words in your mouth, so why don't you explain what happened yourself. We'll take notes, type up a deposition, get your notarized signature and turn it in to the Las Salinas PD ourselves. Naturally, they will want to speak with you in person to verify the information you give us is accurate."

I glance around the room at all the serious faces, including Talon's and then we get down to business. "That all sounds fine."

"Take us from the start of the day, and what led you to be in the location where you met with Mr. Ellis," Smoke says as he opens his legal pad. He notices my puzzled expression so elaborates, "In court, the defense will usually want to know everything. Being on a mountain track at night, especially for a young woman, is rather unusual. So we need to be sure of the events that led up to you being there."

That makes sense, so I clear my throat and start at the beginning. "I'd just gone on a run with my best friend near her house. We had pushed ourselves and I felt so invigorated that I didn't really want to go home. It was still early, only around half past two when I left her," I pause, "My friend could verify that if you needed? Anyway, I love nature so I decided instead of heading home, I'd go for a drive through to the mountain. The scenery is stunning there, and I stopped off at a few of the scenic outlooks." I suddenly had a thought, "If you need time stamps, I took some photos on my phone?" Smoke smiles and makes a note on the legal pad. I continue, "When I headed to the mountain, I entered the park and I noticed Talon—I mean Mr. Ellis—setting up his tent by the riverside."

Talon's amused voice interrupts my story, "Ms. Collins here thought I was a homeless man camping out in the park."

Without looking in his direction, I continue, "So I can verify that he was at the park when I first arrived at around three-thirty. I drove up, stopped a few times to take more photos. Unfortunately, when I started to head back home, I ended up getting a blowout. This would have been at around six and not only was my spare tire not holding air, but I was in a dead zone and couldn't get a signal.

"That's rotten luck. Go on," the woman encourages me.

"Well, I had the choice of staying on the mountain all night, or trying to get down to the park office where I could call for help. As I started walking I briefly got a signal, my battery power was low so instead of risking a call that probably couldn't connect, I quickly changed the message on my phone to one asking for help and giving my location."

Talon murmurs, "That was damn smart."

Shrugging, I admit, "Saw it on a television show about how to survive in the wilderness. They also advised staying with your car, which might have been a smarter move—at least for me, but it wouldn't have helped your alibi—anyway, I started jogging down the road towards the park office, I didn't want to be on the mountainside at night. I wasn't looking where I was going and almost stepped on a rattlesnake, I jumped back and twisted my ankle."

"That must have been painful," the woman says without looking up from scribbling on her legal pad.

"Yeah, it was. But since no cars happened by, I had no other choice but to keep walking. The more I walked the more my ankle swelled up. Finally, after another hour of walking, the pain got to be too much, so I sat down on a boulder along the side of the road, I checked my phone to see if I'd gotten any messages, it was just before eight. By then it was almost dark, I saw a flashlight coming towards me and that's when I saw Talon." I stop, realizing I had never asked Talon what he'd been doing there at night. "Why were you up there?"

He grinned, "I'd caught fish for dinner, but decided to go hunting for rabbits. Nighttime is the best, sometimes I don't even need my gun, the light startles them rigid. Anyway, I heard a movement and went to check it out and saw you sitting there."

Thankful for Talon's decision to forgo the fish, I continue with my story, "He came over to see if I was okay. He had a first aid kit in his rucksack and was kind enough to wrap up my ankle, and put an ice pack on it. He was so helpful, I don't know would have happened if he hadn't been there."

Rigs gives a laugh. "Yeah, Talon all kinds of helpful when he wants to be."

Talon just chuckles, so I assume that's some kind of inside joke.

"Anyway, after he wrapped my ankle, he carried me to his truck and drove me down to the park office. Of course by then it was closed I had a signal, so I called my father and brother. Talon was a perfect gentleman and waited with me until my dad and brother arrived at nine thirty. Once they arrived, he left for his tent."

Smoke asks, "How exactly do you know that for certain. He might have gone home after that. The police have the murder happening sometime between seven and midnight." Catching my annoyed expression he adds, "This is the sort of question the defense would ask. We can confirm times from the photos you took, the change of the voicemail message, and the phone call you made, and this does partially cover the time period the murder took place in, but it leaves us with two and a half hours in which the crime could have been committed."

"I know he didn't go home when he left us because he was cooking fish when we went back up the mountain to get my car. That would have been just after ten, because my dad was calling around garages to see if anyone was open. Then once we got to my car it took the better part of an hour and half to inflate my donut, get the tire changed out and make it back down the mountain at half past eleven. I remember the time because I pulled out my cell phone as we left the park to change my message back to a normal one. Talon was sitting by his campfire poking it with a stick when we drove by him the last time."

Both of the attorneys exchange glances, and I see that Talon has a hopeful look on his face. I hope what I have said is enough.

Serena speaks, "Given the time it takes to get from the park to Talon's house and back, I think that should cover it."

"Is there anything to prove you actually met Talon the night in question," Smoke asks tightly.

"My father and brother saw him when they first pulled up. I don't know if they got a good enough look at his face to identify him in a lineup, but I mentioned to my father that Talon was a good Samaritan who helped me off the mountain. Knowing my father, he probably remembers more about Talon's truck than his face. I also gave Talon my business card."

"And twenty dollars," Talon adds with a grin. "Incidentally I gave that money to a real homeless person."

"Do you think your father might be willing to give a statement to the police?" Serena asks.

"I don't see why not, but is it really necessary to drag my family into this?" Looking from one to the other, I decide to tell them something I probably shouldn't."

"I'm worried I might have caught the attention of one killer. I don't need two."

Talon jolted forward in his chair. "What they fuck? You didn't mention anything about that before now."

"Well, I can't tell you anything about that situation because it's related to a resident at my shelter, and I have to maintain client confidentiality. We've been on emergency lockdown protocols for the last couple of weeks."

"You should have told me," Talon spits out irritably.

I turn on him. "Don't act like you care about me. In your world I have a shelf life of exactly however long it takes me to give this deposition and talk to the police on your behalf. After that I won't be of benefit to you anymore."

He curses under his breath and shakes his head.

Serena gestures for Talon to calm down. "Tell me about this situation at work. You work at Bluebird Women's Shelter, right?"

I nod. "We got a complicated referral from CPS, and it turned out to be more than we bargained for. As you probably already know, I can't talk to you about it because all our cases are confidential."

Rigs pulls out his cell phone and begins pecking out a message.

"I had a feeling you were going to say that," Serena states grimly.

The next thing I know Mattie and another woman I vaguely recognize from CPS walk into the office. They're clearly here for the bar, because they've both have what appear to be appletinis in their hands.

"What's up, babe?" Mattie directs her question at Rigs, then stops dead in her tracks when she sees me and adds, "Oh shit, what in the hell is going on here?"

Rigs speaks up, "Sorry to disturb your girls' night but we need your expertise."

Siege, the club president comes to his feet and walks out to greet them. Or rather he slides one hand around the other woman and mutters, "You always taste like candied applies when you drink that shit."

She just grins at him and takes a sip of her drink. "It's because I have Mel add a dash of hot damn cinnamon liquor."

He sniffs at it and his top lip draws back in disgust. "Yep, that explains the taste."

The woman glances at me over the table, "I'm Cleo, Siege's wife, I don't think we've met officially before, but I recognize you from work functions."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Kelly," I say in return.

Meanwhile Mattie walks over to Rigs and his arm comes out to tug her closer. "Did you send a messed-up referral to Bluebird, sweetness?"

She takes a sip of her drink and shrugs. "It depends. What do you consider messed up?"

"One that put them on permanent emergency lockdown for as long as your referral is there."

Her eyes fly open, and she almost drops her drink. He's quick though and grabs it before it sloshes out of the glass. "What the hell?"

I fold my arms over my stomach. "We shouldn't be talking about this here."

"Cleo and I are CPS and have clearance, and Smoke and Serena are the club's legal counsel. If we send out Siege and Rigs, we can talk. But I think I know who you mean, no names then. I've only sent you one referral lately and it was A.A."

"That would be the one. What do you know about her life history?"

"Only what was in her file. She grew up in foster care, didn't finish high school, got her GED somewhere along the way and things went south at some point when he hooked up with a shitty, abusive boyfriend and took off. We only got the bare minimum of details, as our involvement was mainly to find adoptive parents for her baby. I knew she was troubled, which was why, when she had the miscarriage, I didn't want her to fall through the cracks in the system, so I called your shelter."

"Any idea what happened to her family?" I ask grimly.

She shakes her head, clearly puzzled.

"Her whole family was killed by a serial killer when she was ten. She was the only survivor."

It's Siege who figures it out first. "It's fucking little Anabel Ash. I remember that asshole was never found. My old man thought he skipped town for good. A small town like this is no place for a serial killer to try to hide out in."

Rigs' voice turns steely. "Wherever he went, you can bet your ass he continued killing. Once a certain kind of man gets a taste for human suffering, it's nearly impossible for him to stop on his own."

Talon takes a step closer to where I'm still sitting and looks down at me. "What makes you think the killer is targeting her again?"

"I don't necessarily think that, but her abusive ex-boyfriend sure does. And he's convinced that if the killer shows up at Bluebird it'll be a bloodbath. He says our security won't be enough to keep him out."

Talon looks me straight in the eye, "That asshole ex-boyfriend of hers might be the scum of the earth for abusing her but he ain't wrong."

Siege adds, "Here's the thing. My old man was obsessed with finding the Carver Killer back in the day. Unfortunately, he had his hands full with the Hellfire Hounds and the mutiny brewing in our club back then, but he wanted this guy bad."

Rigs wraps his arms around Mattie from behind and his tone shifts to one of absolute certainty. "I say, in honor of Claw, if we get wind that this sick fucker is back in Las Salinas then we bring him to justice."

I am shocked and somewhat hopeful that these tough bikers might be able to do what the police and everyone else weren't, and finally figure out who the killer is and if he's sniffing back around Las Salinas.

Siege jerks his chin towards the door and speaks to Cleo, "Why don't you and Mattie take Kelly out to the bar while we come up with a plan to protect Bluebird and get to the bottom of the Carver Killer mess. We've got your statement for Talon's alibi, I'm not a legal eagle like my sister over there, but I'd say it sounds like a pretty tight alibi. Right?"

Serena nods, I hadn't realized that she was Siege's sister. For some reason this makes me feel even better about the MC. I'd gone in expecting frightening men and rough bikers, but instead it seems more like a family.

Cleo gives Siege a quick peck on the cheek and they hustle me out of the room. I hover in the doorway and look over my shoulder. Talon is standing there staring at me. I have to admit he has the strong, proud bearing of a true protector. And I wasn't lying earlier this morning. He is hot. Just looking at him is doing all sorts of things to my insides.

The moment Mattie, Cleo, and I settle down in a comfortable booth at the bar and I have a drink in front of me, Mattie asks, "Do you really think the Carver Killer might be snooping around Anabel?"

Before I can answer, Cleo adds, "It been what, ten years or so? That's a long time for him to be waiting in the wings waiting to jump back up and take her out."

I take a sip of my drink. "I'm not sure what I think. Her boyfriend claims he's not an ex, and seems convinced it's a worrisome enough possibility to guard against. Obviously, I didn't tell him that she was staying with us, but rather than wanting to know where she was so he could do something bad, he seemed genuinely concerned about her."

Mattie frowns at me. "Did you ask Anabel about it?"

"Of course I wanted to ask her about it. But she's really emotionally fragile right now, I ran it past our psych liaison, and they suggested it might be broached better during one of her counselling sessions. What with the weird boyfriend who might or might not be an ex and her recent miscarriage, probing the worst trauma of her life without support didn't seem like the brightest idea."

Mattie nods. "Of course you're right. I'm used to digging so hard for information on kids—we have a different way of working at CPS. That's why I wanted her to be somewhere where she could get all the support she needed. How's she been doing the last couple of weeks?"

"She's been keeping to herself, meeting with her therapist regularly and trying to eat three meals a day. She eats like a bird, but always seems to be sipping on a bottle of water, so at least we don't have to worry about her staying hydrated."

"Is she reacting badly to the children?" Mattie asks. "I know you were worried about that when you accepted the placement, but I didn't another placement for her at the time."

"I hate to say it, but she walks around like a ghost most days, not really looking at or interacting with the other residents. I'm not totally certain she's even noticed the kids running around. It's like her mind is a million miles away."

"What does the therapist have to say about her progress?" Cleo asks curiously.

I take another sip of my drink before answering, "Not a damn thing. You know how therapists are. Even if we have a release of information they'd burn in the fiery pits of hell before they threw us bone about how their therapy sessions are going."

"Yeah," Mattie responds. "It's like they think social workers aren't part of the treatment team or something."

My cell phone jingles and it's a text message from Belinda, who is working at Bluebird today. I look longingly at the wonderful drink that only got to take a couple of sips of and announce, "Sorry, we just got an emergency referral from Christian Charities on family of seven. My co-worker needs an assist, it's supposed to be my day off, but I'm needed. Luckily, I've only had a couple of sips so I'm good to go. Can you let Talon know that I'll catch up with him after I help admit the family and get them settled in?"

"Yeah, we'll let him know," Mattie responds.

Cleo gives me a knowing look, "The police check on a family of seven plus taking psychosocial histories is gonna take hours."

I shoot her a weary grin. "You ain't wrong about that, sister."

Both women chuckle as I head out to my vehicle.

***

I'm on the road leading to the shelter when I come across a man lying on his back on the sidewalk with his feet hanging out into the street. Damn, I think to myself. He's not moving, I'm not sure if he's been hit by a car or passed out drunk.

I quickly pull over, grab my first aid kit from the glove compartment and rush to his side. He has his face turned away, I'm half crouched down beside him when he suddenly bolts up, and I see who it is.

Before I can react and run, he wraps one gigantic hand around my upper arm and jerks me over to a white panel van. Why the hell do these creeps always have such a stereotypical vehicles? The sidewalk is deserted, and my shouts for help go unanswered.

When he shoves me roughly into the van and begins quickly zip tying my hands and feet together I try to fight him off, I scream, "You said you weren't the bad guy we needed to worry about."

Anabel Ash's boyfriend shoves me back roughly and before slamming the van door shut, he says coldly, "No. I told you I wasn't the Carver Killer. I never claimed to be the good guy in this scenario, but I'm the only one who cares about her."

When the van door clicks shut, I'm so angry I scream long and loud like a wounded animal as I try to get loose. I know once this asshole drives off with me, my chances for survival are going to take a nosedive.

He climbs behind the wheel, starts the van and we're moving before I can get my head around the fact that I've been abducted.

Trying to jumpstart my scrambled brain, I ask, "What do you want with me? I don't understand why you're doing this."

"Anabel went missing today and I don't want to hear about how you can't deny or confirm she was at the shelter that you help run. I know she was fucking there."

Trying to get my head around what he's saying I mumble, "Anabel is missing?"

"I'm tired of playing stupid games with you. You think I'm too dumb to realize that you transferred her to another location, someplace where I can't get to her?"

I close my mouth and try to figure out what's going on here. He just said get to her instead of protect her, like he normally does. It's like his carefully constructed back story is breaking down because he's so freaked out about her giving him the slip—no longer the caring boyfriend, but the abusive ex.

All I know is that Anabel wasn't scheduled for transfer. She hardly comes out of her room, much less leaves the building. And even if she did, how would this asshat know? It dawns on me that he's been stalking our building. That's a huge problem, given the security we have, but it still doesn't explain Anabel's disappearance.

I try to reach the cell phone in my back pocket. Just as I realize it's not there. He grumbles, "Fucking hell, I wasn't stupid enough to leave your phone hanging out of your back pocket. What do you take me for?

I don't say that I'm starting to think he's intellectually impaired, because that would probably just agitate him even more. He's angry and clearly not thinking straight. As a long silence spins out between us, I realize that I'm not going to be able to talk sense into him. I was barely able to talk him down that day at the shelter with a security guard hovering around for backup.

My mind drifts to Talon and I wish that handsome biker was here to kick this asshole around a bit before whisking me away to safety. But I can't rely on anyone rescuing me, least of all the hot biker who's currently focused on getting himself cleared of a crime he didn't commit.

My mind goes back to earlier this morning when he'd backed me into the counter. He'd wanted a kiss. I wish I'd give him one along about now. Who knew if I'd get another chance to kiss anyone, much less him. My mind is currently running through hundreds of scenarios, each wilder than the next. I need to get my head straight and begin looking for ways out of this mess, rather than daydreaming about being rescued by a hot biker.