Chapter Twenty

Kelly

On the back of Talon's bike once more, and we're heading to a different part of town. We met up with his club brothers after he'd received the text from Zen, and they told us what they'd found out. That's when I had my big idea. I wanted to help Talon find his wife's killer, because then he could start to put his past behind him and move on with his future. Maybe there was a bit of selfishness on my part, because now I have my big, strong biker, I hate to think of losing him, if the cops decided not to believe my alibi.

It took some persuasion, but finally he and his club brothers agreed to let me help them investigate the family of the woman who died in the hit and run. I'm going to pose as a former college friend and pretend I don't know she's dead. I wouldn't talk to her parents or other family members for love or money. That would be cruel. But I'm game for having a low stakes conversation with her husband, especially if he's our only suspect in Sandra's death. If Sandra was killed in retaliation for leaving the scene of the accident in a bid to save herself from a DUI which in turn led to this woman's death, we need evidence to take to the police.

I'm going to record the conversation on my cell phone, and Zen has given me a burner. Before I go to the house, I'll make a call to Talon with the burner, keeping connected the whole time and he can hear if things get dangerous. It was the best we could come up with at short notice—the club brothers usually use throat mics when they want to keep in contact on missions, but that would be too obvious. We've established a code word in case I begin to feel unsafe, and there are five of his club brothers backing us up. This situation is about as safe as Talon can make it for me. I just need to be brave and do the right thing. The man I'm falling in love with needs closure and I'm going to get it for him.

We park the bikes a block or so away from Charlie Whitmore's house. The car registered to him is in the driveway, just like Rigs said it would be. He'd been shadowing the guy for hours before we arrived.

Talon is all kinds of upset about me being involved. Before I walk up to the house, he asks for the hundredth time, "Are you sure you want to do this? I never meant for you to be placed in danger to help me. You've got to believe me about that."

Siege grumbles, "Goddammit, she knows that. You've told her at least twenty times today already."

I reach up and cup Talon's handsome face in my hands. Looking into his concerned brown eyes, I try to soothe his worries. "I'm sure, and I'm going to be fine. If this guy turns out to be the man we're looking for, we already know he's not an indiscriminate killer. He intentionally targeted the one and only person he saw as responsible for his wife's death. It's highly unlikely he'll target me for presenting as an old college friend."

Talon glances down towards the house. "Yeah, the logical side of my brain knows that, but the emotional side isn't so sure."

Jumping up onto my toes, I give him a quick kiss. "I'll be fine. Let's get this over with so we can get the police involved and call it a night."

"Alright," he says reluctantly. "Just be careful, okay?"

"You know that I will. And if things go sideways, you'll be the first to know."

With that, I break apart from the group and start walking towards the house. It's already dark outside but not so late that a visit would seem out of place. He lives in a nice two-story brick home with a small, tidy lawn. Walking up the front steps I ring the bell, as I rehearse the backstory we came up with to explain why I'm here.

It takes two more rings before the door opens and a handsome man in his late twenties with jet black hair and dark eyes says, "If you're selling something, I'm not interested."

I'm standing close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath.

"No sir, it's nothing like that. I'm looking for Cassie Whitmore. I'm an old college friend. I was in town and wanted to see if we could maybe set up a lunch date, you know, just to catch up a bit. I tried calling, but I think she changed her cell phone number."

"She's not here," he says roughly before taking another swig from the amber bottle in his hand.

We discussed several ways to address him, if he tried to get rid of me before I could find anything out. "Do you have any idea when she'll be back? I can come back tomorrow if it's more convenient."

His face morphs into a mask of pain and he finally admits the truth. "She's dead. Killed by a hit and run close to two years ago."

My hands fly to my mouth, and I act shocked. Although I'm not a good liar, it doesn't take a lot to churn up some emotion because I really do think this is a tragic situation. When I take a step back and bend over, like I might fall, he steps out on the porch.

"Better sit down before you fall down, lady." His speech is slurred. I do as he says and sit down on the porch and put my feet on the top step. "I'm sorry to be a bother. This is just so unexpected, you know?"

He drops down to sit beside me, leaving a good three-foot distance. Taking another sip of his beer, he agrees. "Yeah, it is pretty fucking shocking. She was eight months pregnant with our son. Neither of them made it."

"That's so awful. You have my deepest condolences." My voice sounds earnest because I am. This man's personal pain has been immense.

"It's not the kind of thing you ever really get over. Cassandra was the light of my life. We'd already set up a nursery, and everything was so fucking perfect until someone ran her off the road and left her to die a slow painful death. I can't stop thinking about what her last moments must have been like."

This poor man is playing right into my hands. I feel awful doing this, but then I remind myself, that he might be a killer. I watch him drain the last of beer before saying, "That was a senseless loss of life. I certainly hope they caught the person responsible for her death."

"And my unborn son. Don't forget about him," he says before throwing his beer bottle onto the front lawn. "I fucking hate the bitch that killed her. My Cassandra was worth a hundred drunken assholes like that Ellis bitch."

"I guess they caught her. I hope she ended up serving time for her reckless behavior." I try and keep my voice steady, hoping that Talon is listening. He might not have admitted to murder, but the fact he knows that it was Sandra who ran his wife off the road, is suspicious as hell.

Gazing up at the stars for a second, he mumbles, "The ignorant whore got exactly what she deserved."

Acting like I don't know anything, I ask, "Oh, did she end up dying in a motor vehicle accident too?"

He staggers to his feet mumbling, "I heard she got her head bashed in, just like my wife. Serves the bitch right."

I don't say a word because we've captured the whole conversation on my cell phone. When the door slams behind him, I walk back to where Talon and his club brothers are standing. Only now there is a law enforcement officer with them. I'm curious how he got here so quickly.

He's the same officer who interviewed me at the station. "Did you hear all that." I ask.

He nods. "Yeah, of course I did. I even recorded it. I'm going to need you to come down to the station, give another statement and surrender your phone as evidence. I'll be able to use that for probable cause to get an arrest warrant."

"You're not arresting him tonight?" Talon asks incredulously.

"We need to do it by the book. I've got an unmarked car watching the property. Any movement and we'll take him in," the officer says.

Talon looks somewhat appeased by that.

Smoke speaks up, "Once he hears his own confession, my best guess is that he'll either lawyer up or try to cut a deal."

Turning to Talon, the officer asks, "Since you were the deceased's closest relative, what do you want to see happen here?"

"I want to ring his stupid neck. Sandra was absolutely responsible his wife and son's deaths, but she didn't deserve this bastard to deal out vigilante justice on his own. I'm for prosecuting him and seeing that he serves hard time."

"So, I'm hearing you say that cutting a deal is not a viable option."

"Hell no. He's a fucking killer."

"I'll pass that along to the prosecuting attorney's office. I can't promise they will respect your wishes, but I will make them aware."

Glancing at me again, he says, "It would be best if you followed me to the precinct now. With any luck I can get a warrant in time to catch him before he leaves home in the morning."

"We'll follow you," I assure him.

As the officer drives off and I walk with Talon to his motorcycle, I ask, "How did that cop get here so quickly?"

"Zen did a bit more digging around on Charlie. For a fellow computer buff he didn't cover his tracks. Looks like he'd been doing his own investigation of the accident, getting camera footage etc. The cops had closed the case, saying it was an accident. Anyway, a couple of months ago it looks like he finally tracked down the killer."

"He found out it was Sandra?" I ask.

Talon nods, "He had a file on her, details on the car, where she worked, photos," he pauses, and I can hear him practically grinding his teeth together.

"What is it?"

"To get close to her he set up a dating profile, turns out he was one of the guys she was chatting to."

"He slept with her?" The words just burst out, I couldn't believe it.

Talon swings his legs over his bike, and I get on behind, he turns his head around to address me, "I don't think so, they'd set up a meeting for the day she died. He was the man who cancelled on her that we couldn't find, and the cops weren't interested in. Clearly, he wanted to make sure she'd be home. Cancelling at the last minute meant she didn't have time to set up another date. I'm guessing he got his confession and then—"

He lets out a huge sigh. This was never going to turn out well, but finding out all this about his cheating wife must be hard on him. I don't know what to say, so instead I just give him a kiss on his forehead and wrap my arms around him tight.

***

When we get to Las Salinas PD headquarters, we're led to the same meeting room as before, only now instead of Talon being a suspect, he's seen as the grieving husband.

I give a statement regarding what the suspect told me, they have the recording, but they need it in my words too. The officer not only records our conversation but takes written notes as I speak. I'm much less anxious this time because I know the drill.

When I finish giving my statement, Smoke speaks up, "I'd be remiss if I failed to point out that there is no way Whitmore could have known the exact cause of death for Mrs. Ellis because that was intentionally not disclosed to the public."

"True," the officer responds mildly. "It's the reason I like him for this crime." Looking around the room, Officer Warens says, "Don't worry, I'm on it. We're not going to mess this situation up."

I slide my phone across the table and tell him, "My passcode is socialgrace."

Talon smothers back a smile and we say our goodbyes. His club brothers are all waiting for us in the parking lot. They talk amongst themselves for a few minutes. Each brother takes the time to thank me for helping solve the case. These men are all a strange mixture of sweet and savage. To be honest, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed, so I don't say much.

Talon notices though. This man always notices when I'm not okay. He tells them, "Thank you all for being here tonight and all the hard work that went into discovering this link. I'm going to take Kelly back to my cabin and get her settled down for the night. It's been a long day for both of us."

They are all so nice and supportive as we take off that it feels like a family farewell, reminding me that I haven't seen mine in a while. Knowing that my parents think I'm out there living my best life when I've been abducted and mired in danger makes me feel guilty. But not guilty enough to run home and tell them all about it. Why spoil their peace of mind unnecessarily, I tell myself.

As we ride to the cabin, my mind goes to Anabel Ash. She's still missing, and Belinda reports that our shelter hasn't been contacted by any other organizations about her. I think about how obsessed her ex was about finding her and something doesn't sit right with me. Talon's club still hasn't tracked him down, and I hope he hasn't gotten to her. I can't quite put my finger on it, but something is very wrong. I've always believed in logic over gut feelings. Talon is probably right about her skipping town to avoid her creepy ex. The rule of Occam's Razor states the simplest explanation is usually the right one.

When we get back to his cabin, Talon just undresses me, gives me something for my pounding headache and we go to bed. Sex seems like the furthest thing from our minds after hearing Whitmore's sad story. We drift off to sleep wrapped tightly in each other's arms. Even safe in his arms, I try to ignore the feeling of dark foreboding that twists in my stomach.