Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

The station loomed ahead as Weatherman pulled into the worn lot. He blew on his hands to warm them, as he’d forgotten his thick biking gloves, and the mornings were finally getting colder. The Dragon Runners would be on the road until ice covered them. The way the dry fall had delayed winter, he expected they’d still be on bikes in December.

This morning, his head wasn’t on his job, or the club, or even his mother. It was on Opal and had been the past few days. The scene outside the Lair sat with vivid colors in the forefront of his mind, and he doubted he would ever forget the sight of her nearly collapsed on the ground in a full-fledged panic attack. He’d grabbed the abandoned jackets and stroller, then rushed out to the parking area with the intent of ripping her a new asshole. Instead, what he found was a woman on the verge of a total breakdown, and he had an epiphany.

She wasn’t a stuck-up bitch.

She wasn’t a snob when it came to his beloved club.

She wasn’t a man-hater.

She was broken.

Something in her life, her past, had shattered her, and she was here in Bryson City to pick up the pieces. His first thought was drugs and that being around the club triggered her. He wasn’t sure why, though, as Betsey didn’t allow that kind of shit in her house. A few members snuck out to the giant garage or the camping cabins to smoke a little weed, but no one dared bring it to the main house. That was a prime way to have your patch taken. Still, some event or words or scene at the Lair had brought out a bad memory of something that had shaped her into the person she was now. His newsman curiosity wanted to investigate. His Dragon Runners code was to protect. His male instinct…

Fuck! Get your head outta your ass! What is wrong with you?

His self-admonishment continued as he tucked his helmet under his arm and entered the squat building.

Two of the officers rushed around their desks, nearly running into him. Their normal speed was slow to moseying, so he immediately knew that something was wrong.

“Another dump site’s been found. Same as the last one. Chief is mad as hell,” Ranger Fine informed him.

Weatherman didn’t have time to comment, as Chief Wilson came barreling out of his office. “You talk to Brick yet?”

“I was planning on bringing it up at the next church meeting.”

“Call him now and meet us there. This one is only a few miles from his campground. It was his people there who called it in.”

An hour later, Weatherman stood with the chief and Fine, along with Brick, Mute, and Bruiser as they took in the sight before them. The scene was almost an exact repeat of the last one. The difference was, there were more dead bears this time.

“How many?” Brick’s low, calm tone was lethal.

“Hard to tell.” Weatherman covered his nose, the smell overwhelming. He pointed his phone and snapped pictures with one hand. Skinned carcasses that appeared dumped in a haphazard pile. Bloody stumps where paws used to be. Mutilated heads missing jaws and ears. Open bellies with tangles of intestines draped across the ground. It was both horrifying and sorrowful.

Rage added itself to the mix. An emotion so present that it was palpable in the air.

Weatherman glanced over at Brick. The man’s face was like granite—hard, unyielding, and completely void of expression. Anyone who knew Brick would realize the level of fury in the tough biker was off the charts.

“They weren’t killed here. We ain’t seen bears around the campground in decades. Too many people around, and we put out vinegar bags around the place to keep them away,” he stated in an icy voice. “Someone hunted ’em, cut ’em up somewhere else, and dumped ’em here like trash.”

Chief Wilson let out a long sigh. “We got shit to go on.”

Brick turned to Bruiser. “You remember them hunters from last week down at the River’s Edge? The ones from Ohio?”

Bruiser shifted his bulk from side to side, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, there were three of ’em. They was askin’ about where to go to get bigger game. I told ’em ain’t nothing open right now. Deer season started in September, archery first, then black powder. Bear season starts later this year after Halloween and has limited permits because of the current population. They laughed like I’d said a joke and left the bar.”

“They say anything else?”

“Not to me, but I did hear one say he knew a guy who knew a guy.” Bruiser sniffed and lightly coughed. “Said the name Gus-Gus on his way out the door.”

The chief took off his hat and ran a hand over the thin strands of gray hair combed over his sweating bald head. “Clem Gustler has been mentioned a few times in connection with this shit, but there’s no proof and no way to get any.”

“If there’s evidence, it will be found.” Brick stood tall and decisive. “I ain’t givin’ no orders to a ranger, but I can to a Dragon Runner. Weatherman and Mute need to go pay a visit to Clem’s place. You can ask about the lawn tractor he’s got for sale. I could send Dodge with Mute, but he’s got his plate full with his dad and that other shit at his girlfriend’s restaurant. Go sometime tomorrow in the early afternoon, but don’t call him. Catch him off guard. Weatherman, be sure to wear your colors.”

Weatherman had no problem with this plan. He’d had no dealings with Clem and wouldn’t be recognized as a ranger.

Mute made a growling sound, which indicated his agreement. The large silent biker was intimidating enough as the River’s Edge bouncer, but when he was riled up, someone usually got hurt. No one ever wanted to see him truly angry, and right now, he was truly angry.

“I’ll text you later with a time and some details. Dodge is covered up at the garage, and we gotta get back there.” Brick turned to Wilson one last time. “I’ll let you know if we find anything, but I ain’t makin’ no promises about staying out of it. This is my campground and my backyard. I’m gonna protect what’s mine.”

The chief sighed again. “I didn’t expect you to stand down. Just please don’t do something that’s gonna make me regret callin’ you.”

The three bikers left on a roaring note, leaving the three rangers to finish processing the scene. Fine was turning green again, and Weatherman fully expected him to start hurling when his phone rang. The caller ID sent shards into his stomach. “Shit, it’s my mom.”

Wilson gestured for him to take the call, and Weatherman moved away from the bloody scene to answer.

“I’m so sorry to call, honey, but I need some help.” She sounded weak and in pain.

Alarm flashed through him like a heat wave. “What happened?”

“Well, Emma was supposed to come, but her daughter called, and the grandbaby is sick. I thought I’d be fine by myself, but I fell, and I’m having trouble getting up.”

Weatherman swallowed as a helplessness washed over him. His mind ran through a dozen possibilities, but none of them would work. He’d ridden with the chief and Fine in the department Jeep and was stuck miles away in the woods with no immediate way back to town. The bikers had already left, and the cleanup crew was on the way.

“Can you call an ambulance?”

“Absolutely not. It’s too expensive.”

“Insurance will pay for it or else I will.”

“I don’t want them people here making a fuss. All they’re gonna do is get me up and leave. No sense in spending money for that. I’ll just wait for someone else.”

Weatherman gritted his teeth in frustration. He’d never won an argument with the woman and recognized that he wouldn’t now either. Who was available? Betsey? She was at the hospital with Table, as Lori had gone into labor that afternoon. Molly? Asleep from working the night shift at the sheriff’s office. Tambre? Maybe she could get away from the shop. He dialed the hair salon and waited for someone to pick up.

The line rang twice before someone answered.

“Salon, what can I do for you?” a grating voice smacking on a piece of gum asked.

“Hey, it’s Weatherman… uh… Bryce Turner. Is Tambre around?”

“No, it’s been slow today, so she went over to Dillsboro for some supplies.”

Shit! He thought about calling Opal, but he felt awkward after their near kiss the last time he saw her, and he didn’t know quite how to handle being around her yet.

He bit his lip. Suck it up. Your mom is in pain. “Is Opal around?”

“Nope, it’s her day off.”

Good news that might make her more available. “Thanks anyway.”

He hung up and scrolled to the most recent number added in his contacts. His mind raced through other possibilities, but this was the only one that worked. Before he could talk himself out of it, he hit Call and held the phone to his ear.