The Sin Eater

by Lee McIntyre

“And you can?”

  “Sometimes. You have to know what to look for.”

  “Like what?”

  “A tattoo. A ‘tramp stamp.’ Something that flags them as ‘Property of the Club’.”

  Adam stared at Tugg.

  “I know, Adam. It isn’t your world. But there are women like that. I’ve been with some.”

  “And you saw one of those on Lisa Castro? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Not her,” Tugg said. “Someone else in her office.”

  “Who?” Adam said.

  “Her name is Wanda.”

  Chapter 17

  Entering Snake River Basin.

  “I saw the tattoo when she leaned over,” said Tugg. “Above the back of her jeans.”

  “So she can help us? Did she tell you where Emma was? Is she in Ashland?”

  Tugg put his hand up. “Not so fast, bro. She didn’t say anything about Emma. I haven’t even talked to her yet.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because I’m not patched yet. I’m just a prospect. There’s a big difference. When you’re a prospect they give you your ‘cut’ — your ‘colors.’ They give you a leather vest with the logo of the club on the back. Take a look in my bag.”

  Adam reached over the seat and took the alien thing out of Tugg’s bag. He held it on his lap like it was too hot to touch.

  The Immortals.

  “The top ‘rocker’ is the name of the club,” Tugg said. “Below that’s the logo. That’s all I get for now. When you become a full member, they give you the bottom rocker with the name of the place where your charter is located. That’s when you become a full patch member. When you’ve got three patches, you’re in. But you don’t just move up automatically from prospect to full patch. They have to vote you in. And until they do, you sure as hell don’t start nosing around asking questions of somebody’s old lady at the clubhouse. That can get you killed. I’ve got to jump through a lot of hoops before I become a full patch. Then I can talk to Wanda. Once I’m a member, then she’s a sister, and she’s got to help me with —”

  “So if you’re a prospect, why aren’t you wearing your vest?” Adam said.

  “Never in a car. That’s major disrespect. The colors have to fly freely.”

  Adam looked absently out the window. “OK so how long does it take then?” Adam asked. “To get your full patch?”

  “Minimum six months. I’ve seen it quicker, but I’ve seen it take longer, too.”

  Adam’s head shot back around.

  “Six months! Christ, Tugg, Emma is out there now!”

  Tugg nodded and held his hand up again. “Yeah, I understand. You got a better plan?”

  Adam fumed. “Maybe I do. Maybe we should go back to CPS. I could talk to Wanda myself. If you’re a member of her club then —”

  “Adam, were you listening? You’ll get us both killed. We’ve got to follow the rules.”

  “For an outlaw club?”

  “That’s right. And one of the main rules right now is that I’ve got to show commitment to the club.”

  Adam shook his head. This was all so fucking unbelievable.

  “And how do you do that?”

  “You mean other than signing my motorcycle over to them?”

  Adam drew a breath. “Look, Tugg, I get it. It’s not lost on me what you’re doing for me here. But clue me in. This is the plan?”

  “Yeah, this is the plan. I’ve got to do whatever the fuck they ask me to. I don’t have any control over it. I hate it, but that’s how it is.”

  Adam could feel his options closing off. He turned his head and looked out the window again. “And these things you’ve got to do. I suppose they’re illegal?”

  “I’d do anything for you and your family. You know that. But not everything the club does is illegal. You hear ‘outlaw’ and you think criminal. But ‘outlaw’ just means they’re a one-percenter club. They don’t live by the rules.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed.

  “Look. A bunch of years back some guy at the American Motorcycle Association said that ninety-nine percent of motorcyclists were law-abiding citizens and that most of the trouble was caused by the others who gave motorcyclists a bad name. Some folks took this up as a badge of honor. They’re the outlaws. The one-percenters. They don’t live by anybody’s rules but their own. It’s about freedom. They’re outlaws, but not necessarily criminals. Get it?”

  Adam nodded. Tugg was so free that he wasn’t even a one-percenter. He was a millionth percenter. He didn’t want to live by anybody’s rules. Not even a motorcycle club. And he was giving that up for Adam. But would it work?

  “So when do you have to start these chores, then?” Adam said.

  “We’re doing one now.”

  “What?”

  “We’re making a delivery.”

  Adam turned to look out the back window at the truck bed. “Is that what’s under the tarp?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What is it? Drugs? Guns?”

  “No, Adam. Were you listening just now? Not everything the clubs do is illegal.”

  “So what’s in the back, then?”

  “Toys.”

  Chapter 18

  “Toys?” Adam said. “We’re driving to Ashland to deliver toys? Please tell me it’s to a foster home where Emma might be.”

  “Sorry, can’t say that’s the plan,” Tugg said. “When I got to the Ontario charter this morning and introduced myself, they asked me to make a toy run. I couldn’t say no. They asked me who I was running with and when I said your name, they called a contact from the probation department in Portland. He said you were wanted on a twenty-three year old warrant. I immediately called Kate and she told me the rest. I guess you’d just talked to her.”

  “So is there a problem?” Adam said.

  “There is for them. Like I said, Adam, outlaw ain’t illegal. You’re the illegal one. They told me not to wear my cut today, even outside the truck. They don’t want any flak coming back at the club if you get arrested. They lent me the truck and said you could ride with me, but that’s it. We’re due back in 24 hours.”

  “So an outlaw motorcycle club is worried that I might give them a bad name?” Adam said.

  “Enjoy your notoriety. The clubs are doing everything they can to clean up their image. That’s why the toy run. The big clubs have been doing charity work for years. They want to make it clear to the community that they’re not the mafia or anything. They’re free souls and want to be left alone, but they aren’t a threat to society. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when I saw one of their old ladies working at CPS. The one-percenters are the ones who beat the shit out of the child molesters in prison. They’d do anything for kids.”

  Adam had an image of Santa Claus in a leather jacket riding on a chopper. This was insanity. Emma needed to be rescued now. But what was a better plan? Breaking into CPS? Threatening somebody? Adam was a fugitive. If he got caught, Emma might be gone for good. If Tugg thought this was the way to go, maybe it was. For now. As long as they kept their heads down, maybe it would work.

  “Okay, so what should I be doing?”

  “You’re doing it.”

  “Bullshit, I’m not just gonna sit around while my baby girl’s out there. Maybe we should split up. You’re the one who’s trying to join the club. You can drop me in Bend and I’ll hitch back to Portland. There’s gotta be some information I can pick up—”

  “You’ll get caught,” Tugg said. “You need to find Emma but you also need to hide. And what better place for a guy like you to hide than a motorcycle club?”

  “You mean gang.”

  “I mean club.”

  Adam blew out his breath.

  “How do you know so much about all this?” Adam said.

  Tugg looked at him. “C’mon Adam, look at me. Give me a helmet and I’m a fucking Viking. They came to me when I was working as a mechanic down in Flagstaff. They started asking me questions. A good mechanic is a val
uable asset. I went on a couple of bike runs and a couple of parties. But it wasn’t for me. I didn’t want the responsibility. It’s not like you can join and then get out again. It’s not like the Air Force. There’s no such thing as a discharge. Once you’re in an outlaw club, you’re in for life.”

  “You make it sound like they own you or something,” Adam said.

  “That’s about right.”

  “Well, if it’s not illegal, what’s so bad about that? We’re out on the road anyway. Now you’ve got some brothers.”

  Tugg pulled the truck over in a cloud of dirt and turned to Adam. “Adam, what the fuck? You don’t know what you’re talking about. This is dangerous stuff. Violent. I’m expected to do anything they ask. Anything. And yes, they’d do it for me too, but so what? I’m loyal to you, okay? We’re brothers. I get that. But you think I want to get in a bar fight and back somebody up just because he was too drunk to know he was acting like an asshole to someone’s wife? And there’s a lot of other shit too, that I can’t tell you about. I’ll be looking over the horizon at jail for the rest of my life.”

  “Tugg, calm down. I get it. But we’re not in any danger now, are we? We’re just delivering toys. As long as the cops don’t pull us over, I think we’re fine.”

  “You don’t know shit,” Tugg said, pulling back onto the highway.

  “What?” Adam said. “How could delivering toys be dangerous?”

  “It isn’t always, but it is today.”

  “What?”

  Tugg hesitated, then spit it out. “Because we’re driving through The Reapers’ territory to do it. The club said they didn’t just want the toys delivered, they wanted to make a statement by cutting through rival territory. It would’ve been easier to go across the Indian reservation and stay on Route 20 all the way to Bend, but they said no. That’s why we’re in Idaho. We’ve got to turn back into Oregon a few miles south of here and then we’ll be in Reapers’ land. Believe me, they’ll see us.”

  “Can’t we wait till nighttime?”

  “Twenty-four hours, remember?”

  Adam felt his pulse bump up. “How will they know us?” he asked. “I thought they told you not to wear your vest.”

  “That’s for law enforcement,” Tugg said. “The cops don’t know what they’re looking at unless they’ve seen it on MSNBC.”

  “So how will The Reapers know?”

  “We’re flying a flag of our own. On the tailgate. Big as a picture.”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “And you probably can’t read graffiti either, can you? Believe me, if you knew what you were looking at, you’d shit your pants. They’ll notice. Any biker would.”

  Adam looked out the back window again. “So what are we supposed to do, then?”

  Sheaville eight miles ahead. Welcome to Oregon.

  Tugg lit a cigarette. “You tell me. You’re the one with the shotgun.”

  Chapter 19

  Adam never thought that road noise could be so loud, but after a full hour of scanning every dot on the horizon for motorcycles, he decided to close his eyes for a minute and just listen for them instead.

  Buzz...zzzz.

  His eyes flew open.

  “What’s up, Adam? If you want to sleep, just do it,” Tugg said.

  “How can I sleep? I’m listening for Reapers.”

  Tugg snorted. “Don’t look for trouble. It’ll come or it won’t.”

  “It usually does these days.”

  “Now your head’s right. But don’t drive yourself crazy. Alert, but calm. That’s what you’re looking for.”

  “Alert, but calm?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be alert and you be calm.”

  Adam smiled and settled back in his seat.

  Tugg was right. Adam was already exhausted from bouncing back and forth between the events of the last few weeks: the abuse allegation, Rachel’s death, Kate’s pregnancy, the court hearing, the fingerprint that led investigators to his role in a decades-old double homicide, and of course the granddaddy of them all: losing Emma.

  Adam closed his eyes again and focused on the even sound of buzzing tires on hot pavement. He imagined the rest. A flat plateau leading to a distant mountain range. Shades of blue light pulsing through scrub trees on either side of a two-lane highway. Emma out there somewhere, confused and alone. Kate waiting for him to make it right. An empty road ahead.

  Pavement buzzing. Hot sun.

  The wind sang a low note through the cracked window.

  Adam heard Tugg’s lighter flare and clink.

  Smell of the cigarette.

  Tugg was keeping an even speed. Good man.

  Shotgun under the seat.

  Drone of the tires.

  Bees in a mason jar.

  The sound of Tugg taking a long sweet drag.

  Kids on a swing pumping their feet as they arced toward sunshine.

  Slam of the back door screen.

  Adam, you want to ditch school Monday?

  It’s only a half day.

  Yeah, but your stepdad doesn’t know that. We can go to my house and have peanut butter sandwiches and grape wine. My mom’ll be at work.

  I’ve never had wine.

  You’ll hate it, but it’s got to be done.

  Why, if I’ll hate it?

  To become a man, dickhead. You’re fourteen, what are you waiting for?

  Laurie Buchansky.

  Ain’t we all.

  Whine of the motor.

  Smell of sweet onions from a farmer’s field.

  Manure and a pulse of water in the distance.

  Squirt guns in the back yard.

  I want my daddy to come get me.

  I’m coming, Emma.

  Where are you?

  I’ll be there as soon as I can.

  I want to go home!

  We’re looking for you, sweet girl.

  They said you’re not coming.

  That’s not true.

  Daddy, this place scares me!

  “Adam, wake up.”

  The mountains were a little closer, but the road looked the same.

  “What is it, Tugg?”

  Adam turned 360 degrees, scanning the horizon. Alert but calm had gone to shit.

  “I see it. Way out the back. Reapers?”

  Tugg checked the side mirror and shook his head. “Cop.”

  Chapter 20

  Tugg had the driver’s side window down and his hands on the steering wheel.

  “Don’t say a word unless he asks you a question, got it?”

  “Not sure about that,” Adam said. “I say we drop him.”

  “Adam! He’s a county sheriff. We’re probably in the clear if we can keep POPO from showing up.”

  “POPO?”

  “Pissed off peace officer.”

  Adam watched the cop walk past the driver’s window until he was about fifteen feet in front of the truck, then he turned and looked them dead in the eye through the windshield.

  “Hands in your lap,” Tugg said through his teeth. “Don’t reach down.” Tugg’s eye flicked to the keys, and his foot crawled nearer the gas pedal.

  The cop walked back to Tugg’s window. “Afternoon, boys. What’re you haulin’?”

  “Toys,” Tugg said smiling. “Got a bunch of kids in Grant’s Pass waitin’ on us.”

  The cop looked over at Adam. “This your truck?” he asked Tugg.

  “No, borrowed it from a friend,” Tugg said.

  “I’ll need to see some ID.”

  Tugg handed it to him.

  “Arizona license with Oregon plates. I’ll need to run the reg too.”

  Adam snapped the glove box open and gave it to Tugg, who handed it to the officer.

  “Guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get your ID too, fella,” he said to Adam.

  This was it. One query on the computer and it was over.

  “I’ll have to get it from my bag,” Adam said.

  “Okay, let me run this first. Don’t go anyw
here!” The cop gave his best redneck grin and walked back to the cruiser.

  Tugg watched him in the rearview mirror. When he was safely in the front seat, Tugg finally spoke.

  “Don’t touch the shotgun.”

  “Why the fuck not. We should take him now.”

  “Whoa. Slow down.”

  “I thought you said this was Plan Z?” Adam said. “If he checks my ID or frisks you, we’re done for.” Adam felt a splinter in his brain. “What about Emma?”

  “Yeah, but he’s checking my ID and plate right now,” Tugg said. “And if a cop turns up dead and they trace his last inquiry, who do you think they’ll find?”

  The motorcycles shot past at something less than the speed of light.

  “Fucking hell,” Tugg said. “Now we’re in shit.”

  “Do you think they saw us?”

  “Fifty-fifty,” Tugg said. “But we need to roll.”

  Adam looked back in the side mirror. Why did it always take cops so long to run a plate?

  The bikes grew smaller as the cop finally emerged from his cruiser and sauntered back to Tugg’s window.

  “Not stolen. Clean record. You boys are free to go.”

  “Thanks,” Tugg said, reaching for his keys.

  “Just one more thing,” the cop said. “Mind if I take a peek under your tarp? We got a lot of illegal guns comin’ through here.”

  Adam saw Tugg’s jaw clench.

  “Be my guest,” Tugg said.

  The cop walked behind the truck and lifted one end of the tarp, then signaled for Tugg and Adam to join him.

  “Here we go,” Tugg said. “Leave the shotgun and keep your hands by your side the whole time. I’ll drop him if we have to.”

  What the hell? So it wasn’t just toys?

  Adam hesitated so that Tugg got there first, then joined them behind the truck.

  The cop didn’t say a word. Neither did Tugg.

  Adam’s arms felt dead. No weapon. Nowhere to run.

  “Not sure what to make of this thing on your tailgate,” the cop said. “Latin? My grandson studies it in school. No light Mess or um Tim ear.”

  “Nolite Messorem Timere,” said Tugg.

  “What’s it mean?”

  “Don’t fear the reaper,” Adam said.