Renegade

by Shannon Myers

  “Hey, Red. I didn’t expect to see you until tonight.” My heart was still beating unsteadily as I sank down into my chair.

  Her expression never changed and, as she made eye contact with me, I realized she’d been crying. “I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I’m in trouble.”

  My mind immediately went to the Sons of Death. They’d figured out I was helping the club and gone after her. I was going to have to come clean about it all. I opened my mouth and hesitantly said, “Lauren—”

  She interrupted. “My mother was pulled over and arrested for driving under the influence and possession,” she paused as her voice cracked, “She didn’t do anything though. She’s clean.”

  This was one of the hard parts of my job—trying to comfort family members who believed their loved one wasn’t using again.

  I launched into the same spiel I’d spouted off hundreds of times before. “I know it’s hard to believe that she could betray your trust like this, but sometimes, the addiction is stronger than reason. We can’t ever know what goes through a user’s head when they relapse—”

  Lauren jumped up from her chair and leaned over the desk into my face. “Don’t you dare spout off the same shit you tell everyone else. I’m your girlfriend, goddammit and something about this is wrong!”

  I nodded and barely got out, “I get it,” before she was pacing my office, talking over me.

  “She called me, Mike. She sounded fine—scared, but sober. She said she’d overheard something she shouldn’t have and that’s why she was sitting in jail.”

  I grabbed a pen and began clicking it at random. “What did she overhear? Where was she when she overheard it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. She said it wasn’t safe to talk about it over the phone. She thought they might be listening.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Lauren had been played.

  I fought to keep any judgment out of my voice as I said, “Lauren, this is the same woman who stole your car six years ago. Who’s to say that she isn’t taking you for a ride right now?”

  Her mouth fell into a flat line and she asked, “How the hell did you know about that?”

  Shit.

  Grey told me. You know, after I helped him return the car to you. But, it’s fine because we weren’t together then.

  I kept my posture relaxed. “I’m a cop, Darlin’. Surely, you didn’t think that I wasn’t gonna run a background check on you.”

  I regretted saying it almost immediately, but I didn’t exactly have an alternative option.

  Lauren’s eyes darkened and her jaw clenched. “You ran a fucking background check on me without my consent? Who does that?”

  I waved my hand. “Look, just let me explain. I researched you—I wanted to get to know you better.”

  Yeah, that was worse.

  She shouted, “Then fucking ask me, asshole! That’s how people get to know each other. Not by running background checks on the other person without them knowing. Are you going to help me or not? She’s not using, I swear.”

  I tried to discreetly move my chair further back without her noticing. I got it. She refused to accept that she’d been screwed over once again and was clinging to this hope that—

  Unless…

  I pulled my burner from my back pocket and replied to the text from Grey.

  Me-

  “Female?”

  Within seconds, he responded.

  “Affirmative. Hold overnight.”

  Great.

  Her mother was being targeted by the Sons and Grey wanted her held until he could neutralize the threat. And there was absolutely no way for me to tell her any of it.

  I pressed my mouth into a flat line. “Lauren, I’m not sure it’s such a good idea to take any action until we get all the facts.”

  A flush worked its way up her throat and into her face, and this time it had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with murderous rage.

  She pointed a shaking finger at me. and hissed, “Oh, so you’ll bend over backwards for David, but not me? I’m not even asking you to cover up a murder—all I need is for my mother to be taken to a secure location so that I can find out what’s going on,” she retrieved her coat off the back of the chair and slipped it on before adding, “I guess that’s too much for a crooked cop to handle though.”

  I got up and walked over to her. “Just hear me out. I can’t bend the rules on this one. I need you to trust me on this. It’s all going to be fine.”

  The words were right there in my throat. She looked absolutely devastated and I wanted to fix it. I wanted to tell her that her mother was much safer in here than she was on the streets. I couldn’t do it though. I wasn’t willing to involve Lauren in Grey’s shit.

  I gripped her shoulder lightly and she wrenched backward out of reach. “I can’t even look at you right now, Mike.”

  Then, without another word, she turned and walked out of my office. I didn’t go after her—I couldn’t. If I told her about the club, I’d have to admit how I got mixed up with them in the first place.

  ‘Hey Lauren, I know you’re upset, but it’s going to be okay. I’m in deep with an outlaw MC and they’re keeping your mom safe by locking her up. How’d I end up in bed with criminals? Well, Darlin’, I’m the son of a psychopathic biker. Oh, and by the way, I committed my first murder at eighteen and they covered it up. So, I guess I owe them. Oh, and by the way, do you wanna marry me?’

  Yeah, there was no way that conversation was going to go any better than the one I just had.

  So, I was left alone with a diamond ring and a shit load of guilt.

  Lauren

  January 2015

  I sat in bed that night, wide awake and checking my cell phone every few minutes for any activity. I’d worn my nails down to nothing more than bloody quicks.

  Damn you, Mike Sullivan.

  He hadn’t come after me and he sure as hell hadn’t changed his mind at the last minute. Had he known how hard it was for me to approach him in the first place? Did he even care?

  I’d been planning to lay around and binge watch Investigation Discovery on the couch before meeting Mike for dinner. And then I got the call.

  An automated voice had recited, “This call will be recorded and monitored. You have a collect call from—Monica—an inmate in the Lubbock County Detention Facility. Your telephone service provider does not allow collect calls. If you would like to accept this and future calls, you must establish a pre-pay account. We accept Visa and Mastercard. If you would like to set up an account and accept this call, please press four.”

  I’d grabbed my purse and handed over my emergency credit card information before it dawned on me that my mother was in jail.

  “Lauren?”

  I’d placed the card back in my wallet with shaking hands. “Mom? What happened?”

  She’d choked up. “I got arrested for DUI and possession of heroin—I’m still clean though, I swear.”

  I’d reacted much like Mike had—I was livid. Tears had stung my eyes as I took her words in. “I can’t talk to you right now, Monica.”

  She’d betrayed me. Months of sobriety blown for a fix of heroin. It wasn’t meth, but maybe she’d decided to switch things up. I’d known it, hadn’t I? Surely, I hadn’t been naïve enough to think that she’d stay sober while in the middle of a biker gang.

  She’d sucked a breath in. “Lauren, listen to my voice. You’ve been around me when I’m using. Do I sound fucked up right now? I think I’m being targeted.”

  It was the stuff of crime thrillers, but there was something in her voice that said she was telling the truth. My own voice had cut off in a sob as I asked, “What happened?”

  “I can’t say much, but I overheard something I shouldn’t have and I think this is retaliation for that. I know they’re monitoring this call,” she went quiet for a second. “Lauren, I need you to get me out of here.”

  My brain had been in a thick fog. I had no idea how to get som
eone out of jail. “Mon—what about Torch?” I was going to call her Monica, but then felt that Mom was more appropriate. Instead, I’d ended up with some weird hybrid of her name.

  She’d sighed, “I—I can’t call him. Go to Mike—tell him what’s happened. He’ll know what to do.”

  Mike?

  The thought of involving him in this was almost worse than finding out she was using again.

  “Mom, I can’t tell him.” And then I thought about what he’d done for David. If anyone was capable of helping me clear her name, it was him.

  “Lauren, I swear to you on my life that I am sober right now. I need you to tell him—hell, he can come do a blood test on me now. He is the only one who will know what to do.”

  I’d thought she was putting an awful lot of faith in someone who solved crimes for a living, instead of committing them, but I agreed. “I’m going to get dressed and head down to the station now. Will they let me see you?”

  She’d tried to mask her sobs by coughing. “Not unless you’re my lawyer. Listen, Lauren, I love you…okay?”

  I froze. We didn’t say stuff like that to each other. “I,” I started and stopped, “I—Listen, Mom, Mike will have you out of there in no time and we’ll figure this out.”

  I didn’t know how to say it.

  Once we’d hung up, I’d sobbed into a couch cushion before rushing down to the station. It had all been for nothing though. Helping his friend hide a body was one thing, but god forbid he actually do something for the woman he was fucking.

  I punched the mattress in frustration. “Motherfucker!”

  I glanced down at my cell phone again, begging for a text…a phone call…anything that would let me know Monica was getting out.

  Seeing that it was after five and giving up on any thoughts of sleep, I grabbed my laptop and fired it up. As I typed in my search query, site after site appeared on what to do and who to call in cases of DUIs and DWIs.

  And none of it looked good.

  Words like ‘Class A’ and ‘Class B’ misdemeanors leapt off the page. If those charges didn’t disappear, then she was going to be looking at fines and jail time.

  Maybe I needed to call Mike and apologize for my outburst. I wasn’t sorry at all, but I didn’t want Monica spending one more night in a cell.

  There was a knock on my front door just as I picked up my phone. He’d finally come to his senses. I stalked down the hallway and threw open the front door. “I knew you’d—” The words froze on my tongue as I took in the two uniformed officers standing on my porch.

  One had salt and pepper hair and a thick mustache that probably got all sorts of food caught in it throughout the day. The other was a young female with short and spiky blonde hair. They both displayed their badges and she asked, “Are you Lauren McGuire?”

  I nodded dumbly. “Why are you here?”

  Was Mike sending cops to talk to me to now? I didn’t know if it was lack of sleep or just the stress from yesterday, but I was thoroughly confused.

  She continued, “I’m Officer Sorensen and this is Officer Richards. May we come in?”

  I nodded again and held open the door. Officer Richards closed it gently behind him as Officer Sorensen led me over to the couch. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Wasn’t I supposed to be the one to offer that?

  She sat down next to me. “Ms. McGuire, I’m sorry to wake you, but Monica McGuire was found dead early this morning.”

  I stared blankly at her, waiting for the camera crew and Mike to come through the front door and tell me it was all a joke. A bubble of hysterical laughter broke free, but I managed to wheeze out, “Nice one. Did Mike put you up to this? My mother is currently sitting in a jail cell, so I’m pretty sure you’re wrong.” I pointed at the male officer. “And why the fuck are you here? You haven’t said a goddamned word!”

  Officer Sorensen patted my leg. “I understand it may be difficult to process, but the identification recovered matched her information.”

  I shook my head and scooted further away from her. “No, she’s in jail. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. I already tried getting her out, but there has to be a bail hearing and I was told that could take a couple of days—she’s not dead.”

  Officer Richards spoke up. “The decedent was in possession of your contact information among other…items. Her effects are being held for you at the Coroner’s office.”

  I jumped up off the couch. “Decedent? What are you—Sherlock Holmes? I don’t know why you’re not listening to me. Monica is sitting in jail—has been since yesterday morning. She was charged with possession and DUI—they don’t let you out for that when no one has posted bail!” My chest was heaving, but neither officer reacted.

  Officer Sorensen just stood up and walked over to me. “Would you like for us to take you down to the coroner’s office to make a positive identification.”

  I bit my lip, but nodded. “I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong person.”

  I slipped on some boots before following them downstairs and climbing into the back of their cruiser. We drove across town in silence. I was tempted to call Mike, but I didn’t know what to say.

  Hadn’t we said it all in his office earlier?

  He wasn’t willing to help me get Monica out. It hadn’t left us with a lot of options for our relationship. I was going to do whatever it took to find out who set her up. He’d made it clear he didn’t feel the same.

  We parked and both officers led me to a small room with a table, some chairs, and an upholstered love seat. Monotonous elevator music played softly in the background. I brushed my wild hair off of my forehead and sat down at the table, feeling more tired than I could ever remember being in my life.

  Another woman entered, holding a clipboard, and sat down across from me. “Hello, Lauren. My name is Brynn Kelly and I’m a crisis counselor here. I’m going to be with you as long as you need me to be.”

  I shook my head. “This isn’t going to take up much of your time. My mother is sitting in jail—there’s been a mix up.”

  Brynn nodded encouragingly. “Okay then,” she gestured toward her clipboard. “The identification will be done by photograph right here in this room. The photograph will be upside down—when you turn it over, you’ll see a face surrounded by a blue sheet. She looks like she’s sleeping. I can stay here as long as needed until you feel comfortable turning the photograph over.”

  She placed the clipboard in front of me and I stared at the back of the picture for a brief second before flipping it over. I wanted to get this over with and prove them—

  All the air was suddenly sucked from the room. It was my mother’s face staring back at me.

  “No…” I felt bile rise up in my throat as the blood left my face. I briefly managed to get my hand up over my mouth before I began dry heaving.

  Brynn grabbed a trash can and held it out for me.

  I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth weakly. “I don’t understand—she was supposed to be in jail.”

  She began going over resources and placed a couple of pamphlets in my hands. I stared at them blankly before the rage kicked in. I tore them in half and threw them to the ground before launching the trash can into the beige wall. “Jesus Christ!” I wailed. My legs gave out and I fell into a heap on the carpet.

  I swore I could see myself crumpled on the floor as I hovered a few feet above my body. It didn’t matter how much I inhaled, I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.

  I screamed until my throat was raw, while Brynn sat patiently nearby. I wanted to punch her until she reacted—until she felt my pain as deeply as I did.

  I forced out through clenched teeth, “Who would do this to her? Who would hurt her like this?”

  Brynn shook her head sadly. “She was found with a needle in her arm. The coroner is running a screen on her, but it looks like an overdose at this point.”

  “No.” I wasn’t accepting that.

  My mother had gotten so
ber—she wouldn’t have gone back to that. She swore to me.

  I’d believed her. I’d built up this wall over the years, knowing there was going to be a day when she went too far and OD’ed, but that was then. I’d seen how good she was sober. She’d worked so hard—gotten her GED. She was supposed to start school in a couple of weeks.

  “I need to talk to her,” I moaned. “She hasn’t bought her books yet. She needs to order them or they won’t be here in time for class.”

  I was rambling, but everything had become surreal. She wasn’t gone…not when we were just starting to figure things out.

  Brynn began talking softly again, but my ears rang, drowning her out.

  I continued, “We’re supposed to have dinner and she wanted me to help her find something that looked nice to impress Mike. Do you think Dillard’s would have something?”

  She knelt down and took my hand in hers, her eyes shiny. “Lauren, we’re going to get you some help. Okay?”

  I tried inhaling again, but could only manage a shallow breath. “You need to help her. Just tell her that I’m waiting in here. Go get her!”

  My sobs turned violent again and I curled up in the fetal position until paramedics arrived.

  I never got to tell her that I loved her too.

  Four hours and some sedatives later, I lay on my couch, staring at the box on the coffee table.

  It was a heartbreaking sight, seeing someone’s entire life condensed into one box.

  Monica had been so much more than four walls of cardboard. She’d been a rape survivor. A mother. A GED recipient. A woman who had figured out her purpose in life, only to have it snuffed out at the age of forty-four.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep warm. The hospital had contacted Josué and Isaac and they’d left to come to me immediately.

  My front door burst open and I jumped up in fright. Mike’s eyes were wild as he took me in.

  “I just heard,” he exclaimed breathlessly as he crossed the room to me.