by Dani Pettrey
He exhaled. “I have no idea.”
She bit her lip, trying to cut off the tears.
He clasped her hand. “I’m not saying we should quit investigating the Mongols and their link to Karli, but . . .”
“One talk with Detective Robertson and you’re ready to believe their innocence.”
“I highly doubt any of them are innocent. But of Karli’s murder, I’m not so sure they’re guilty.”
“What was it that changed your mind so quickly?” She was a fool for asking; she knew exactly what had done it. It was the same things that had cast a shadow of doubt in her own mind of the Mongols’ involvement, though she wouldn’t admit it yet. She couldn’t. Not when doing so would mean all their hard work had been in vain and Reef would once again become the only viable suspect.
“Looking at it logically—the timeline, the fact Karli played no role in what they saw as Michelle’s betrayal. . . . When it comes down to it, I’ve got a bad feeling it’s not going to pan out, but I hope I’m wrong.”
“You’ve got a feeling? Well, that’s a first.” She tried to lighten her swiftly declining hope with a forced laugh.
He glanced over at her with a weak smile. “Seems you’ve unleashed all sorts of feelings in me.”
41
Landon worked to keep his voice even, to not react to the news on the other end of the line as Piper climbed back in the car with a bag of food. She had barely eaten breakfast and he refused to let her skip lunch, so they’d stopped for fast food on their drive to Huntington Beach.
“Did you hear what I said?” Gage asked on the other end of the line. “I think we should switch hotels.”
“I agree. Someone working there must have ties to them.”
“Okay, so when we all get back, we’ll move.”
Piper handed him his soda.
Landon nodded his thanks. “Wait on that,” he said.
“On what?” Gage asked. “Moving?”
“Returning.” He was thankful Piper was intent on doling out their order. He prayed she wasn’t paying close attention. He didn’t want her to worry.
“Oh, so don’t head back to the hotel,” Gage said.
“Right. Not until we’re all there.”
“Gotcha. We’re heading to talk to John Terry’s wife now.”
“How did it go with Terry?”
“He says the Mongols had nothing to do with Karli’s death.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t want to.”
“I know the feeling.”
“Who was that?” Piper asked as soon as he hung up with Gage. She popped a fry in her mouth, and the delicious scent of peanut oil and warm potatoes filled the car.
“Gage.”
“How did it go? Did they get to speak with Terry?”
“Yeah. They are headed over to talk with his wife now.”
“What did Terry say?”
“Claimed he and the Mongols had no involvement.”
“Of course he did.” She slid a straw into her lemonade. “Why did you say ‘Not until we are all there’?”
Of course she’d been listening. She always listened. Though it was curious, she hadn’t asked whether Gage believed Terry or not. “Just that we can all discuss everything we’ve learned in detail tonight when we’re all together.”
“Good idea.” She bit into her burger. “Mmm.”
He chuckled. “Good?”
“Delicious.”
He smiled, thankful to see her appetite had returned. Ever since Todd had slipped her the Rohypnol, her desire for food had been meager, which was very unlike Piper. For such a slight thing, she normally maintained a hearty appetite.
“What?” she asked, mayo glistening on her lip.
Lips he ached to kiss. But he couldn’t take that liberty again, no matter how strong the urge, not until he’d laid it all on the table. And now was not the time. He’d waited this long to tell her he loved her—he could restrain himself a few more days, couldn’t he?
“Why are you staring at me?”
“Sorry. Just starving.”
“Eat your burger.”
“Right.” He loosened the wrapping, not at all hungry in that way.
Bryan Evans’s address led them to a tiny bungalow on Oceanside in Huntington Beach. It wasn’t fancy, but the view was stunning. The blue house with white shutters sat relatively silent at their approach; only the soft melody of a wind chime and the rhythmic pounding of the surf could be heard. A Harley sat out front.
Piper looked at it. “I’d say we’re in the right place.” Now Karli’s fear of motorcycles made sense. Every time she’d heard the distinct sound, she must have feared they’d found her.
“Old habits die hard,” Landon said, rapping on the door.
No answer.
“He said he’d be here.” Piper peered in the front window. The interior was neat—white wicker furniture, a handful of hanging plants, a small decorated palm tree in place of a traditional fir—but no sign of Bryan Evans.
“Let’s try around back.”
A narrow stone path led around to the rear. The gate unlocked, they entered through, passing a weather-beaten deck and on to the beach.
A man sat at the water’s edge, his surfboard propped upright in the sand beside him. A golden retriever frolicked in the waves before him.
Piper looked to Landon and he shrugged.
Taking off their shoes, they crossed the warm sand. It was finer than that of Yancey’s shores—fewer rocks and a lighter shade of caramel, but Piper preferred Yancey, all the same. It was home. It was where she belonged.
“Mr. Evans,” Landon called over the crashing waves. “Bryan Evans?”
The man turned. He had dirty blond hair, the length a tad longer than was typical for his age. His skin was tan and weathered. A smattering of wrinkles fringed his eyes, eyes the same ocean blue as they’d seen in pictures of Karli.
“We spoke earlier,” Landon said, approaching with hand extended.
“Right, the cop.” Bryan got to his feet and shook Landon’s hand.
“Deputy Grainger,” Landon said. “This is Piper McKenna.”
Bryan moved to shake her hand but stopped short. “McKenna? As in Reef McKenna?” His perplexed gaze shifted from her to Landon.
“He’s my brother,” she said, knowing it was always best to be upfront with people.
“That explains why you’re searching for another killer.”
“Evidence suggests someone else was after Karli,” Landon said, surprising her.
Bryan rested his hands on his hips. “And you believe it was a Mongol?”
“That’s what we’d like your opinion on.”
“My opinion? Well, I’ll be glad to give it to you. It’s the least I can do for my baby girl, but I don’t know how helpful it’ll prove to be.”
“We appreciate any insight you can give.”
“Insight?” A sad smile crossed Bryan’s face. “It’s been a long time since anyone was interested in my insight.” He grabbed his board. “Let’s go talk on the deck.”
“Great.”
Bryan turned and whistled.
The retriever’s head shot up.
“Come on, Max.”
The dog bounded over.
“Nice place you got here,” Landon commented as they made the short walk across the beach to the deck.
“One of the families at my church owns it. They’re renting it to me at a really fair price while I get back on my feet.”
“That’s very generous of them.”
“To rent to a convict?”
“Yes.”
Bryan chuckled. “At least you’re honest.” He propped his board against the deck railing and took a seat at the old wooden picnic table, gesturing for Landon and Piper to do the same. “What do you want to know?”
“Do you think your daughter was murdered by a Mongol?” Piper asked.
“I’ve been told it wasn’t a Mongol’s deed.”
“A
nd you think they’d tell you the truth?”
“They were my brothers for thirty years. If they took out my kid, yeah I think they’d have the decency to tell me.”
Decency seemed a strange word for it.
“Are you still part of the Mongols?”
“Not actively.”
“Meaning?” Landon prodded.
“Meaning, I’m going a different direction with my life.”
Landon’s eyes narrowed. “And they just let you walk away?”
“Things are straight between us.”
“Why leave?” Piper asked. “What changed your mind?”
“I found God. Or rather I should say He found me.”
“And now?”
“I’m trying to live for Him.”
“Your parole officer said you volunteer a lot with the troubled youth of the area.”
“If I can steer even one away from the rotten choices I made and toward God, I’ll be thrilled.”
“What about your daughter?” Landon asked. “You ever try to contact her, to steer her away from poor choices after Michelle was killed?”
Bryan shook his head. “I had no idea where she was, and I figured she was better off without me after all these years.”
“Did you know about the hit beforehand?”
“I knew they were going to go after Michelle for what she’d done.”
Landon shifted, resting his arm on the table. “I imagine you were pretty upset with her yourself.”
“Disappointed’s more like it. It was a stupid move. She put our kid’s life in danger, got herself killed.”
“Why do you think she did it?” Piper asked.
Bryan swallowed, pain etched across his sun-weathered face. “It was my fault. I wasn’t upfront with her when we hooked up. We were married and she was pregnant with Angie before she figured it out.”
“That you were in the Mongols?”
“What the Mongols were all about, and the fact that I was deeply involved in their criminal activities.”
“How did she find out?”
“Micki—that’s what I called Michelle.” Bryan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as pain flickered across his face. He opened his eyes, and the wrinkles around them appeared deeper, graver. Perhaps he truly was sorry for what had happened, for his role in it all. “Micki was a bookkeeper for some lawyer downtown. Not long after Angie was born, she decided she wanted to be home more with the kid, so I arranged for her to work the books for the club.”
“The Mongols?”
“Our chapter’s at first, and then our region’s. Didn’t take long for her to figure it out.”
“Figure what out, exactly?” Piper asked.
“It was all there in the ledger—all the money that changed hands from arms sales, drugs, prostitution. It was the last one that really got to Micki. Some of the girls were young, and having a daughter made Micki extra sensitive to the situation.
“One afternoon things came to a head. Micki was working in the back office when this hooker brings her money to Nick—he was in charge of the girls. Anyway, Nick says the hooker is short. He figures she’s holding out. He’s high at the time, which doesn’t help, and things escalate. He punches her. She throws back. The hooker ends up dead.”
“And Michelle witnessed this?”
“Yeah, I was in the back unloading some new inventory. I heard a scream and caught Micki as she came busting out the rear door.”
“What happened then?”
“I took her home, settled her down. At least I thought I had, but Micki, she couldn’t let things lie. I guess she called that lawyer she’d worked for and he put her in touch with the Feds. I came home from work the next day and they were gone.”
“Michelle and your daughter?”
Bryan nodded, his face tightening.
“Did you know she’d gone to the Feds?”
“I was hoping she’d just run, but when the Feds busted in not long after, I knew she’d talked.”
“And you knew she’d be killed for it?”
He nodded once, his jaw growing rigid.
“You do anything to try and stop them?” Piper asked, indignant.
“You can’t stop vengeance.”
“And your daughter?” Didn’t he even care?
“I asked them to spare her. Said she was only a kid, that she hadn’t done anything.”
“You asked Terry?”
“No. I had no idea who they’d send. Those orders come from higher up.”
“So you spoke to someone higher up?”
He nodded.
“And?”
“He said he’d take it under consideration.”
“Did you warn the police it was coming?” Piper asked.
Bryan released a bitter laugh. “They knew it was coming. Every marshal on every case knows it. That’s why they attempt protective custody.”
“Statistically the marshals have a one hundred percent success rate when those in the program follow the rules.”
“Tell that to my wife.”
Interesting that he still referred to Michelle as his wife.
“What happened to your wife was extremely unfortunate and a rare exception,” Landon said. “But for all we know, she might have let one of the rules slip.”
Bryan lifted his chin. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“When Michelle was killed and your daughter survived, did you think they’d still go after her?” Piper asked, trying to keep the conversation on topic.
Bryan rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I hoped not. I hoped killing Micki would be enough.”
“And after five years went by, did you believe your daughter was safe?”
“Yeah, I figured they’d laid the matter to rest with Micki’s death.”
“And now? Now that your daughter’s been murdered?”
Bryan pinched the bridge of his nose, his agony evident.
“Do you think they killed her?” Piper asked him outright.
Bryan swallowed, his throat muscles flexing with the movement. “No.”
“How can you sound so certain?”
“They told me about Micki after the deed was done; they would have told me about Angie too.”
“Even now that you are no longer active?”
“I told you we’re square. A brother still tells his brother when one of his own is taken. Angie was dead and some outsiders were poking around. I called an old friend and asked for it straight. The Mongols didn’t kill Angie. Someone else took my baby’s life.” He coughed back tears. “They say she was killed up in Alaska?”
“In Yancey, our hometown.”
“Was she buried, given a proper funeral?”
“She’s still in the morgue.”
“I’m going to call my parole officer. Tell him I need to go lay my baby girl to rest. I didn’t do right by her in life. I need to at least do right by her in death.”
“Would you do it differently if given the chance?” Piper asked. Bryan seemed genuinely grieved by his daughter’s death, but she couldn’t decide if he was actually contrite over his past actions.
“If I could go back, I’d live my whole life differently. And maybe I’d still have my wife and child.” He rubbed his bristled chin with a shaky hand. “You have no idea what it’s like knowing the woman you love is dead because of you. That your child is on the run because of you. If Micki had just come to me instead of going to the Feds . . .”
“What would you have done?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to think I would have done the right thing—gotten us all out of there. But in all honesty, I probably would have continued to drag them right down with me.” He rubbed his brow.
“She was beautiful, you know. A surfer. She taught me how to ride a board, and I taught her how to ride a hog. I can still see her when I look at the waves, gliding over the top of them on her board, Angie no higher than my knees, perched on the board in front of Micki—both of them smiling.”
“Tha
t’s a good memory,” Piper said, reaching out to clasp his hand.
He swallowed, biting back tears and regret. “That’s all I’ve got left of them, and no one to blame but myself.”
A few minutes later, as they reversed out of Bryan Evans’s drive, Piper said, “He seemed genuinely remorseful.”
“I usually say once a criminal, always a criminal, but for once I agree. He seems like a changed man.”
“God can change even the hardest of hearts.” Only He could.
“The trouble is determining when God has really changed someone and when they’re just using their supposed newfound religion as an excuse to get your forgiveness.” Landon banked right onto the small neighborhood road.
“What do you mean?”
He tapped the wheel. “Just that a lot of people claim they are reformed when they get out of jail; many claim they’ve found God, but a liar knows what to say to try and manipulate you.”
What was he talking about? And why such intensity over a stranger? “Manipulate you into what?”
“Forgiving them. Starting over with them. Expecting you to trust them again.”
“How is Bryan trying to do any of that?”
“I’m not talking about Bryan.”
“Then who?”
Landon exhaled. “My father.”
42
Piper shifted restlessly as they followed Coastal Highway back down to Long Beach. While a handful of the houses they passed were decorated for Christmas, it was the boats that were truly decked out—ribbons, garland, lights. They definitely gave her something to stare at during the awkward ride. She was dying to ask, dying to know, but for once she knew she needed to wait for him to share.
He, unfortunately for her curiosity, kept the topics of conversation to the scenery and the weather—that is, when he bothered to speak at all. Mostly he’d remained silent since flooring her with the statement about his father, and she’d been scrambling to put the pieces together ever since.
Landon’s parents had divorced right around the time Landon started high school. His dad was quickly out of the picture. His mom remarried and moved to Florida with her new husband, and Landon had come to live with her family.
She’d been sheltered often as a child, coddled as the baby of the family, but surely she would have known if Landon’s dad was a criminal.