by Jessie Cooke
Blair didn’t fly back to her parents’ home in Stockton. She flew back to her own home in Fresno. When she got out of the cab in front of her little house, she felt sick to her stomach. The crime scene tape had been taken down, but there was still a piece of it that had blown into the rose bush on the side of the house. She could see the wooden hatch that led down into her basement. It was locked up tight, but just looking at it sent her thoughts reeling again, back to that day. She was torn about being back in her own home. She wanted to be there, and she didn’t want fear to win. At the same time, she knew her cozy little house was never going to be the same. Its sanctity had been violated and there would always be something there to remind her of Mouse’s threats, or the way the blood and brain matter exploded from his head when Wolf pulled the trigger of his gun.
She let herself into the house and closed and locked the door behind her, before she dropped her bag and looked around. Her eyes went to the kitchen island. She couldn’t see the floor beyond it...the floor where Granite had very nearly bled to death, and the one that had contained the remnants of Mouse’s brains. It was hard for her to reconcile the gentle, sweet man that she’d spent Saturday night with, with the hardened, empty-eyed man that had been in her kitchen that day. If she hadn’t watched Wolf kill Mouse with her own eyes, the fact that she knew him in a different light now, might make her doubt that he did it altogether. Reluctantly, she started toward the kitchen, but a hard knock on the door behind her nearly caused her to piss her pants. Spinning around quickly she said:
“Who is it?”
“Miss Newman, it’s Detective Garner from Fresno P.D.”
Blair frowned. She hadn’t spoken much to Wolf about it, but following the incident and after waking up in the hospital, she’d spoken to the detectives on the case at length. She’d told them what Mouse’s intentions were and how Granite had done his best to save her before Mouse nearly killed him. She told them about grabbing the frying pan and using all of her strength to hit Mouse in the face with it. Detective Garner asked her several times if Mouse was unconscious after she hit him. She’d glossed over it even then, as much as she could. The truth was that she didn’t know. She’d been sitting there on the floor, thinking about getting help, and for however long that was, Mouse didn’t move. She told herself that didn’t mean he was unconscious...he could have just been dazed and getting ready to strike again. Garner asked her at one point whether or not Wolf “had” to kill him. She didn’t know how to answer that. She wanted him dead, and she was glad Wolf had killed him. But did he “have” to? Who knew? She’d told the detective that she wasn’t looking at Mouse when Wolf shot him. That much was true. She heard the gun and that was what drew her attention. For all she knew, Mouse could have been sitting up.
She went over and looked out the peephole. When she saw that it was, in fact, Detective Garner, she pulled open the door and invited him inside. She was surprised he had come alone, without his partner Detective Meeks, and as soon as they were seated, and she’d offered him something to drink she said:
“Detective Meeks isn’t joining us?”
“No. That’s actually why I’m here. See, Detective Meeks has been the head of this task force for quite a few years now. Before that, he worked the Westside. He’s known Xavier Lee...Wolf...most of his life. I spoke to the district attorney after Detective Meeks turned in his report and we have both come to the conclusion that maybe he’s too close to this to be impartial.”
“What does that mean?”
“Detective Meeks is off the case. I’ll be working it now, with the rest of the task force...but Meeks is out.”
“I guess I’m a little confused about what else there is? You keep saying ‘case,’ like there’s an ongoing investigation. You’ve spoken to all of the witnesses, right? You know that Mouse was killed because he was trying to kill me. What else can I tell you?” Blair didn’t like the idea of this detective asking to have his partner removed from a case. She had worked closely with law enforcement long enough to know that wasn’t the way it normally worked.
“Miss Newman, can you explain to me what happened one more time, because I’m a little confused.”
“About?”
“Well,” he said, flipping through a small notebook he had in his hands. “It says here in my notes that you were able to grab that frying pan and swing it at Mr. Crane, knocking him to the floor, right after he was stabbed in the thigh by Mr. Parker.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Well, then later you told us that when Wolf came in, Mouse was coming after you and that’s why he shot him.”
“I never said he was coming after me.”
“Oh...you didn’t?”
“No. I said I wasn’t looking at him when Wolf came in, but he could have been coming after me.”
“But he could also have been unconscious, couldn’t he?”
She sighed. “Anything is possible,” she said. The detective cocked an eyebrow and she realized that had been a poor choice of how to put it. “Look, I’m going to say this one more time. Wolf killed him to protect all of us. It wasn’t like it was an execution...it was self-defense.”
“He was defending himself? Was Mouse going after him? I mean, that’s what self-defense would imply.”
“Mouse was trying to kill me, and he was suicidal. He told me that we were both going to die that day.”
“I guess he was half right. But then again, he did know Xavier Lee well.”
“What is in this for you?” Blair asked him.
“In it for me? The same thing that should be in it for you...justice.”
“Justice for an animal who would rape and kill an innocent woman?”
“Justice for a human being who was put down like an animal.”
Blair knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to make her feel guilty about being okay with Wolf killing Mouse. But he was too late, she already felt guilty about it, because she wasn’t just alright with it...she was still glad that he was dead, whether he saw it coming or not.
“Detective Garner, if not for Xavier Lee, I would be dead and so would Michael Parker. He saved our lives. I don’t care if that lunatic was conscious or not when he did it. He shot Mouse to protect us. Now, if there’s anything else you need from me, I’m afraid you’ll have to get it from my attorney from this point forward.”
“Miss Newman...” She ignored him and stood up.
“I’ll show you out,” she said.
16
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.” Wolf and Manson were working on some financials that Granite had directed them on from the hospital bed he still occupied. He wasn’t able to speak yet, thanks to the wires holding his jaws together, but he could communicate through writing and he’d sent them both very specific emails and texts with regards to financial business that needed to be taken care of. Wolf hated this shit...still...but even being elbow deep in spreadsheets hadn’t dampened the good mood he’d come home in from Vegas.
“Got a problem with a guy being happy?”
Manson chuckled. “Nope, would just like some of it myself.”
“Well, you ain’t getting none of what made me so happy,” Wolf told him.
“You gonna see her again?”
“What makes you think it’s about a woman? Maybe I’m just this damned happy because Jacob Wright and his team are going to sponsor our gym. We’re about to have one hell of a successful business on our hands.”
Manson cleared his throat. “Yeah, boss, I was sure that’s what it was that was making you smile like you slept with a hanger in your mouth.”
Wolf laughed. “Fine, it was the woman, but I’m not talking about her to you. She’s not some cheap club girl.”
Manson grew serious and said, “But she does work for Parole...”
“And that has what to do with anything? I’m not on parole.”
“No, but a lot of us are...and some of us are in those prisons she works at. I’m just
wondering if she would be able to reconcile the two.”
“First of all, she and I haven’t even talked about seeing each other again, much less getting into any kind of relationship where we’d have to worry about any of that. And second...you met Dax Marshall’s old lady, right? She comes from a whole family of cops. She was a cop...”
“Was, Boss. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to bring you down. I’m just saying it’s something to think about. Angel Brady chose Dax and the Southside Skulls over her career. Not everyone would be willing to do that...and a career in law enforcement is going to mix with a relationship with an MC like oil and water.”
Wolf could feel his blood pressure rising. Manson always had to be the voice of reason. Truth be told, it was what made them such a good team. Wolf often led with his emotions and his serious, somewhat uptight VP was often the link between what he was feeling and what he needed to be thinking. But in this case, Wolf didn’t want to hear it, even if Manson was right. Blair said she’d call him. Wolf didn’t know if she would or not, but he promised himself that he would leave it up to her. Truth was, he hadn’t thought about any of the things Manson was bringing up...and he didn’t want to. He’d wait and see if she even wanted to see him again and take it from there.
“Let’s concentrate on the finances, okay?” Manson nodded. He was smart enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. Wolf glanced at his phone. It had been over twenty-four hours since he’d seen Blair already.
“Finances,” Manson said. Wolf looked up and glared at him. Manson wasn’t fazed by it. He chuckled softly but before either of them could say another word, Bruf was at the door.
“Hey, Boss, we might have a situation.”
“Situation?” Wolf was on his feet, instantly primed and ready to go.
“Police are at the door.”
“Police? What the fuck do they want?”
Bruf grimaced before saying, “You. They have a warrant for your arrest...and one for the clubhouse too.”
“Motherfucker!” Wolf had been worried at first, but Meeks assured him that the DA would be a fool to file charges with the evidence they had. Granite and Blair had both told them how crazed and homicidal Mouse was and that if Wolf hadn’t killed him, he might have killed both of them. Granite’s medical state and Blair’s bruises were evidence of that as well. By the time he left for Vegas he had stopped worrying about it. He really hadn’t even thought about it in days...in the days since he’d been with Blair especially. Of course, both of those days had simply been filled with thoughts of her. He’d let his guard down, and now his club might have to pay for it. Had he been expecting the police, they would have had the club cleaned from top to bottom. As it was, half of his crew might be holding things that would get them arrested or have their parole violated themselves. He was pissed...mostly at himself.
Wolf stormed out of the office and into the front room of the clubhouse. There were a handful of people there and they all fell silent as soon as he walked in. Detective Garner, another guy in a suit, and four uniformed officers stood near the door. Garner had a paper in his hand and when he saw Wolf he said, “Mr. Lee, I have a warrant here for your arrest.”
“For what?” Wolf asked. He already knew, but he wasn’t going to give the asshole an inch.
“We’re placing you under arrest for the murder of Rick Crane, aka Mouse. Do you have any weapons on your person now?”
“No.”
Garner motioned to one of the officers, who walked over and asked Wolf to turn around. When the officer took out his handcuffs Bruf said, “Why do you need to cuff him? He’s being cooperative.” Wolf could hear the anger in Bruf’s voice. He was worried about his SA. He didn’t want him doing anything stupid and getting himself arrested. He tried to communicate with him via a look, asking him silently to calm down and back off. Wolf put his hands behind his back and while Garner read him his rights, the officer cuffed him. When that was done, Garner said:
“We also have a warrant to search this clubhouse and your home.”
Wolf didn’t acknowledge Garner, but he looked at Manson and said, “Read the warrant. Make sure they stay within its parameters.” Garner snorted. Wolf still didn’t look at him. He had one question in his mind, but he wasn’t going to give Garner the satisfaction of asking it...where in the hell was Meeks?
Wolf spent three hours trying to stay calm. It was hard for the first fifteen minutes; by the third hour it had become impossible. He wanted to pick up one of the folding chairs and slam it into the walls. He wanted to pound his fists on the two-way window until the glass shattered. He wanted to slam his fist into Garner’s smug face...if the fucker ever got there. He had just picked up a chair when he heard the door opening. He set it down and glared at the two-way glass. He knew they were out there watching him...making him fucking paranoid.
“How are you doing, Mr. Lee?”
“Where’s my attorney?” Garner looked like he could give less than two shits how Wolf was feeling. That was okay; Wolf could give less than two shits if he cared. When he first arrived, though, he’d told the arresting officer that he wanted his attorney called. Three hours later, he still wasn’t there.
“He was notified that you were here and you wanted to see him. He was in court, I’m told. He said he’d be here by two, which is in about ten minutes. It’s why I waited. I’m not going to ask you to talk to me before he gets here though, so no worries.”
Wolf so badly wanted to tell the smug son of a bitch to go fuck himself, but again, he resisted. Instead, he pulled one of the chairs out with the toe of his boot and sat down. Folding his hands behind his head, he tipped the chair back slightly and rocked back and forth on his toes. Garner smiled and took a seat across from him. For the next ten minutes, they stared at each other. It was only when Harlow, the attorney that the club kept on retainer, showed up that Wolf finally asked that question: “Where is Meeks?” Garner got that self-satisfied look on his face again as he said:
“He’s been taken off this case. I’m in charge of it now.”
Harlow was looking at some paperwork that Garner had given him. It seemed like it was taking him forever to read through it, but finally he looked up and said, “I don’t see anything new. The report made by the lead detective last week said that my client acted in defense of the other people in the room...who by the way had already been seriously injured by Rick Crane. That report hasn’t been updated...so why the sudden arrest?”
“The former lead detective had...how should I put this? His relationship with your client crossed boundaries. He acted more as a friend than a law enforcement agent. When a second look was taken at the case and witnesses were re-interviewed, the evidence tells a different story.”
“What witnesses?” Wolf asked.
Garner’s smile became even more smug, if that was possible. He looked Wolf directly in the eyes and said, “Miss Newman remembered a few things that she hadn’t before.” The anger Wolf was feeling had kept him going all day, but suddenly he felt paralyzed. His chest hurt and his hands began to shake. He took them off the table and tucked them in his lap. The last thing he wanted was to show Garner any sign of weakness at all.
“What things?” Wolf asked.
Garner, still smiling, looked over at Harlow and said, “You may want to read her interview...the second one.”
Harlow glanced at Wolf and back at the detective and said, “I’d like some time to speak to my client in private.”
“Sure, I’ll get some coffee. Can I get you gentlemen anything?” He stood up and paused. When neither of them spoke, he finally left the room. Wolf turned to Harlow then and said:
“What did she say?”
Harlow was thumbing through a small stack of papers, stapled together in the corner. He flipped back and forth from one report to the other. Wolf’s patience grew thin again, especially when Harlow took out a highlighter and began to underline things. Time passed, and in reality it could probably only be measured in seconds...but Wolf f
inally couldn’t take it any longer.
“Harlow! What the fuck did she say?”
The attorney sighed and looked up at his client. “It looks like she agreed that there was a possibility Mouse was already unconscious when you shot him. In other words, he was no longer a threat...and there was no need for you to put a bullet in his head as far as the DA is concerned. They’ll put her on the stand and ask her point-blank if he was still a threat. She’ll be hard pressed, after what she’s already told them, to say anything but no.”
17
Blair was still off work for at least the rest of the week, but she went to bed Sunday night and woke up Monday morning regretting that. After the strange interview with Detective Garner on Sunday afternoon, she had cleaned her house from top to bottom—well, not bottom, really. She couldn’t bring herself to go into the basement. She knew it was stupid and repeatedly told herself so, but every time she even reached for the door, she felt anxiety well up in her chest. So, she had done her best to clean the rest of it. The kitchen was the only place there was blood, thank goodness. There was plenty of it, splattered across the walls and cabinets and even all over the front of the refrigerator. She’d donned a pair of gloves and used a spray bottle filled with bleach and she had scrubbed every last surface.
After that was done, she started on the floor. Her father had helped her install a beige-colored Spanish tile the year before and as she scrubbed until her knuckles were bloody, she realized sadly that most of the bloodstains, especially where Granite and Mouse had lain, were not going to come out. The sight of them caused her mind to relive those moments, though, so finally, frustrated and tired, she’d gone out to the storage shed and gotten an old area rug her mother gave her when she first moved in. It was an ugly brown and green color and matched nothing in her kitchen, but she didn’t care, she just didn’t want to look at it any longer.