Chasing His Fox

by Debra Kayn

  Her mom pulled her shoulders. She hit the glass, screaming Nelson's name. He needed to leave and go hide.

  As if in slow motion, Nelson got off his motorcycle. Bright lights turned on him as uniformed officers rushed toward him.

  Nelson raised his hands. She cried out, pressing her face against the window, helpless to reach him.

  He fell to his knees, then his stomach, spreading his arms out to the sides. Policemen surrounded him, blocking Scarlett's view. No one had to tell her law enforcement was putting handcuffs on Nelson.

  He hadn't killed his dad.

  Had he?

  Part Two

  Chapter 11

  Scarlett

  Summer 1996

  DRAGGING HER FEET, Scarlett slipped her key into the lock and walked into the house. Being quiet, knowing her mom was asleep and had to get up early to work at the store in the morning, she tiptoed up the stairs.

  She tossed her bag in her bedroom and walked across the hallway to take a shower. Friday nights were busy at Riverside Bar. The Tarkio Motorcycle Club always showed up, and the weekly Dart Tournament always drew a crowd.

  The water warmed, and she stepped under the stream of spray. Only wanting to go to bed and get off her feet, she quickly washed, then got out to wrap a towel around her body.

  Returning to her room, she pulled back her bed covers, dropped the towel, and crawled between the sheets. She couldn't even find enough energy to worry about what her hair would look like in the morning after going to sleep with it wet or how she'd struggle to get the snarls out.

  Sleep was her best friend tonight.

  Except her body wouldn't relax. She kept thinking about Jerry's offer at work.

  The owner of Riverside wanted to move her up to the manager position. While she wasn't against the job and she'd like the pay raise, she worried about what others working at the bar would think, considering she was dating the owner.

  If she was wondering if Jerry played favorites by offering her the job, she could bet her wages that the other employees would wonder, too.

  Olivia and Wendy had worked there longer than her. Her four-year anniversary date was coming up in November. Yet, she had twice the hours put in than the other ladies, who worked part-time.

  Lorraine had only worked their two years. Scarlett yawned. Looking at all their qualifications, she would be the most likely one chosen for the job. But employees talked, and rumors were a constant battle at work.

  She was going to have to sit down and have a serious conversation with Jerry. They were at a point in their relationship where things were getting more serious.

  He'd mentioned falling in love with her recently, and instead of his declaration making her happy, she had a lot of anxiety over his feelings toward her. She liked him. A lot.

  She cared about him and enjoyed spending time with him. But there was something missing. Or, maybe she expected to feel more.

  When they were apart, she didn't miss him the way she knew she should. His attention wasn't always on her—and she liked that, though she knew she should expect more from him.

  She rolled over. Maybe the reasons why she wasn't feeling love for Jerry was because she fought the next step in their relationship more than she should.

  He could give her a good life. The sex was good. He was kind. People liked him.

  But the flutters and buzz of being with him never showed up.

  In some ways, Jerry reminded her of all her stepfathers she'd had over the years. He was there, but he wasn't there.

  The business distracted him, being a boss distracted him, and he had an ex-wife who not only distracted him but wanted him back. All his distractions made her put on the brakes.

  A rumble of a motorcycle filled her room. She sat up and strained to hear the direction of the noise. It wasn't odd to hear someone riding their bike in the neighborhood, but at three o'clock in the morning and so loud, the motorcycle was close.

  She looked toward the closed curtain. Periodically, over the last ten years, members of the Tarkio Motorcycle Club would stay at Steel Mechanics. For a while, after being released from prison, Ollie and Josh had stayed there, too.

  Then, one day, they were gone. She hadn't seen the two oldest Steel brothers for five years or more.

  From the rumors around town, Ollie went back to prison, and Josh had a warrant for his arrest.

  Silence filled the room. She lowered herself back to her pillow. She'd stopped caring about what happened at Steel Mechanics a long time ago.

  Nelson was spending twelve years in prison for intent to sell and drug distribution of over one kilogram of cocaine, found on the property next door. That was after being charged with murder—later, the charge never stuck. There wasn't enough evidence to prove he'd killed his father.

  Though everyone believed he'd shot Mr. Steel.

  That was ten years ago. Nelson still had two years to serve in prison. It seemed like a lifetime since she'd seen him.

  She'd defended his character on the witness stand. Both her mother and she were subpoenaed to retell their accounting of that night. She hated every moment.

  At sixteen years old, she hadn't understood the words the lawyers or judge used. Every time she tried to talk, the attorneys kept interrupting her.

  That day was the most frustrating of her life. One lawyer talked to her as if she was a baby. The other was mean and kept striking everything she tried to say. Worst of all, Nelson stared at her the entire time with his hands curled into fists under the table.

  A part of her had died that day sitting in front of everyone in court.

  For the next two years, she refused to do anything with her friends and only committed to going to school. Kids would try and talk about Nelson and what he was accused of doing as if they were privy to how Nelson lived. None of them knew him.

  She'd also taken her anger out on her mom. It'd taken Hazel yelling at her to realize she'd become a royal bitch to everyone in her life.

  Six years after Nelson went to prison, she'd quit her job at the store and went to work at Riverside Bar. She'd needed a fresh start, away from her family, and they needed a break from her attitude.

  It was at the bar that she started finding herself again. Not so much finding her old self, but discovering adulthood and what she wanted in her life.

  She let go of the anger she'd carried around after losing Nelson and realized it wasn't her mom's fault for not saying more while on the witness stand. Her mother had told the truth. Her truth.

  Just like Scarlett had tried to tell her truth, but nobody had wanted to listen. Looking back, she understood how the jury viewed her as a child. Her emotions had been all over the place. One newspaper article described her as having a crush on Nelson—though they never printed her name because she was underage.

  She stuffed the pillow under her head. Nelson wouldn't get out of prison for two more years, and right now, she needed to deal with her life.

  Jerry had given her a week to think about the job offer. The summer season was coming up next month, and the bar would get busier. She needed to figure out what she was going to do.

  The shower in her mom's room came on. Because she wasn't going to be able to fall asleep anytime soon, she got up, put on her robe, and walked downstairs and started the coffee maker. She'd sleep when the house was quiet, and her mind settled.

  Fifteen minutes later, her mom came downstairs and gasped at the sight of Scarlett in the kitchen. She carried a mug of coffee over to her mom.

  "You should be sleeping." Her mom sat at the table, pulling her robe tighter around her slim body. "Did you go out after work?"

  She leaned against the counter and shook her head. "Just couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd make some coffee and catch up with you. How's work?"

  "Same old drama. Jeannette shows up late. Jared only puts the fresh fruit out on Wednesday, after the senior citizens have their day on Tuesday. Half the time, the drawer of my till doesn't open right, and I have to call the manage
r to come use his key." Her mom raised her brows over her mug. "Nothing much changes at Kiggin's Grocery."

  Knowing the ins and outs personally having worked there, she nodded. "What about Hazel? Is she doing okay?"

  "As well as can be expected. A miscarriage is hard on a woman, and a marriage. She's holding in there."

  Six months ago, Hazel and her husband, Scott, were thrilled to announce they were having a baby. Like bad things happen, one day, her sister was riding high, and the next morning, her world exploded in pain. She could only imagine what it was like to lose a baby you never met but loved all the same.

  "I hope they can survive. Scott's good for her, and she's good for him," said Scarlett.

  "I'm sure they will. In time."

  Scarlett cradled the coffee mug in her hands. "I should take her out to lunch. Get her mind off everything."

  "She'd like that." Her mom looked at the clock on the wall. "I better go up and get dressed and put my face on."

  Her mom stood. She stepped over and hugged her mom. "I love you."

  "I love you, too." Her mom patted her cheek. "Now, go get some rest. You're too young to have worry lines."

  She laughed softly. At twenty-six years old, she felt like she'd already lived a lifetime.

  Chapter 12

  Nelson

  DUST AND COBWEBS COVERED every surface of the garage. Nelson swept his hand over the desk, leaving a path behind. Thanks to Missoula Sheriff's Department, the garage was left in disarray ten years ago.

  If it hadn't been for the club, knowing he was good on his word, he would've lost the place after his father was killed. He'd called them, visited with the Treasurer during one of the visitation hours, and came to an agreement. Tarkio MC would pay off the loan on the house, put it in his name, in exchange for using the building during his sentence. Upon release, he would get the deed and have somewhere to go.

  What Tarkio did while he was gone was none of his business.

  He owed the bikers. Whatever they asked of him, he'd do.

  Right now, he wanted to gain some sort of routine. He needed structure because he could feel himself slowly unraveling. In less than twelve hours of having his freedom, outside forces were already putting him on edge.

  He had the shakes. Bad.

  Taking the stairs left him winded. Even his old bedroom upstairs that was only ten feet by ten feet wide seemed too big and unprotected. There were too many windows on the second story of the building. He felt better down in the garage with every single door shut.

  He picked up a handful of tools and carried them over to his rollaway. The wrench went in the second drawer. The sockets in the top drawer. The wire cutters in the fifth drawer.

  Ten years hadn't erased what was beat into him.

  He shoved the rollaway. The release of energy gave him a boost.

  Each day would get better. He knew that. But for ten years of his life, he was under someone else's power. Locked up, ordered around, and constantly protecting himself.

  He knew what was expected of him. He knew what he had to do. He knew what tomorrow would bring.

  There hadn't been a minute of his life the last decade where he could let go. Even taking a shit or stepping into the shower, he was on guard.

  The very men who'd imprisoned him expected him to walk out at thirty-four-fucking-years old and adapt. How the hell was he supposed to start over?

  He'd lost everything.

  His dad was dead.

  Ollie was back in prison.

  Josh was extradited to some prison in Wyoming.

  The loyal customers he'd worked his ass off to gain since he was sixteen years old were long gone. If they were still around, they wouldn't come back to a man who they believed was a carrier for cocaine and could've possibly killed his own father.

  From what he'd seen on the back of Manny's motorcycle on his way home, even the neighborhood had changed. Different vehicles sat in the driveway of houses that'd changed color. Trees that were barely ten feet tall were now towering over the houses. The gas station had a different name. The bowling alley was now a RV dealership. The field over on Pullman road where he'd raced his bike as a kid was an air ducting manufacturing plant.

  He looked at his Harley Davidson in the first bay of the garage. Covered in dust, except for the seat because he'd started the engine in the early morning hours, hoping the calmness that always came over him when he rode would show up.

  It hadn't.

  Worst of all, he wanted to walk outside and look out at the back fence and see if Scarlett was standing in the window of her bedroom. But he couldn't make himself go through the door.

  It'd been ten years since he'd seen her passionately fight for his freedom, shouting his innocence to everyone in the courtroom. He'd never had anyone believe in him, and the way the court system treated her was the worst of his punishment because there was nothing he could do to stop them.

  He walked over and sat at the desk, kicked back, and put his boots on the edge. Arriving home last night, he'd purposely kept himself from looking over the fence. Scarlett was long gone, probably married. She might even have a kid or two.

  She owed him nothing and deserved to find her happiness. Hell, he hoped she was living a beautiful life and had achieved all her goals.

  That didn't mean he wanted to watch her living her dream.

  A rumble from the street grew louder. He put his boots on the concrete floor. The only people who would seek him out were members of Tarkio.

  He unlocked the walk-in door. From the sound of the noise, it was more than one biker. Enemy or friend, he couldn't tell.

  Staying inside, he had nothing better to do than wait and see who came for him.

  A bang came before the door opened, and Curley walked in with a bag. Nelson lifted his chin. It'd been a long time since he'd seen his friend.

  Curley approached him and held out his hand. "Good to see your ugly ass."

  "Same." He shook. "What's up?"

  The years had been kind to Curley. Not much had changed. He still shaved his head and sported a goatee. A new scar on his cheek took the attention away from the added wrinkles.

  Curley held out a sack. "Prez wanted me to bring you a welcome home package."

  He took the bag and set it on the desk. He'd look at what was inside later when he was alone.

  "Are you planning on opening up for business?" Curley looked around the garage. "Besides the dealerships and a couple of those do-a-lube places, there's only one independent garage, and it's on the east end of town."

  "I'm going to try." He scoffed. "Not much else I can do with a record attached to my name."

  "I hear you." Curley slapped him on the arm. "I need to get out of here. I'll see you later, huh? You can swing by Riverside Bar soon, and I'll buy you a beer."

  "I don't know where that is," he said.

  "Second-mile marker on the Clark Fork." Curley's gaze softened. "Think about it."

  "Will do." Nelson walked with him to the door and stayed inside when Curley walked out.

  Curley and the rest of the bikers would stand beside him. But he knew what waited outside for him. The good citizens of Missoula would crucify him.

  Relocking the walk-in door, he started picking up the mess the police had left ten years ago. Maybe tomorrow, he'd open the garage and turn the air hose on the dust and blow everything off.

  The garage heated up nicely as the cooler weather hadn't shown up yet. He used the front of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. It was going to take more than a couple days to whip the place into shape.

  There were dismantled impact tools littering the floor of the garage. Paint spilled and dried during the investigators' search. He flexed his fingers. It felt damn good to have the tools in his hand. The first thing he wanted to do after he finished the grunt work was tune-up his Harley. Maybe hit the interstate and just ride away from everyone and everything.

  He scoffed. What a fucking joke.

  Being by himself,
after spending a ten-year sentence locked up with someone beside him twenty-four/seven, was messing with his head.

  He was scared. For the first time in his life, he couldn't trust himself alone.

  Walking over to the desk, he sat down and looked inside the bag Curley had brought him. He pulled out a bundle of cash. Flipping through the stack of one-hundred-dollar bills, there had to be around five thousand dollars.

  He whistled softly. That would pay the utilities for a year, get the garage running, and put food in the fridge until he could get his feet under him.

  Setting the money aside, he dumped out the rest of the contents Curley had brought over. A little of the tension he carried around eased at the sight of a few sandwiches, homemade cookies, a carton of cigarettes, and a half dozen apples and some oranges.

  Picking up an apple, he bit into the skin. His eyes closed as the sweet juice filled his mouth. He took another bite. And, another.

  He even ate the core, spitting the seeds out on the floor.

  His stomach gurgled. He ran his hand over his face and started shaking. He was a grown-ass man and had spent ten hard years in prison, and a fucking apple had reduced him to tears.

  Chapter 13

  Scarlett

  TROY WAVED CASH IN her direction at the dartboard. She walked around the tables and approached him.

  "Tell me, I did not see you wave money at me." She rolled her eyes. "Haven't you learned by now, that's not how you get a woman's attention."

  "My bad." Troy's gaze lowered to her chest. "I keep hoping one of these days you'll notice me in the crowd."

  She leaned against his side and soft enough only he could hear her, said, "If half that is a tip, I'm paying attention."

  Troy threw his arm around her shoulders. "Of course, the change is yours, honey."

  She grinned. "What do you want?"

  "Bud." He chuckled, his cheeks pinkening.

  Could Troy get any cuter? Ever since his twenty-first birthday last year, he'd become a regular. A regular charmer. Way too young for her, though she liked to give him back all the teasing he threw out, he was popular with the servers because he was always in a good mood.