True North

by Beth D. Carter

  “You are safe. If I’m not here then I’ll call Nimrod to keep you company,” he assured her. “I don’t trust that Daniel Two Feathers as far as I can throw him.”

  “You spoke to Daniel?” she gasped, her eyes going wide.

  “Giv and I went to question him about Michael Hiller.”

  She began to shake her head no. “Oh, no, I have to go. He’ll find me. He’ll hurt me—”

  “No, Allis,” North interrupted, grabbing her hands. “I made sure he knew you were being protected.”

  “You don’t understand. I hurt him. I cut him. He won’t let something like that rest.”

  “He told us about the scar.”

  She blinked. “Did he tell you why?”

  North hesitated. “He, uh, told us some stuff, but Giv and I didn’t believe any of it.”

  “Like what?”

  “He implied you were crazy.”

  “He’s lying! He wouldn’t take no for an answer and when I publicly rejected him, he killed my cat. That was the last straw. I went to confront him, but he got aggressive with me. He hit me. Pushed me. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I was just defending myself!”

  “Shh,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms. “I believe you. You hadn’t told me a thing and I still would’ve believed in you.”

  “But how do I fight those lies?” she asked, her face buried in his chest. “No one will believe me.”

  “You know how I got my name?”

  “What? North isn’t your real name?”

  “No. It’s Scott,” he admitted. “I hate that name because my father would always call me Scotty. He’d kick the shit out of me and when I’d go hide, he’d call out ‘Where are you, Scotty boy?’, like we were playing a fucking game. When I started hanging around with the Wolves, I asked Old Patch almost the same question. How can I fight against him when he’s my father? And you know what Patch told me?”

  “What?” she whispered, captivated.

  “There is a path every man has to follow. A compass to our destiny—true north. So I decided that was going to be my new name as a reminder to survive. The Wolves became my northern star, and I stayed on that course. You’ve got to find your true north, Allis.”

  She looked up into his blue eyes and had the fanciful notion that he and Givon been her guiding stars all along, bringing her toward Destiny—her destiny. It wasn’t the psycho stalker and kidnapper, it wasn’t the fear and her mad dash into the forest. Fate had stepped in and given her a reason to find them, and she was determined not to screw it up.

  North and Givon. There was no way she could, or would, choose between them, because in her mind, they both were her magnetic poles.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next two days fell into a routine. Dinners took place around the table, even if it happened to be takeout two days in a row. She discovered North couldn’t even boil water and Givon relied heavily on frozen dinners. For breakfast, Allis scrambled eggs and made toast while Givon made coffee. They’d sit and talk about what their days held then Givon would kiss her goodbye as he left for work. North would settle her on the porch with a book while he worked on the barn. He was doing a great job and it was starting to look like a barn again. Today he was reinforcing the structure, ripping out old, rotting pieces of wood and replacing it with newer boards. North gazing had become her favorite pastime.

  He looked up and out toward the road a second before she heard the sound of a motorcycle. She followed his gaze and a moment later, a large man on a Harley pulled onto the gravel driveway. He waved to North as he pulled to a stop and planted his feet on the ground before shutting off the engine. North hurried toward him and shook the man’s hand.

  “What brings you by, Draven?” North asked.

  “Need to talk,” the other man said, taking off his helmet. His long brown hair touched his shoulder and his deep brown eyes held a smile as he looked at her. “I’m John Draven. His VP.”

  “Allis,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” he answered.

  The two men walked away together and she knew it must be club business. She didn’t know much about what it meant to be in a motorcycle club and she pictured it like an Elks Lodge where they had secret handshakes and a Grand Poobah. Of course, that would make North the Grand Poobah. She giggled, picturing him wearing some sort of ceremonial hat that had horns and fur.

  * * * *

  “You haven’t been by in two days,” Draven told him. The bite in his words made North frown.

  “You got a problem?” North asked him.

  Draven blew out a breath between clenched teeth. “You went from being there all the time to never showing up. Men are coming to me for decisions.”

  “You’re my VP,” North reminded him. “I trust your decisions.”

  “It shouldn’t be me, North. That’s what I’m trying to say. You’re the leader of the Wolves, not me.”

  North ran a dirty hand through his sweaty hair. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just got caught up with being here.”

  Draven looked around, his gaze falling on Allis. “Well, I can’t blame you for that. This is a pretty nice spread and your Allis is smokin’ hot.”

  “Hey, now,” North warned.

  Draven smiled. “Is she going to be your old lady?”

  “I don’t know,” North answered. “She’s still recovering from her bullet wound, so that discussion hasn’t really evolved.”

  “They find the fucker who shot her?”

  “The fucker was found with a bullet in his head.”

  “What?” Draven asked incredulously. “You?”

  “Nope.”

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Giv and I went to talk to her stalker cop but he alibied out, of course.”

  “Cops always do,” Draven said with a snort.

  North knew his VP had no love for the badge. “Not all cops are bad,” he reminded Draven.

  “So you keep saying, and I know Givon is a decent man, but it was a cop who killed Tom.”

  “I know,” North said, placing a comforting hand on Draven’s shoulder.

  “Hey, now. Don’t go getting all teary eyed on me.”

  “Fuck you,” North said good-naturedly and shoved Draven back.

  “That’s better,” Draven replied with a grin. “Before I go, I wanted you to know that the first part of Bryman’s money has been delivered to the shop and it’s in the process of being laundered as we speak.”

  “Guess that means I need a new tattoo?”

  “We all need new tattoos,” Draven said dryly. “I have the first mule run scheduled in a few days.”

  “Who is going and where?”

  “Me. I’m running it down to Vegas.”

  “Just you?”

  “A good faith run.”

  “Fuck that. I want someone with you.”

  “I’ll take Skids.”

  “Okay. But tell him to calm the fuck down with his happy trigger finger. Got it?”

  Draven nodded.

  “And I’ll be in tomorrow,” North added.

  “Okay,” Draven said, obviously relieved at the news.

  “You want some coffee before you leave?”

  “Nah. I’ll let you get back to playing house.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Aye-aye, Captain,” Draven taunted and saluted him before sauntering off to his bike. He started it up and roared away as North walked back to where Allis sat on the porch.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “Just peachy. I have to go to the clubhouse tomorrow. Seems the boys are missing me.”

  “I guess so if you used to live there. Is it like…your job?”

  “Technically, I’m part owner of a tattoo parlor so that’s what I list on my tax return, which reminds me that I have to go into the parlor soon. Time for another tat.”

  “Can I go with you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Maybe I’ll ge
t one.”

  He tried to imagine her with a tattoo. He would have to think of a great one and where it should go on that delectable body of hers.

  “Let’s wait until your stitches come out, but definitely I’ll take you,” he told her with a smile.

  * * * *

  Givon sat at his desk and shot another impatient look at the clock. Only two minutes had passed since the last time he’d checked it. For some reason, today seemed to be dragging by like monkey balls.

  The phone on his desk rang, startling him. He quickly picked up.

  “Sheriff Halloran.”

  “Hello, Sheriff,” a female said. “This is Molly at the crime lab in Riverton. I’m calling because ballistics came back on that bullet you brought us. It matches a three-year-old cold case.”

  “What cold case?”

  “I’m emailing you the report now, as well as our ballistics test, but basically a woman was found shot just outside a town called Durango. She’d been listed as a missing person by her boss and her body was found three days later with a bullet in her back.”

  Givon’s heart sped up. “Is the lead investigator listed on the report?”

  “It is.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the quick turn around.”

  “I hope this helps, Sheriff.”

  When he hung up with Molly from the Crime Lab, he opened his email and downloaded the file. He read it from top to bottom twice, making sure he hadn’t missed a thing. So Allis hadn’t been Michael Hiller’s first victim. How many other women had the man abducted?

  And if Hiller’s hunting ground was Durango, the question came back to why had he brought Allis to Destiny?

  Givon spent the rest of the day on the phone trying to dig up any information about Michael Hiller, his connection to Destiny and how many other women had gone missing in and around Durango. The lead detective from the cold case, Banks Harmon, invited him to come by the next day to investigate Michael Hiller’s house.

  “Hey, Boss,” Jack said as he knocked on Givon’s open door. “Got a second?”

  “Sure,” he said. Ever since Jack’s impassioned little speech back at the hospital, Givon had decided to ease up and give him the benefit of the doubt. “What’s up?”

  Jack held up the morgue photo of Michael Hiller. “Is this the man that dressed up as a doctor to hurt Allison Evening?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s also the chicken man. You know, the story you didn’t believe? This was him.”

  The honesty and fire shining in Jack’s eyes had shame pumping through Givon. He stood up. “I’m sorry, Jack. I was wrong.”

  Jack shrugged. “I suppose if I’d been in your shoes, I would’ve thought it was me or Sandy as well. And I guess I’m the more logical since I’m new.”

  “I won’t doubt you again,” Givon said and held out his hand. After a moment, Jack shook it.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, North drove into the clubhouse’s lot and parked. Part of him wished he’d brought Allis, but a bigger part wanted to keep her all to himself, separate from the club life. Not that he was ashamed, but because he felt like Allis was a starting-over point in his life. He’d called Nimrod to watch over her.

  The clubhouse was located behind a wall that held a locking gate, which usually stayed open during the day. On the property was a full garage for men to tweak their bikes and he waved at several Wolves who were covered in grease.

  The interior of the house was simplistic and comfortable, and it had been his home for over twenty years. As soon as he walked in, however, everyone yelled “Surprise!” and he jumped a little.

  “Happy birthday!”

  All the members came forward to shake his hand and slap his back. Balloons bounced around, their strings curling as they danced through the air. A cake sat on the bar counter with candles in the numbers of four and zero lit up. Someone must have sprayed an air freshener because the heavy cigarette smell wasn’t so bad.

  North glanced over and saw Draven’s smirk and pointed at him. Draven pointed back but he didn’t come forward. He sat at the bar next to Skids. Tina came forward. She hugged him and he squeezed the older woman tightly. Nick was out of ICU and recovering nicely, easing one of the many concerns on his mind.

  As much as he enjoyed the day hanging out with his brothers eating cake, the fact that Givon and Allis weren’t there made him feel a little sad. A birthday was a celebration for family, and though he had one of them surrounding him right now, his other family wasn’t one he could ever bring to the clubhouse. It pained him a little knowing that they had to remain separate. He might talk about church business every once in a while to Givon, but he could never tell his friend about the new activities the club was into.

  If he had to live with secrets and lies to have the best of both worlds, so be it. He wouldn’t give up either family.

  “Good to see you at last,” Pistol Pete said as he came up, holding out his hand.

  North shook it firmly.

  “Heard you went to live with the sheriff.”

  North shrugged. “He’s a good friend.”

  Pete nodded, as if he knew. “Old Patch told me some of what you went through as a kid. I’m happy that you finally found a home, but with a cop?”

  North sighed. This again? “He’s a friend of the club.”

  “Really? You think he’ll defend this club when push comes to shove?”

  “Yeah. I think he would.”

  Pete snorted. “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “When it’s the law on one side and us on the other, will you be there for us?”

  “Of course,” North said coldly. “This club is my world.”

  Pete nodded, gave him a crooked grin and held up a pack of cigarettes. “Smoke?”

  Shit. If he declined, it would be suspicious, following the conversation he’d just had. But he’d gone days without a smoke. With reluctance, he took one and Pete held up a lighter. North drew the smoke in his lungs and the nicotine buzz hit him almost immediately. It was heaven and hell all rolled into one drag.

  Pete smirked at him and strolled away. North took one more drag then crushed it out in a nearby ashtray. Shit, he was going to have to make sure to brush his teeth before Givon came home.

  Quitting was almost impossible when his crew was around. Peer pressure was a bitch.

  * * * *

  Detective Banks Harmon preceded him through the opened door of Michael Hiller’s house, which was officially roped off with crime scene tape. Givon stepped through, wearing booties on his feet and latex gloves on his hands, careful not to touch anything as the crime scene unit moved through, documenting items.

  Technically, Michael Hiller was only a person of interest in the cold case homicide of an unknown female victim whose body had been discovered buried in a shallow grave. Animals had dug her up. She’d been wearing only her underwear with a bullet lodged in her back. The similarities between this case and Allis’ were too similar, but since they didn’t have his gun and without evidence that Hiller had been the one to pull the trigger and not someone else, speculation was all they had to go on. Of course, Givon knew in his gut that this man was the killer, and so did Detective Harmon, but with Michael Hiller now the victim of a homicide, well, doubts might always linger.

  “You didn’t find the gun at the crime scene?” Detective Harmon asked, as they moved through the small house.

  Whatever he was, Hiller hadn’t been a clean man. Everything held a layer of dust and the stench of unwashed dishes and rotting food permeated the air.

  “No,” Givon replied, stopping by an end table pulled near a sagging recliner. On it lay a stack of papers. CSU had already photographed the house, so he didn’t hesitate in picking up a notebook. “He wasn’t killed with it. Different caliber bullet.”

  “Hiller kept to himself,” Detective Harmon said as he walked around the room. “Didn’t have a job but his bank account reflected some type of work.
Probably something under the table.”

  “Or illegal,” Givon pointed out. “Look at this. Looks like a type of code. Sixteen lines with initials and the last one is AS. Allis was using the last name of Smith when she was working here.”

  “I’d have to double check, but those look like the initials of the missing women. But what is the next set of numbers? Reminds me of measurements.”

  “I think they are. The sick fucker was recording all the women’s attributes.”

  “So he was stalking them,” Detective Harmon concluded.

  Givon flipped the next page and gave a grunt of surprise.

  “What?”

  “I know this address,” Givon replied grimly. “It’s an abandoned mill near Destiny.”

  “It could be the reason why he was in your town.”

  “Meeting someone gives a different implication,” Givon replied. “Allis was on the run from a stalker. Hiller might’ve been paid to find her.”

  “That wouldn’t account for the other women,” Detective Harmon said, hesitating. “Hold on. Let me go get my file.”

  He walked away and Givon went back to studying the book. There were more references about his victims, sometimes even calling them by name. It disturbed him to see Allis’s name written out and observations made about her daily activities. There was no doubt Hiller had been methodically observing her, just waiting for a chance to strike.

  “Here,” Detective Harmon said, coming back. He held a thick file in his hands and held out a piece of paper. “Hiller’s finances show a steady deposit, each payment coinciding with the disappearance of a woman.”

  “And starting four years ago, as soon as he got out of prison,” Givon replied. “He was being paid for them. Any family members connected to these women?”

  Harmon shook his head. “No one that came forth.”

  “So, abducting women who wouldn’t be missed, ones who didn’t have families or friends to shine a light on their abrupt vanishing.”