by Jamie Magee
She also knew he was an asshole and somehow thought that Reveca had peed in his cheerios, at least that’s how he looked at her.
O’Brian sat down opposite of her. “Nothing to drink? Eat?”
Reveca only stared.
“Can’t go a day without food or water under our care. Wouldn’t look good.”
Reveca let a slow, menacing grin come to her. She wasn’t touching or consuming anything here because it all belonged to them. She wasn’t going to leave her mark behind for them to plant on some evidence. No, if they wanted her prints or DNA they were going to have to work for it. “As if keeping someone in a box for a day’s time looks awesome.”
“It’s the damnedest thing,” he said as he opened his folder and started to lay out images. “First some temp gives your lawyer the wrong location, then the tech who had possession of the evidence came down with a nasty bug. We had to wait for his assistant to review his work. Then our witness had to document her testimony which took a while because she was pretty shaken. And now, well now, your lawyer would rather trample across a golf course than sit here with you.”
If her lawyer was on a golf course, he was chasing a Judge; Reveca knew that but gave O’Brian a playful pout. She also knew, because she heard the arguments through the walls of the station, that the witness was only having issues with her statement because she was high, because she changed her story over and over, enough so that her testimony could never be counted on by itself. Even with other, harder evidence it would be weak.
“I figured we can look at a few images while we wait.”
“You’re speaking to me without a lawyer?”
“I can speak to you all I want. I can’t, however, question you right this instant.” He shrugged. “Figured you should know that this is only the beginning.”
He let that threat linger as he glared, surely wanting Reveca to think he knew more than he did.
“Newberry, a professor, died too young. Not as young as Mandy Seaborne, a dropout—had plenty of time to turn her life around,” he said as he pushed an image of girl slumped against an old grave in front of Reveca. “Or Andrea Wise. At twenty-two, she had been down a hard road, but she was set to go into rehab in a week’s time, had a job lined up afterwards and everything.” He looked up at Reveca. “Tragic isn’t it? This is her best friend who died next.”
Reveca tilted her head, keeping her stare on him.
“Are these images bothering you?” O’Brian asked as he slid them closer to her.
The girls looked like they were asleep to Reveca. She had seen far more gruesome deaths.
“Not at all.”
“You like to admire your work?”
Reveca didn’t say a word.
“What did they do? Not pay for their dose? Or were they dealing, taking too many samples home. Or did they just fuck your boyfriend? I heard you’re a jealous bitch.”
Silence.
Right then O’Brian slammed his hands on the table as he stood and loomed in Reveca’s space. “Feel good to kill these kids? Was it just business? Did they even know why they died?”
Reveca smiled, not be arrogant, or even sinister, but because she heard the men on the other side of the glass began to cuss and yell. Apparently O’Brian wasn’t supposed to be in there and he surely wasn’t supposed to be in her face.
The door opened then. A man who was much younger than O’Brian called him out, using enough force and confidence that it was clear he was the one in charge.
As O’Brian left, Mathis Tubbs made his way in. The guy in charge gave him one hard look then left the door open as he exited.
“Ah, the good cop. You’re good at this,” Reveca said with an easy smile.
She hadn’t seen him the entire time she’d been there, but she’d heard him, heard him arguing on the other side of the glass. Saying something like, “If I’m agreeing with Blackwater then you sure as fuck jumped the gun with this. She was with me, then him. Check your facts before you decide to send everyone’s case up in fucking flames.”
“Ah, she speaks,” Mathis said as he sat down, leaned back in his chair, and smiled at Reveca. “I told them you know how, that you were a skilled conversationalist. That I enjoyed chatting with you.”
He didn’t use those exact words, but Reveca gave him a smile anyway.
“That’s right. I spent the afternoon gardening as you stalked from a distance then finally decided to approach. Then I invited Blackwater in for a drink when I found him lurking at my front gate. There is a lesson there, I suppose. When you keep bad company you end up in a place like this.”
Mathis ginned clearly amused by Reveca in general. “Maybe next time you should invite the lawman in that can hold his liquor. That way he’d be awake when he was called and told of a break in his case, and that you were being brought in for questioning.”
“Now, Mathis, if you wanted to come by for a drink all you had to do was ask,” Reveca said sweetly. “I have always heard the baddest boys were the preacher’s sons.”
“I’m a preacher’s grandson, a cop’s son,” Mathis said with a lifted brow.
“I’d stick to the preacher man story if I were you,” Reveca replied and winked. “They’re used to the likes of Blackwater when they think of lawmen.”
“I can imagine,” Mathis said then, pursing his lips. “Blackwater has had the Sons case for what now…close to twenty years?”
“The case? I’m not following,” Reveca said with a mischievous glint in her stare.
“Lawman terms, I suppose. There was an investigation launched long ago about an outlaw biker gang. I guess that phrasing is off. You see the biker gang, the Pentacle Sons, were known as the Dark Guardians around the city. Downright put Robin Hood to shame. Every charity that had any chance of thriving partnered with them. By night though, that is where the outlaw surfaced, when those who’d wronged those the Dark Guardians were helping met their demise…in one way or another.”
“That’s right, I have heard this. It’s Blackwater’s fantasy. He likes to assume that my friends have some signature death mark and what have you. Interesting story, but shoddy fiction at best.”
Mathis shook his head trying to hide a boyish grin. “Blackwater getting that case was huge for him and my dad. I can still remember the fuss. As the years went on not many arrests were made, and if there were, most times they weren’t a Son, just an associate. And if a Son happened to be faced with charges…sadly, in some way they perished. My grandfather, he presided over those services, told us every man deserved a man of God at his graveside.” Mathis winked. “Have to agree there.”
When Reveca didn’t say a word, he went on. “The case was always open, always active, always branched out into enough directions to make Blackwater earn his paycheck.”
“Good for him.”
Mathis leaned forward, kept his voice low. “Your buddy, O’Brian, he had a big case, too. The Devil’s Den. He was put in charge of it right about the time Blackwater got the Sons case. Those two, Blackwater and O’Brian, they’re extremely competitive, started at the same time and are both set to retire soon.”
Mathis laughed. “I thought O’Brian was going to throw some mad party to celebrate when he heard that Blackwater’s undercover flipped on him, went straight crazy and confessed to a ridiculous murder.”
He waited for a response or a reaction from Reveca but one never came.
“O’Brian was sure that Blackwater was going to end his career with his head hung low, that he was going to go out with a bang—like eating a bullet from his service weapon kind of bang. O’Brian thought that finally, once and for all—he’d take down the Devil’s Den. You see, O’Brian was pissed because he felt the work he had done, the arrests he had made were not respected on the streets or even here—the Pentacle Sons were given credit for causing the Devil’s Den to move out of impoverished neighborhoods. They were given credit when those neighborhoods started to rebuild, broke free from the titles and reputations laid over them
. He even told Blackwater if he did his job and put the Sons away, then credit due would land where it was meant to.”
“Men and their pride,” Reveca said coolly.
“Right,” Mathis said with grin. “Then, his case, his big bust, the Devil’s Den, gets blown in one night when four of the heavy hitters he was zoning in on find themselves with a bullet between the eyes. The witnesses? They don’t remember a damn thing, not even the two girls that were found leaving the scene. They swear some dark guardians saved them. There had to be some truth to that. They were reported missing by their families months before, showed signs of abuse. Personally, I see it as a blessing that they can’t remember anything, O’Brian, not so much. And he’s having an awful hard time explaining how he and his men sat outside a building and didn’t hear or see anything.”
Mathis tilted his head to the side. “One shot between the eyes, black guardians…the Pentacle Sons. A correlation that once again proved to be untouchable.”
Reveca nearly laughed. “That is one sexy story, but how in the hell does that have anything to do with me? Besides the fact that my friends are the ones you lawmen like to dream up fantasies about. Last night each of them had a beer in one hand, a woman in the other. They were laughing, enjoying life…yet in your minds, they what? Appeared out of nowhere and took out some other bad guys? And because they did, you decided to bring in the president’s Ol’ Lady?”
“Does sound ridiculous, doesn’t it?” Mathis agreed. “That’s why I stick to the murder cases, more mainstream. A crime, a criminal, nothing fancy.”
Reveca looked down as a shudder of grief went through her as she thought of GranDee. She heard Mathis say, “It’s far more tragic, however.”
Reveca raised her eyes to meet his once more. He paused before he went on. “O’Brian was furious with life itself, thought that if Blackwater had done his job correctly then his case would still be intact. He’d break his case and walk away with glory.
“Reveca, he acted ignorantly. There was a murder last night. You’ve seen the images, and there was a witness, but instead of investigating that lead he took it upon himself to bring you in.”
“Is this an apology?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He leaned closer to her. “Reveca, I looked at the evidence. I disproved it.”
Reveca glanced to the glass mirror, then the hall behind the door which was still open, wondering what game they were all playing now. But no one was close. There was no hum of a recorder near her. Odd.
“The description was of you. The witness did name you, but there were tracks on the ground. None of them matched yours.”
“My tracks. Which I’m sure you pulled from GranDee’s garden.”
He shrugged. “Call me curious. That curiosity quelled the evidence against you now.” He hesitated as he chose his next words. “It was the same boot though, same style rather.”
“Excuse me?”
“The boots on your feet now, the ones I saw you wearing, the killer of these girls wore the same.”
“So they have good fashion sense.”
“That or they know your fashion sense. Be careful, Reveca, I don’t think this fell close to you by accident.”
“And you’re telling me this out of the kindness of your heart?”
“I’m telling you this because I know you lost a mother before you should have had to, then another woman you saw in much the same light. I want to bring both killers to justice. You can help me with that.”
“You want my help.” A statement, not a question
Mathis stared for a moment. “You need to know that if you did see something that night—if you heard something, I can protect you. I doubt you’d need my protection with those close friends of yours, but it’s there. We’re not all the same.”
Reveca let out a slow breath. Finally seeing Jonny T emerge in his son. He had said much the same when he asked her to name Blackwater and other officers in the case he was building against them years ago.
“Do you think history repeats itself?” Reveca asked him.
His dark eyes never left hers, but he remained silent.
“Do you think your father said something similar to Maren Beauregard?”
Mathis narrowed his stare on Reveca, surely wondering why she referred to her mother in a formal manner. “If it does, then that must mean it wants to correct itself, right the wrongs of the generation which bore us.”
“Very poetic.”
“The bike, the gun. Reveca, anything you have of Holden’s that will help my case, allow you closure, I would appreciate.”
“So let me get this straight. You, in all your good cop ways, told your buddies I was with you all afternoon, which I was, then like the hero you are you took my boot print from the mud around the garden and used it to prove that I was exactly where another lawman, Blackwater, along with three hundred other people, stated I was. And because you did that, I should break into tears and tell you that Holden was such a bad guy and that I’m afraid of him and all his lawmen buddies? That I saw him commit murder in cold blood—even better, that I know exactly where the gun and his bike are? I’m suppose to tell you to save me, that surely the universe fated us to be side by side at this juncture to bring down the corrupt department that put our parents in an early grave…”
“That would make my day. Not going to happen, is it?”
Reveca moved her head side to side. “I’m not Holden’s keeper. You all are the ones that were in charge of that loon. Do you not track your undercover lawmen?”
Mathis smiled weakly. “You’re free to go, Reveca.”
Reveca lifted a brow. Then stood. She stared down at him. “You’re a good man. I sense that.”
Mathis looked up at her and nodded slightly.
“As far as I know, Holden didn’t know GranDee. I never let assholes near those that are precious to me, at least not the ones that can’t defend themselves. You suspect him—how did he know who she was? He couldn’t have guessed his way there. He was sent. Had to be. I’d figure out who did so. Motive. I’ve yet to hear one that made sense to me.”
“In most cases that would be money, drugs, or love.”
“No drugs, no money. A lot of love, but like I said she didn’t know him. If Holden went there for any of those reasons he was misinformed.”
Mathis nodded. He knew something but he wasn’t going to say it. In all honesty Reveca was surprised he’d said as much as he had.
“I’m sure I’ll see it on the news, but exactly how was it stated that I killed these girls, broke every bone, and never bruised the skin?”
Mathis laughed. “That’s where your witch rep is coming into play, but those that are less superstitious are stating a forced overdose, the drug Black. A tiny needle mark was found just behind the neck. The witness, the first time around, said she saw you inject it.”
“First time around?”
Mathis shook off the question; silently stating he could not comment on that point.
“The science guys are still trying to understand that drug. It dissolves too fast for them to clearly know its components or effects. Their theory now is that it has a component that weakens the bones, and when it does they break, can puncture a lung, heart, what have you.”
“You are very forthcoming.”
Mathis laughed. “That was on the news this morning, not the witch part, the drug part. Trying to deter the public.” Mathis stood. “I don’t know about you, but I haven’t come across many junkies that watch the news.”
Reveca gave him a genuine laugh. “Can you take me home?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he said, nodding for her to walk along with him.
On her way out Reveca saw O’Brian in an office, yelling at the man who pulled him from Reveca’s room. O’Brian stopped his rant to glare at Reveca as she passed. Blackwater was looking like death warmed over as he stood by the doors that would let Reveca out.
Reveca barely acknowledged him for a hos
t of reasons; the primary one, she still hated him. The blackmail she had dangling over his head did nothing to resolve that. She’d hate that man until she saw him pass her Edge. There was no doubt she secretly hoped when he did make it there that the Unclaimed would seize him.
When Mathis opened the front doors to the station, a beaming smile spread across her face.
They were all there, and at the sight of her, every bike, except for one, roared to life, hundreds of them lining both sides of the street. Talon was front and center. He dismounted his bike and took two broad steps to her, picked her up and spun her around as if it had been years since he’d seen her.
All around them cheers and whistles were heard as he slowly lowered her, cupped her face, then let his lips frame hers.
The fight they were set to have just before she was taken away was pushed aside just then. Along with the guilt that Reveca may or may not have for crossing a sacred line with King.
All those that Reveca and Talon led, that they needed behind them for this hell that was raining down on them, were watching. They needed to see a solid unit. The lawmen watching from the station behind her did, too. The Pentacle Sons were untouchable and would remain that way.
And frankly, Reveca didn’t feel like fighting right then. She had been on constant defense for too long. She was ready to feel safe, and that is exactly how she felt when she sat astride Talon’s bike and wrapped her arms around him, as they led the group that was their family home once again.
Chapter Two
The ride home was nice and long, on purpose. That many bikes made a statement, drew a crowd. The Sons needed all the approval they could get from the ultimate judge—the public eye. At every stop the riders made it a point to wave and grin, at the very least nod to the children that were staring wide-eyed with beaming smiles.
It was odd, but that gesture, it always went further than one would think, not for the Sons, but for the ones that received it. They felt protected, like if they were ever in a tight spot they knew they had friends in the right places, even if the riders never said a word. They represented freedom, respect, and fierceness, something everyone yearned to have.