by Cat Porter
We whipped by the Nebraska...the good life sign as we sped over the blacktop through the open stretch of arid prairie.
Her hands slid down the steering wheel. “Whatever I can find, basically. You never know. From old toys to gas station signs to old bicycles.”
“Well, I’m on strict orders to look for a specific list of vintage Harley and Indian bike parts.”
“This guy is a notorious hermit. I’ve heard about him from two sources, but trying to pin him down on the phone from Wisconsin has been challenging, especially when he doesn’t answer his phone most of the time. Now that I’m here, I had to come see him myself. I’m glad you came. This is good.”
I laughed. “Will he let us in, you think?”
She grinned. “Oh, he’ll let us in.”
“As long as he doesn’t aim a shotgun at us, we’ll be fine. I left my gun at home just so you know.”
“Now she tells me,” quipped Tania.
“How is business anyway?”
“Pretty good actually.”
“You have an eye for this sort of thing, don’t you?”
She glanced at me, grinning, and then went back to the road. “Yes, I do.”
“I’m glad you’re doing something you love. That’s getting more and more difficult to do these days.”
“I love it. I love the search and I love connecting a client with something unique or something they’ve been looking for a long time. I also love running my own show.”
“I’ll bet. You remember Wreck, Miller’s brother? He ran the shop at the club.”
“Yes, of course. He had all that eagle memorabilia.”
“A huge collection, and a lot of other automotive-related material. I used to try to organize it for him, but it was pretty overwhelming. His house, where we’re living now, used to be jammed with stuff. A lot of it, Miller got rid of. But a lot is in storage. Would you be interested in taking a look?”
She glanced at me, eyes blazing. “Hell, yes.”
“I need to ask Miller, see if he wants to part with any of it. But it’s just been stored away for a long, long time. Wreck traveled around a lot. If he saw something he really liked, he bought it. You never know what you might find.”
“I want in, Grace. Talk to the hubs and let me know.”
“Will do.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking, with Mom in rehab for a while and not being able to live on her own anymore, that I should move back. Penny’s got her kids, and Drew is AWOL, so she’s got me.”
“Back to Meager? Really?”
“Yeah. I have inventory I could bring over here and open my own shop in town. Rents are still reasonable, and some interesting new stores have opened recently. I’d like to get in on this Meager renaissance. I like the new hipster spirit in our little town.”
“Tania, that would be amazing!”
“I poked around in this lingerie store on Clay Street the other day.
“Lenore’s Lace?”
“Yes. Whoa! What didn’t she have?”
“Lenore is a good friend. She has a gorgeous shop.”
“A funky lingerie store in Meager. Never in a million years…”
“I still remember when all we had was the feed store and Dillon’s, the five-and-dime.”
“Dillon’s!”
“Erica’s coffee house is beautiful, don’t you think?”
“Yes! And she has really good coffee.”
“Amen.” I sucked down the last of my second latte from Erica’s that we had bought after we left the rehab earlier. “I just checked out this new pottery shop, too. She had some nice pieces.”
“Oh, yeah? Such a relief to see Pepper’s is still there.”
“Oh God, Pepper’s! Best boot shop ever. Tania, he has two shelves now devoted to women’s fashion boots. I think I actually saw pink and turquoise leather when I was last there.”
“No way!” We both squealed and erupted into snorty laughter.
“Tania?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s going on with your husband? You haven’t talked about this divorce at all.”
“There’s not much to talk about, babe. Just…no. I want out.” Her jaw clamped down, and her brows slid together as she went back to concentrating on the road.
Another time, I would have pushed it further. But now, I, too, only wanted to enjoy the easy feeling of simply hanging out with my old friend.
Forty-five minutes later, I was comparing the map of Elk, a tiny hamlet just past Chadron, with Tania’s scribbles in her notebook, trying to find where this Herman Grant’s property began or ended and might or might not be. I was now ready to throw the map and the notebook out the car window. We tried asking for directions at a gas station, but we were met with blank stares and mumbling. Tania returned to the dirt road we had explored on the third go-around about town.
“I’m going to take a left here. It says right, but we went right last time and got stuck up that hill that led nowhere.”
“Go for it,” I replied, my head lolling back against the headrest.
Ten minutes later, a long gate made of splintered gray wood appeared in the distance.
“Grace, look.” A faded carved wooden sign hung on the edge of the gate. “Grant.”
We both sat up straighter.
“I’m going to park here, and we’ll climb over. What do you say?”
“Let’s do it.”
Tania reversed her Yukon away from the gate and parked it on the side of the rocky path. She shoved the map, her papers and notebook along with my wallet in her messenger bag. I tucked my cell phone in my back pocket and stuffed my handbag under my seat, hiding it from view. I hopped down from the truck and closed the door. I glanced in the side mirror and smoothed over the skin under my eyes with my fingertips as Tania locked the truck.
“Well, there’s no Private Property or No Trespassing sign, so…” She shrugged.
Tania toed her boots into the slats of the fence and heaved herself over it. I followed, and she steadied me by the arm. I jumped down on the other side. We were in. We trudged up the road winding up a small hill. Our boots crunched over the gravel and small rocks. The occasional bird circled in the pale gray sky, rays of sun struggling to break through.
Eventually, the hill evened out, and up ahead, rusted shells of decades-old automobiles dotted the overgrown wild grasses like oversized bugs. As we weaved our way between them, a row of aluminum shacks became visible in the distance leading up to a dilapidated small wood two story house. Before us was a field littered with towering piles of rusted gadgets and devices, unrecognizable thingamajigs and bits, sinks, metal piping, signs for stores—several for a local dairy and others for gas stations, luncheonettes and a beer brewery—long since gone, a huge marquee from an old movie palace. It was a junkyard, a museum au naturel that time had forgotten. Weeds and brush wound their way in between the piled scrap, coiling and knitting it together to the land. Rambunctious, ugly, and perversely organic.
Tania was entranced, standing still amid the chaos. Her face was flushed, her eyes scanning the property, up and down, as she reveled in the discovery of this field of yet undiscovered gold. Her entire body was at attention as if she were listening to the eerie call of textures and shapes scattered before her. She unclipped her mini flashlight from her bag, which she’d removed from her shoulder, and wordlessly handed to me. I dropped the thick nylon bag, crosswise, over my body, adjusting it.
I smiled to myself as she moved carefully through the piles of scrap crap. Tania searched and hunted through an endless series of piled high traffic lights, old cola vending machines, kerosene oil tank pumps and dispensers. On some innate instinct, she knew where to linger, her fingers skimming surfaces, investigating, turning the objects over, trying to read old labels, engravings, searching for brand names, dates, assessing rust and decay, wiping away dirt. There was so much stuff that it truly boggled me how anyone could live this way and want to preserve it, but I knew the human mind
could convince itself of anything. At the end of the day, this was Grant’s personal creation, his unique universe.
“Oh, look at this!” Tania hovered over an old Esso gasoline pump.
“How old is that?”
“Has to be from the early forties at least. Collectors love them, and they use these on film sets, too. Beautiful.” She took out her phone and took photos of it. “Oh God, there’s another one.”
“I’ll go see if Mr. Grant’s around?”
“Yes! Good idea.”
I meandered through the field of glorious junk, hoping to find anything that remotely resembled the parts that I knew Miller and Tricky, his car repair specialist, were after. I passed a fallen wall of rusted iron gates from a bygone era on the side of one of the shacks. The door hung open, and I peered inside. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. No wild critters jumped out at me—not yet at least. I stepped inside.
The late morning sun filtered through the dank space, revealing an undisturbed army of worn objects crammed throughout, thick particles of dust and debris floating everywhere. Rusted bicycle frames stood, stacked in rows. Tens of old railroad lamps lined a table. I tugged open the door wider to let more light in, and a shelf of bike lights greeted along the wall. My fingers roamed over the damp cold metal of an old motor at my side.
I bent over it.
How the heck am I going to tell if—
My phone rang. I slipped it from my pocket.
Boner.
“Hey—”
“What the fuck are you doing in Nebraska?”
“What? I came down with Tania on a shopping expedition for her store and—”
“Get the fuck out of there now!”
“What the hell are you talking about? How do you—”
“Listen. There’s shit going down between the Flames of Hell and the Blades, and I don’t care if you’re hanging at McDonald’s or the local police station. It ain’t good. Get Tania, and get out!”
“Nebraska’s a big state.”
“You’re in Flames territory, Grace. Does Lock know where you are?”
“Not really. He went on a scouting trip early this morning, and I couldn’t reach him when Tania and I got on the road a couple of hours ago.”
“Fuck!”
“How do you know where I am?”
“How the fuck do you think?”
“Of course. Stupid question,” I retorted. Knowing my husband and Boner, I was positive they had put a tracking device on my phone a while back—just in case.
A scraping sound arose by the bicycle frames and behind a large telephone operator switchboard. My stomach hardened.
Ugh. Possums? Raccoons? Rats?
A shiver needled up my back as I retreated, straining my eyes for any quick movement over the junk heaped on the tables and the sagging shelves.
“Grace? I’m less than two hours away from where you are. You hear? I’m on my way!” Boner’s voice buzzed in my ear.
Disconnected.
What the hell?
Metal creaked and groaned from across the packed room. My body tightened, my gaze darting everywhere. If the wild critters weren’t enough, there were now opposing MCs on the warpath.
So much for the carefree getaway.
I moved backward toward the open door. Muffled sounds, a rustling, came from that same corner. A soft murmuring sound. No scurrying of ratlike creatures. No, that sounds like a…
I held my breath as I shoved back the metal door further. Light streamed in the shack, illuminating the crowded interior. A pair of glassy eyes peered at me from the far wall. My heart jumped in my throat as I strained to see clearly. The soft babbling sound grew louder. I blinked. A toddler, a little girl not more than a year old was stretched out on a blanket playing with some sort of toy, her legs kicking on the ground. Her one foot was tied by a rope to the stand of an oversized beater from a bakery.
“Oh my God!” I blurted.
The child’s head turned, and she squinted in the light now flooding that corner of the shack. A wail broke from her lips, her little hands reaching out to me. Adrenaline shot through me as I shoved junk out of my way to get to her. My heart pounded wildly as I slid to my knees in front of the little girl with a dark blonde mop of hair. What the hell was she doing here? What kind of monster had tied up a baby and abandoned it?
My one hand tucked into the messenger bag and closed over my key chain that had my old Swiss Army knife on it. I sliced through the rope attached to her one foot, and the little girl’s face broke into a huge smile. Her legs flexed and kicked against the floor again.
“Hold on. Hold on, honey. Almost there.”
I tugged on the frayed rope as she yanked her leg free.
“There you go. Oh, sweetie!” I lifted her and tucked her into my embrace.
Her little fists grabbed at my hair.
“Who did this to you?”
Two blue eyes pierced mine as if they understood the gravity of my question. Her face was cold, her diaper full.
“We’ve got to get you out of here now.”
I jerked my cell phone out of my pocket and messaged Boner 9XX—as in, this is a dire-emergency-so-get-your-ass-over-here-now 911. It was our code from the old days, and it remained my reflex reaction in an emergency. He’d said he was on his way. He should know that something was already up before he stepped in. I couldn’t be sure if this was Mr. Grant’s doing or someone else’s, but if there was one thing I’d learned, it was not to take any chances and prepare for the worst. I hit the Send button and tucked the phone back in my jeans.
“Okay, baby. Let’s go. It’s chilly in here. Oh, yes, it is.”
I held her close, and she immediately wrapped her tiny arms around my neck yanking on my hair, her tiny fingers pinching at my neck.
“That’s it.” Tucking her closer into my chest, I raised myself up and turned.
The wood table to the left creaked and groaned. I froze.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” a male voice growled at me from the shadows.
“STOP RIGHT THERE, BITCH,” he seethed.
I stumbled back at the hard glint of a gun pointed at me. In the rays of light glowing through the shed, I saw the figure moving forward. My body stiffened.
Creeper.
Welcome to my nightmare.
His eyes sunken, his teeth bared like a desperate animal’s, he was slumped against the wall, the gun in his hand trained on me. After news of him working with Vig had broken open last year, the disgraced One-Eyed Jack had left the club’s North Dakota chapter and gone underground. There had been a charter-wide APB out on him ever since.
“Aw, ain’t this something, huh, Sister? You and me, fuckin’ meant to be.” He cackled, his headful of straggly dark hair thrown back.
My heart thundered in my chest.
A sneer soured his face further. “This is turning out to be my lucky day. I’m gonna enjoy this.”
Yeah, he still hated me—and with good reason.
I swallowed hard. “What the hell is going on?”
“You’re holding my goody bag.”
My stomach churned. “You kidnapped this little girl? Are you insane?”
“Oh, it’s just been a few hours. We been having fun. She took a nap. I tripped out.”
“What the hell, Creeper? What is going on with you?”
“You missed me, huh?” He laughed. “After the fun we had with Vig last year?”
The One-Eyed Jacks had been searching for him for payback ever since that night last year when he had aligned himself with the Demon Seeds, I tried to end my business arrangement with Vig, and Creeper had threatened to rape me to make a point.
My phone rang. Damn it.
A thousand needles pricked my throat.
He smirked at me. “Give me your phone.”
“Creeper—”
“Give me your fucking phone now!”
I handed him my phone. “Is it Half-Breed calling his lady love
?” He glanced at my phone. “Ah, no. Mr. Boner. Fascinating. He knows you’re here?”
“No.”
Creeper smirked as he dropped the phone to the ground and jammed the heel of his boot into it.
Motherfudgemycake.
“Grace? Are you in here?”
Tania.
“I think I found an Indian gas tank. You need to come see and tell me if—what the hell?” Tania froze in the entryway of the shed, the light streaming in around her figure as if she were a celestial Wonder Woman.
If only.
Creeper yanked at me, twisting me around in his grip, and shoving his gun against my head. The baby yelped and began to cry, and I cradled her head. The stink of his sweat, musty clothing, and bad breath overwhelmed me, and I grit my teeth.
“Get over here, or I shoot her,” he spit out.
“What the fuck?” muttered Tania.
“Move! Now, bitch.”
Tania shuffled inside a few more steps. “Grace, you okay?”
“Shut it, and get inside!”
Tania stepped farther inside the shed, her eyes widening at the sight of me holding the child.
“Get on your knees.”
She scowled at him, and fell to her knees. He shoved me closer to Tania until we stood in front of her.
He studied her. “I like your friend, Sister. Don’t fucking move. Creeper released me and secured a plastic tie around Tania’s wrists.
“Jesus. Why are you doing this? Why did you take someone’s little girl?” I asked, my hands stroking over the baby’s back as she pleaded with me to make this all better, her pouty cheeks wet, her whimpers getting louder, her full lips spluttering.
“You know this jerk?” Tania asked.
Vig chuckled. “Me and Sister got history.”
Tania’s face tightened. “Well, isn’t Sister the lucky one?”
“Watch your mouth, or I’m gonna shut it by shoving my dick all the way in it.”
“Then I’m going to have to bite it off.”
“Aw! This should be loads of fun.” He muttered, stroking the side of her face with his gun.
She clenched her jaw.
“Me and Sister got unfinished business. Last time I saw her, she shot me in the leg and took off on my bike,” he said.