Dark Guardian (Black Hoods MC Book 3)

by Avelyn Paige

  “This is Miss Crabtree. She was here when Kevin and Natalie were enrolled.” Miss Crabtree smiles and extends her hand out to greet me with a limp shake. “Please, take a seat.”

  Settling into the open seat next to Miss Crabtree, I open up my case file on my lap and retrieve the images I had found from the other two cases and my tape recorder. Both of the women eye it suspiciously.

  “Is that necessary?” Miss Crabtree questions.

  “In child investigations, I’m required by law to record all conversations with the children. If you both consent, I’d like to also record your observations should I need additional evidence to get a court order if I deem it necessary.”

  “Of course,” the superintendent agrees. “Miss Crabtree?”

  “I suppose that’s all right.”

  Setting the recorder down on the desk in front of me, I click the record button. “Case number 204678. Natalie and Kevin Tucker. Interview with school staff.” I look up at the women. “I have two photographs I’d like to show you.” Handing over the two images to Miss Crabtree, I allow her a few seconds to study them. “Do you recognize these children?” A part of me hopes these aren’t the same kids, but the flash of recognition in her eyes douses that hope.

  “She looks like the girl. A little younger, maybe, but she’s got the same dark hair and sad eyes.”

  “And the boy?”

  “I mean, he could be the same boy, but I’m not sure.” She peers at it closely, but shakes her head. “Are these the Tucker kids?”

  It’s not implausible that Kevin had changed in the years since these photos were taken, but the resemblance of the girl means that, unfortunately, they’re more than likely the same two kids who’ve already been in the system. A shame, really. The hope that their lives had improved for the better since their last stint in foster care is heartbreaking.

  “I was hoping I was wrong, but I believe they are. What can you tell me about the man who came with them on registration day?”

  Pulling out a pad of paper and a pen from my briefcase, I place them both on top of the file on my lap.

  “He was older,” she remarks. “I guess late forties? Big beard.” Her hands begin at her chin and move downward. “About to here, I think.”

  I jot down her observations. “Is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

  “He was very rude when I called him about the enrollment paperwork and their previous records. Even more so when he came into the office about the matter.”

  “Could you go a little more into detail about that?”

  “I believe he said, and I apologize for the language, ‘Since when the fuck do you have to have shot records for kids?’ He fought with me for several minutes before he said he’d bring me the paperwork later. He left after that.”

  “And did he provide that paperwork?” Records like this could be crucial in retracing the steps of both kids. We’d have more avenues of information gathering to pursue, at least. The principal clears her throat, and we both shift to look in her direction.

  “When the IT department pulled the records on file for the kids with the registration paperwork you requested, these were in the system with it.” She slides over a thin stack of papers to me.

  “I thought you said he didn’t bring you the paperwork?” I question Miss Crabtree, who shrinks back into her chair beside me. “If it’s in the school’s system, he would’ve had to bring it into the office. Am I correct?”

  “He didn’t. At least, I didn’t see him again, but he might have brought them in while I was at lunch.”

  “I’d check with our normal administrative assistant, but she’s been out sick this week. I’m assuming he left it with her.” Ms. Pyle shrugs her shoulders. “Nevertheless, it’s all in order.”

  I thumb through the top copy and find several pages of transfer records, and even a short medical record history for both children. The last page draws my interest the most, which has their guardian’s name written in broad strokes: Eugene Grant. The address is a little harder to read, but the street couldn’t be that far away from the school.

  “I think this will do for now. I’ll need to keep a copy of this paperwork for our records.”

  “It’s all yours. We have the originals digitally held in our cloud storage.”

  “If that’s all you need from me, I had the guidance counselor pull them from class under the guise of a new student orientation meeting. If you’ll follow me, I’ll introduce you.”

  “Will you please privately notify the counselor that I will be recording my interaction with the children?”

  “I’ll just send her a message now that we’re on our way, and will let her know about the recording device.” She types quickly on an open laptop to her left, smiling when she strikes the last key.

  “She’s aware, and they’re ready for you.”

  With a polite nod to Miss Crabtree, I collect my files and tape recorder, and follow the superintendent to the closed office I’d passed earlier. Knocking quietly, she opens the door, apologizes for interrupting, and introduces me to the counselor, Mrs. Parks, who waves me inside. The second I walk over the threshold, two pairs of eyes focus intently on me, like they know I’m here for them.

  Dear God. There’s no doubt the images I have are of the same children sitting in front of me, their worry clear as day on their faces. The same eyes. Same faces. By all appearances, they look healthy, but physical health doesn’t prove there’s no physical abuse, if that’s the case here.

  Stepping inside the office, I nod when Ms. Pyle closes the door behind us. Taking the only available seat in the room next to Natalie, I tuck my briefcase beside my feet on the floor, but quickly conceal the recorder on the top of it, away from the kids’ line of sight. She recoils back in her chair and leans closer to her brother, who’s staring a hole right through me with angry eyes.

  “Who’s she?” Kevin mutters to the counselor.

  “A friend,” I reply sweetly. “My name is Grace. What’s your name?”

  “A friend would know our name,” he fires back.

  I smile. “Of course.”

  “Kevin Tucker,” Mrs. Parks admonishes.

  Kevin eyes me up and down, analyzing every inch of me, like he’s one of those X-ray scanners at the airport looking for dangerous objects. He frowns, unamused at my assumption of being their friend. If I had been in the system for as long as they had, I’d be wary of anyone claiming to be my friend as well. I have to play this carefully, or risk losing the chance of speaking to them one-on-one. Well, one-on-two.

  “I understand you’re both new here. Did you just move?”

  Natalie remains quiet, while Kevin rolls his eyes at me. “Why does that matter?”

  “It’s just a part of getting to know you both as new students,” Mrs. Parks coolly lies. “Please answer the question, Kevin.”

  “Yes. We moved here a few weeks ago.”

  “With your family?”

  Natalie shoots a puzzled look over to her brother before leaning in to whisper in his ear, but he shakes his head to silence her.

  “With our uncle.”

  Uncle? What about their mother? She’s their legal guardian, so for the kids to be living with another family member strikes me as odd. Curious, even, because not a single family member came forward to take custody of them when their mother had been arrested. If this uncle can take them in now, why didn’t he previously? The more I think about it, the more the swirling pit of uneasiness unfurls inside of me.

  It’s plausible she handed over custody to their uncle, but we should’ve been notified with the change of status in their prior cases. A search of the court case records should give me insight into if it was legally done, but the problem will be if there is even a record at all. So many custodial parents with a history of drug abuse or criminal activity dump their kids on a family member’s doorstep, never to be seen again. The key to all of this is finding out how they ended up with his man, and where their mother is.


  “What’s your uncle’s name?”

  “Jud—Uncle Eugene.”

  “Do you like where you live?”

  His body tenses. Too soon, Grace. Too soon. Get back on track.

  “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to, Kevin.”

  “Can we go back to class now? My sister and I have been sick. I don’t want to fall further behind in our schoolwork.”

  The urgency to flee is obvious in his voice. He’s uncomfortable with my line of questions. Mrs. Parks shoots over a concerned glare. I’m losing him, and pressing more might shut him down completely. I’m at a proverbial dead end until I can verify all the information now in my possession and speak with their uncle. My time is up.

  “Seriously, can we leave now?” he asks, this time with a little more attitude as he gets to his feet and reaches out for his sister.

  “It’s okay, Kevin. You and Natalie can go back to class.”

  Without another word, they leave the room like it’s been set on fire.

  Mrs. Parks forces a smile. “I’m sorry. New schools can be overwhelming for older kids. I’m sure if you let him settle in, he’ll be more forthcoming next time.”

  “Maybe,” I lie, knowing that children from their backgrounds never feel safe around people like me. They see us as the devil knocking at their door, trying to steal them away from their family. Kevin knew exactly who I was. He could read me like an open book. You only get that kind of spatial awareness when you’ve been on the other side of the social services’ coin.

  With a polite “Thank you,” I take my leave with the request that if they’re absent within the next few days to call me. I’m lost in my own head when my body hits an immovable object when I step outside the main office.

  “Miss Crabtree,” I blurt out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  “It’s my fault. I’ve been waiting on you to leave the office so I could talk to you one-on-one.”

  “Is there something you didn’t mention before?”

  She blushes. “Yes. I was the one who made the call. I know I didn’t leave my name, but I didn’t want to risk my job, or my life.”

  “Your life? How could a call such as yours put your life at risk?”

  Her gaze shifts away from me as she nervously chews on her bottom lip. “He’s a biker. He had on this black leather vest with a logo on the back of it. You know, like the kind on television. It had the little patches on the front and everything. His said “Judge” on it.”

  “Did his vest have anything else on it? Like an insignia?”

  Motorcycles were popular in our state with the year-round riding weather, but her notice of the name on the front of his jacket will be helpful to identify his club affiliation. Not that there were many clubs around here that I knew about, but I have to explore all the possibilities.

  “It did,” she whispers. “Black Hoods MC.”

  The feeling that had been festering in the pit of my stomach explodes at the mention of that particular club’s name. The Black Hoods are notorious in Austin, and if they’re somehow involved with these kids, my case just became much more complicated than just two kids without paperwork.

  I thank her for her information, and the second I’m out the door, I retrieve my cell phone from my bag and type in a number for someone who might be able to help me now that bikers may be involved. I notice my recorder on the top of my bag, still recording. Her additional information became even more important now that I have it on tape.

  “How’s the prettiest girl in Texas?” his baritone voice almost coos into the receiver. “You ready to accept that offer of mine and go out on a date with me? My dancing boots have been itching for a night on the town with a pretty lady like you.”

  “Hey, Aaron.” Aaron and I had met a few years ago when I’d been called to work one of his cases for the Austin PD. He was a new hire at the time, and new to the area. After working together for a few weeks on the case, we’d struck up a rapport with each other.

  “This isn’t a social call, is it?” His tone tells me he’s clearly disappointed.

  “I wish it was, but I need your help. What do you know about the Black Hoods MC? I’ve got a new case they may be involved with.”

  His voice goes cold. “They’re bad news, Gracie. If they’re involved, you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  “That’s precisely why I’m calling you.”

  Judge

  “That’s great. Thanks, Sharon.” Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I plaster a serious look on my face.

  “What did she say?” Twat Knot asks, unable to take the silence any longer.

  I sigh, as if I’m about to deliver bad news, but I can’t hold back my own grin. “They accepted the offer. We got ourselves a new garage, boys. I’ll sign later this afternoon and pay the lady.”

  Cheers and hoots of excitement fill the meeting room, and though I usually like to keep our church meetings serious and business related, I join in. This garage is exactly what this club needs.

  Sure, we have a purpose. We help people in trouble when the police aren’t doing their jobs, but that doesn’t pay the bills. Buying this garage will offer endless possibilities for the members of this club and their families. A new venture to financially support the club, and to add a desperately needed amenity to the neighborhood, as well as a way to help our new members and kids get work experience.

  “To new futures!” Karma declares, holding his beer bottle high over the center of the table.

  “And more money!” Twat Knot cheers as everyone clinks their bottles together in celebration.

  Once everyone has settled, I take my seat at the head of the table, motioning for the others to do the same. “We’ve been so busy taking care of everyone else, it’s high time we take care of ourselves. We’ve worked hard for this, but now that we actually have the place, the hard work is just beginning.”

  “Figures,” Twat Knot groans. I nod at Karma, who smirks and swats him across the back of the head.

  “Things are about to get a lot busier around here, but the ride is going to be so fucking worth it. Who’s with me?” More cheers echo through the room, and I grin, slamming the gavel down on the table, ending the formality of our meeting. “Another round of beers!” I call out.

  Everyone piles out of the room toward where the beer is kept. I’m right behind them, but stop when my phone rings. The name on the screen sets me into an instant panic.

  Accepting the call, I press the phone to my ear. “Kevin, is everything okay?”

  “No, I don’t think it is,” he whispers.

  I close the door to the meeting room, muffling the sound of excited bikers in the other room. “What’s going on, kid?”

  He continues to whisper. “There was some chick here today. She tried to tell us she was a friend. She was asking all kinds of questions about who we live with and who you are.”

  Fuck.

  “Did she give you her name?”

  “Grace. That’s all she said. I didn’t tell her anything, I swear. I don’t think she works for the school, though. She looked like a social worker.” He’s seen enough of them to know.

  Sighing, I rub my hand down my face. Figures. One good thing happens, only to immediately be followed by something bad. “It’s all good, Kev. I’ll look into it. You and your sister okay, though?”

  “Yeah. Nat’s back in class, and I’m headed to mine now.”

  “Good,” I mutter, distracted now by thoughts of who this Grace bitch might be and why she’s asking my kids questions at all. “Thanks for telling me, Kev. I’ll deal with it, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay. Bye.”

  As soon as the call disconnects, I go to the door and call out for Hashtag.

  “What’s up?” he asks, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him.

  “Someone was sniffing around the kids at school, some bitch named Grace. Didn’t give them any more info, but I got a bad feeling. K
evin said he was pretty sure she was a social worker.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  Groaning, I lean my ass against the table. “I don’t even fucking know,” I admit. “Check the school personnel roster for a Grace, see if she even works there. Or see if there are any flags on their file. Something. Anything. I just got those kids, and I’ll be damned if anyone’s gonna take them away from me.”

  I’d lost my family once before, and I sure as fuck won’t lose this one.

  “Yeah, no problem. I’ll see what I can find. Give me an hour.”

  Hashtag disappears as he heads toward his office.

  Mom approaches me, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  “There might be a complication with the kids.”

  “Need me to look into it?”

  I clap my hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate it, man, but Hash is going to see what he can find out with that computer shit he does. Besides, you’ve got enough problems to deal with on your own. I can’t ask you to take on anymore.”

  “You ain’t fuckin’ kidding. But if you need me, let me know. Crazy wife and all, I’m here for you and those kids.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “I wish I could tell you it gets easier as they get older, but my kids are just like me.”

  “No wonder Marie’s a fucking psycho. She lives with you and your clones.”

  His smile is genuine when he acknowledges, “Keeps life interesting.”

  A wail from the other side of the room draws our attention. Rushing out, we find Marie on top of one of the tables, dancing like a stripper on dollar dance night, gyrating her hips while the drink in her hand sloshes all over the table. Slipping, she lands flat on her ass, laughing, while Mom looks over to me and scowls.

  “Woman’s gonna send me to an early grave, I’m telling ya.”