“Months!” I repeat.
“Sometimes trials get put off for a year or more if there’s a backup at the lab and we’re waiting on evidence from them.”
“He can’t wait a year!” Malcolm shouts.
“If Nash agrees, I could ask for a speedy trial. The downside to rushing is missing something critical that will tank the case in court. As far as I’ve seen, all they have is a witness. No prints, no DNA, no videos or anything else tying him to the scene. So, do you think it’s worth the gamble?”
“Yes,” Malcolm says confidently since we know that the DA’s witness is about to go MIA.
“All right. I’ll go talk to Nash this afternoon; and if he agrees, I’ll file the paperwork.”
“Thanks, Jay. We appreciate your help on this.” Malcolm holds out his hand for the attorney to shake, and then he’s gone.
After he leaves, I go to work double-time on tracking down this chef, Cora Walsh, and locating all the properties owned by her relatives. Then, I take a little drive over to the closest one in her parents’ name.
I’m only outside for ten minutes before I see a young, redheaded woman walk past a window. Good thing I’m not a sniper and the MC doesn’t want her dead. She’s not making this very difficult. It’s definitely her. She doesn’t seem to have used any filters on any of her photos online, and her hair is a dead giveaway.
When I get back to the pool hall, I practically skip inside I’m so happy to have made progress for Nash.
“I found her,” I singsong to Malcolm, who is sitting at the bar.
“No shit?” he asks in surprise. I slip him a piece of paper that he lifts and reads.
“What’s the plan now?”
“Let’s get everyone to the table again and scan for bugs,” he grumbles, getting up and taking the paper with him.
I head into the room with them without any electronic devices and lean against the wall to wait for the men to take their seats.
“Thanks to Jetta and Lucy, we’ve got a home address for the chef. She’s been laying low, probably afraid even though the DA promised to keep her name off the record. She knows we’re not stupid and would eventually realize it was her. That’s why she hasn’t been at work and the house she’s staying in is deeded to her parents.”
“How are we going to handle her?” Wirth asks.
“You’ve got the chop shop to run, Devlin and Fiasco have their construction jobs, I’ve got the MC businesses and a kid to take care of, so I’m thinking we let Silas handle this one. Not to mention he may be the only one of us who has the balls to kidnap and hold a woman hostage.”
“Fuck yeah,” he agrees excitedly.
“You cannot, I repeat, cannot kill her no matter what, do you understand?” Malcolm asks the man. “I would prefer if you don’t hurt her either, if at all possible.”
“I’ve got this,” Silas agrees. “I won’t let you all or Nash down. And the woman? She won’t even know she’s a hostage.”
“How the hell are you gonna manage that?” Devlin asks with his brow furrowed.
Cracking his knuckles, Silas tells him, “Now I can’t go around giving away all of my secrets.”
“You’re a sick bastard,” Wirth says with a shake of his head.
“Keep her in one piece,” Malcolm reiterates, as if it’s necessary. “And no mind-fucking either.”
“I’ll do my best,” Silas agrees when he gets to his feet. Malcolm then hands him the piece of paper with the address I’m responsible for finding, making me feel a little queasy. “Give me…seventy-two hours; then report her missing.”
“Seventy-two?” Dev asks.
“Yeah, man. It’s going to take a little time to line shit up.”
“You sure you can handle this?” Malcolm asks.
“Yep,” Silas answers.
“All right then. Good luck. Stay in touch as much as possible,” Malcolm replies.
“Might be tricky to reach out with what I have planned, but I’ll check in when I can.”
With a nod from Malcolm, he takes off.
And I’m not the only one who looks nervous. If his best friends are worried, that’s not exactly reassuring.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Nash
* * *
Solitary confinement is lonely; but honestly, I would rather be alone with my thoughts than crammed in with half a dozen other stinky bastards in a six-by-eight cell.
Here, it’s quiet, peaceful, unlike the constant chaos in gen pop. I’m free to close my eyes and drift in and out of sleep with my memories of the past weekend with Lucy.
Those were the best few days of my life, despite the circumstances or the location.
By the second night we were together, the one right after the wedding, missing Ellie was the furthest thought from my mind. Lucy was what I had needed all along to finally move on. I hate that it took so long for her to find me and that we had so little time together. I spend most of my waking moments replaying every conversation we had, every touch and glance we shared, etching them permanently into my memory. They will be the last happy memories I have for the rest of my life.
The best I can hope for now is just this — a barren, silent room with only one comfort. At least in here, I can close my eyes without worrying about what the maniac in the next bunk might do to me while I’m unconscious. I found out quickly that you never really sleep when you’re in jail. Everyone inside is a nervous cat, only one breath or twitch away from exploding, never able to completely let their guard down and relax.
It’s the most exhausting thing I’ve ever experienced. When I really think about it, I’m pretty sure that the anxiety of general population or the silence and sensory deprivation of solitary are just two different lanes on a highway leading to insanity. I don’t know how long the trip will be to get there, but all I can do is pray an exit comes along before I arrive.
Lucy
* * *
I’m pacing back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the pool hall bright and early, waiting over an hour for Malcolm when he rolls up on his bike around ten-thirty. The only reason I didn’t show up at his house to harass him was because I didn’t want to wake up the baby or piss off his woman.
“What’s taking so long?” I yell at him as soon as he kills the engine.
“It’s only been two weeks since the chef went missing. These things take time,” he grumbles as he climbs off and removes his helmet. “Jay isn’t too happy with us right now either, thinking we had something to do with it.”
“We did!” I say, causing him to glare at me, looking left, right and behind him to make sure no one overheard. The street is clear. I’m not that stupid.
“Get inside and don’t say another word!” Malcolm snaps at me.
Once we’re inside the air-conditioned building, I can breathe a little easier but not much.
“Have you heard from Silas yet?” I ask softly as he goes around turning on the lights.
“No. I haven’t,” he huffs. “Not since that day in the chapel when we gave him her address.”