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“You need to have surgery, Briella. I’ve booked it in for two weeks from now, I recommend you come home. The tumor hasn’t grown, which is a good thing, but every day you waste you’re pushing your luck further.”
I exhale over the phone to Doc, who just got my most recent results after the hospital Mykel took me too ran a few more scans. They checked everything out and advised they were sending everything to him. He called almost immediately to give me the news I have known all along, but have been trying to avoid.
I need surgery.
Now.
“Okay,” I say into the phone. “Okay, I will be back in two weeks for the surgery.”
“You need to be back at least two days prior so we can do bloods, scans, and get you prepared.”
“I’ll be there, Doc. Send me what appointments you need, and I’ll be there.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Briella. I hope you find your sister soon. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
I hang up the phone and finish up with the doctor before heading back out to where Mykel has been patiently waiting for the last three hours. He stands when I walk over, and I put up a hand, giving him a smile. “I’m all good. Everything is fine. We can go home.”
“You goin’ to tell me what the fuck is happenin’?”
“I have low blood sugar,” I lie. “It gets out of control, I’m working hard to get it back on track but it’s not going as planned. I’m okay now.”
He nods but doesn’t look convinced. I wouldn’t either. I know nothing about low blood sugar, it was just the first thing that came to my mind that would be the most believable.
“Well, I’m not convinced you’re okay but I’m glad you’re still standin’. Let’s get you back to Cohen’s.”
I nod and we walk out of the hospital and head back to Cohen’s house. When we arrive, I see Alarick’s truck in the driveway. Great, that’s just what I need right now. To deal with him and his wrath.
I get out of the truck and walk inside to see all the guys sitting at the table, discussing something. When I walk in, their heads all come up and the moment I see their faces, I know something is wrong. I don’t know how, maybe it’s the way they’re all looking at me like they’re about to tell me the worst news of my life, or maybe it’s the way Alarick hasn’t growled something horrible to me yet.
“What’s going on?” I ask, starting at Alarick first, because he’s least likely to protect my feelings. “Flick, what’s happening?”
I say his nickname without thought, but I see the way his eyes flash.
“You good?”
“I’m fine. Just a blood sugar issue. What’s going on?”
He looks to Cohen, who stands and says, “Sit in my seat, Bri.”
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper as I sit down in the chair. “Can you tell me what’s happening?”
“We found Magnolia’s car.”
It’s Flick who speaks, so my eyes move to him and he stares at me, looking the least angry I’ve seen him since I came home. “And?” I say, my voice tight.
“It was abandoned on an old highway. Got a report about it a few hours ago. Sent Samson and Kendric to go check it out, and soon figured out who it belonged to.”
“Okay,” I say, shaking my head. “So, her car is there, was she?”
“No,” Kendric adds, taking over. “No, she wasn’t, but gotta tell you, honey, it looked bad. There was a lot of blood around the area and in the front driver’s side. Also what looked like a gunshot hole in the left hand side window and in the panels on the car.”
My head spins. Wait, are they telling me that they think Magnolia got shot? She’s ... hurt? Or worse?
“She wasn’t there,” I whisper. “You think someone hurt her.”
“Her phone was there, all her things, but she wasn’t. Blood trailed off toward another set of tire marks, and it ended there. Got to assume someone took her, meaning she could still be alive otherwise they probably would have just left her in the car,” Samson tells me, giving me a small nod in an attempt to let me know he understands.
I shake my head and then drop it into my hands, taking a deep steady breath to try and calm myself. Magnolia is missing. I have no idea where she could be or who she is with. All I know is that what was meant to be a quick trip is now becoming a complicated one, one that I’m not sure I can deal with right now, you know, tumor in my brain and all.
“We’ll find her,” Alarick says, his voice strong and determined. “Know people, we’ll find her.”
“What if she’s dead?” I say, looking up at him. “What if the last person I have left is dead.”
My voice breaks and I stand, “I’m sorry.”
I walk off down the hall, unable to deal with this a second longer. If something has happened to Mag’s, I don’t know if I can deal with it. She’s my sister, the only person in my family I have left. If she’s gone, I’m alone. Truly alone.
I don’t know if I can take that.
I don’t know if I have it in me anymore.
I close my bedroom door and walk over to the bed, putting my head in my hands and taking a few deep breaths. I wonder what could have happened to her. Is she hurt? Dead? Is she willingly with someone? I have so many questions and not so many answers. I want to know, more than anything, but I’m unable to do anything at this point when I have no idea where to even start.
Realizing I left my phone in the living area, I stand and walk back out. I’m just about to round the corner to where all the guys are, but I stop when I hear them talking. Their voices trail down the hall quite clearly, and what I hear is a different version to what I just got. Anger bubbles in my chest as I realize that they just flat out lied to me. They made up a story to cover the truth.
“There were no bullet holes in the car,” Alarick says. “There was, however, a fuck load of blood. My guess is whoever she’s with she knew, and she wasn’t concerned at the beginning. My guess is she’s in deep with drugs, found a fuckin’ good lot of ice in the trunk. We’ve been dealin’ to a few groups for a while now, I suggest we start there. Find the main buyers that we deal to and see what information we can dig up.”
“Not sure why you didn’t tell Bri all this, Flick,” Mykel says, his voice gruff. “You should be honest with her.”
“And tell her that her sister is a fuckin’ crack whore who has been sleepin’ around for drugs? That she’s been so far gone for a while and she didn’t notice? Rather her think her sister has been abducted randomly then for her to think someone has come after her because she owes them somethin’. Chances are she’s fuckin’ dead in a ditch somewhere and there is no findin’ her. We all know this, not one of you piped up and said anythin’.”
“Flick is right,” Samson says. “It’s best she doesn’t know. Not only is it dangerous, but the more questions she asks the deeper it’ll go. We don’t want to risk her in that regard. We’re doin’ the best we can here by keepin it a secret.”
“A secret?” I say, stepping out of the hall.
Surprisingly, if they’re shocked I was there the whole time, they don’t show it.
“Briella ...” Mykel says.
“You lied to me,” I say, my voice a low whip, looking at Flick with hurt in my eyes. “You just outright lied to me. You’ve been lying to me since the moment I got into town. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
He stands, his face hard as he walks over to me. “I’m doin’ the best I can to protect you, Briella.”
“No, you’re doing the best you can to protect your damned club because you’re running around dealing drugs and you don’t want me to draw attention to that.”
He grabs my arm, a little roughly, and I wince. I look up at him with tears in my eyes and hiss, “You let me go, right now.”
He does, letting me go and stepping back. “You need to be very careful what you’re doin’ here.”
“For you, or for me? You don’t give a crap about Magnolia, you never have, and that’s fine but I do give a crap about her and I’m not going to sit back and let something happen to her because you’re trying to protect the club. She’s my sister. I’m going to help her whether you like it or not. Now, you tell me the damned truth.”
“You want to know the truth?” Flick growls, his voice low, his face tight.
“Yes, I fucking do.”
“Alarick,” Kendric warns, his eyes narrowing. “Careful.”
Flick ignores him and looks me dead in the eye when he says, “Magnolia is fuckin’ for drugs. She’s sellin’ her pussy for money so she can get fuckin’ high. She’s messin’ with the wrong people. She’s stealin’ things that aren’t hers and she’s goin’ way off the fuckin’ rails. She’s a mess and nothin’ you say or do is goin’ to fuckin’ fix that.”
My blood boils and I yell, “Why haven’t you helped her? Why would you sit back and watch her sink. You are so fucking selfish!”
“I’m fuckin’ selfish?” he laughs, bitterly. “You ran because you couldn’t handle what was goin’ down. You disappeared without so much as a goodbye and you’re standin’ here tellin’ me I’m selfish? You left her here. You let her deal with losin’ your mom on her own. You want to point fuckin’ fingers, Briella, point them at yourself.”
His words are crushing, not because they’re wrong, but because they’re right. He’s right, I did leave Magnolia here and when I text her or called her, I didn’t realize something was going on. I didn’t realize she was suffering; I didn’t realize that she was even doing drugs. I didn’t know my sister was in trouble. He’s right about that.
“Where is her car?” I say softly, my voice about to break right along with me.
“Not for you to worry about,” Alarick tells me, his voice strong and unwavering.
“Where. The. Fuck. Is. Her. Car,” I grind out. “You tell me, or I go to the fuckin’ cops and tell them what I know and report her as missing. The choice is yours, Alarick. I will do whatever it takes to find her.”
His jaw ticks and he leans down close, so close I can smell his breath, the masculine scent that is so overwhelming for a moment I just breathe it in, even though my eyes don’t waver from his. “Do not fuckin’ threaten me. Do not ever fuckin’ threaten me.”
“Okay,” Cohen steps forward, raising a hand. “Not goin’ to watch this go on all fuckin’ night. She has the right to see her sister’s car, and she’s right, we shouldn’t have fuckin’ lied to her. She wants the truth, give her the truth in all its glory. Either way, we’re all in on this and we’re all goin’ to have to find a way to get along until we find Mags. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, either of you.”
Alarick’s eyes are still locked on mine, but a moment later he steps back. “Fine, you want to fuckin’ involve her, you go ahead. But if this comes back on the club, you fuckin’ deal with it.”
He turns and walks out, his shoulders tensed with rage. The front door just about rattles off its hinges when he slams it. Cohen looks over to me, and says, “Get your shit. I’ll show you the fuckin’ car.”
He’s angry.
They’re all angry.
I don’t care.
I really don’t.
Because I’m angry too.
God, am I angry.
~*~*~*~
IT’S DARK WHEN WE ARRIVE at the location they found Magnolia’s car. Armed with flashlights, Cohen, Mykel and I get out and I rush over to the car immediately. I’m no detective, not by a long shot, but I’m certain that I can do a better job at looking for some sort of clue then they can. Considering they’re not in it to find her, they’re in it to make sure their asses are covered if something goes wrong.
Mykel unlocks the car door and the interior light comes on, allowing me to see a little better. The first thing I notice is that Magnolia’s purse is sitting in the center console, seemingly opened with her identification showing. Like she’s opened it to show someone. That right away seems odd to me. I mean, if she was driving down this road, alone, why would she need to open her purse to that particular point. Her phone is gone, Mykel told me they took it when they found the car.
The second thing that immediately stands out to me is the fact that the keys were still in the car, along with the phone. If someone wanted to make Magnolia disappear, why wouldn’t you take the whole car? All her identification? No, I’m starting to think that whoever left this stuff here, wanted someone to find it, possibly the club. Maybe they’re hoping to leave a trail of clues for some reason. It just seems odd they’d leave all of that.
It also tells me it didn’t happen too long before the guys found the car, because nobody had raided it. A car on the side of the road, abandoned with keys and phone and a purse would quickly get raided by people stopping to check on it if it had been there for a few days or more. They could have likely been not far behind it, to be honest.
I shine the flashlight around, and check for some other clues. Look, I’ve watched a lot of crime shows and one thing I’ve learned, is some of the most obvious things hold the biggest clues. I see the blood they’re talking about, on the driver’s seat, but the location of the blood is strange. It’s on the side of the chair, like someone had leaned in bleeding and grabbed the chair. There is also some on the steering wheel, again closest to the window, like someone has grabbed that also.
I’m not sure it’s Magnolia’s blood.
I step outside of the car and shine the light on the outside of the door and sure enough, on the handle there is blood. Whoever took her was bleeding and has managed to get their own blood on the inside and outside of the car. Other than that, there seems to be no sign of a struggle. There is nothing flicked off the dash, or things disheveled in the car, the dirt around the car isn’t smoothed out or roughed up to indicate someone has been scuffling around in it.
I keep moving through the car, searching the back seat where I find a bag of clothes. I open it to see it’s Magnolia’s. Freshly packed, if I were to guess. Everything is neatly placed in, and not all over the place like she’s been returning from a trip and has stuffed it all in there. A keyring dangles off the side of the bag, and on that keyring I notice a room key. One of those little tabs they use now to unlock a door to a hotel or motel room.
I take it off and shove it in my pocket before moving to the trunk. Mykel, who is quiet, pops it for me and I quickly get to work checking things out in there. Obviously, the drugs in the back are now gone, and it seems rather tidy. Nothing more than a spare tire and a few old picnic blankets. I close it and then go around to the passenger side of the car, opening the glove compartment and searching for anything in there that might indicate where Magnolia is, or has been.
There are a few letters addressed to her, and I notice they have a few different addresses, so I take them out, noting that I’m going to have a look at where those addresses are. There isn’t a great deal else, except a piece of paper with the name Dax on it and a phone number. I take that, too. Then I tell Mykel I’m done and get back into the truck.
On the drive home, I go over everything I just saw, and randomly start blurting out my theories to whoever is listening. I’m not entirely sure they are listening at first, but I talk anyway, mostly to get my thoughts out loud so they’re not running through my head. “It wasn’t her blood,” I begin. “That blood was on the outside of the car, on the handle. Whoever stopped her must have had a bleeding hand for whatever reason. It’s a fair amount of blood which makes me think they were hurt. Why, I don’t know. The blood was on the side of the seat and the steering wheel. So when whoever it was leaned in, they’ve transferred it over.”
I take a breath and go over the other thoughts in my head.
“Her purse was open to her license and registration. Whoever pulled her over, she possibly thought she was getting pulled over by a cop because she had that ready to show. There were no signs of a struggle getting her out of the car, so she’s gotten out willingly, again, maybe the person was acting like a cop. I’m guessing it was dark and she didn’t see the blood, which makes sense. She wouldn’t unless it was right in front of her.”
I purse my lips, my mind going a million miles an hour. “It makes sense, because she would have gotten out, and all they would have had to do was hit her over the head or knock her unconscious in some way and carry her off, which explains why there are no signs of a struggle outside the car. Is it possible the person she’s dealing with is someone she knows, someone acting like a cop, or even a dirty cop? I think anything is possible here, but one thing is for sure, she wasn’t scared when she got pulled up. That tells me a whole lot more than if there had been a struggle.”
“Jesus,” Cohen mumbles, “you should have been a fuckin’ detective.”
I snort. “I’m just very observant. I also like crime shows. Real life ones, you know? They tell you a lot, and they give you a lot of things to look for that you probably wouldn’t look for any other time. I’m just trying to piece together what might have happened to Mags, because if I don’t, it could be too late by the time we work this out.”
“Well,” Cohen says, his voice rather impressed, “you’ve got me thinkin’ that’s for sure. What I’m thinkin’ about is that there have been rumors of a dirty cop. The people we deal to have been sayin’ to watch out for it, that there is supposed to be one in the mix who is dealin’ with some pretty bad folks. I might just have to look further into that.”
I smile. “See, you wouldn’t have if I didn’t bring out my incredibly smart brain.”
Mykel chuckles. “Gotta admit, I’m pretty impressed.”
“Well, you should be,” I grin. “I’m pretty impressive. Oh, I also found a hotel/motel key on her bag in the back. You know the little tabs you open the doors with. Let me see if it’s got the hotel name on it.”
I reach into my pocket and pull the tab out and then use the flashlight to shine it over the little plastic square. I see a room number on the back but no hotel name. I purse my lips and hand it to Mykel and say, “Have you seen a key like this?”
He takes it from me and studies it for a moment, then murmurs, “Fuck yep. It’s for The Inn. New rooms out back. Stayed there a few times with women, pretty sure that’s the key.”
“Any chance you guys feel like going to The Inn tonight?”
Cohen shrugs. “Why the fuck not, you’ve got me curious now.”
I slap my hands on my thighs and say, “We’re the great detectives! Fuck the biker clubs. We should make our own club!”
Mykel snorts. “Loser.”
I giggle. “You love me.”
“One thing’s for sure,” he chuckles. “Life wouldn’t be the same without you, kid.”
I grin.
Bring it on.