Burnt Rubber: Adults Only Motorcycle Club Romance: Roadrunners MC (16 page)

“You know these can’t be used as evidence,” Detective Allan pointed out. “Digital photography and computers allow pretty much anything to be mocked up these days. You found these in a Roadrunners’ safe house? Any competent lawyer would get these thrown out as inadmissible. You were suspicious of the evidence of the murder weapon being found at the scene, so I assume you are just as suspicious that these photographs could be a set up.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” Angela replied. “But I don’t think the images were captured on a digital camera.”

“What makes you say that?” Detective Allan queried.

“Because there was a room in the safe house that smelled like a chemical factory,” she said. “At first I thought it might be something to do with making drugs, but after finding the prints I’m sure it was more likely used as an improvised darkroom.”

“Then there’s a chance that we can verify the prints if we get the negatives,” Detective Allan said. “A specialist should be able to identify if they have been tampered with in any way. If they aren’t… well, they can be pretty damning evidence.”

“Then we need to find those negatives,” she said.

“Who else knows about the prints?”

“No one,” Angela replied. “I found them less than an hour ago and you’re the only one I’ve spoken to about them. It’s best that we keep it that way for the moment.”

“I was thinking the same,” Detective Allan said. “We don’t want news of this getting out until we find those negatives and know for sure that the prints are genuine.”

“Well, we have the starting point for hunting them down,” Angela said.

“The
Bay Republic Newspaper
,” he commented as he stared at the name on the print.

“The
Bay Republic
,” Angela agreed and looked at her watch. “It’s just after eight, so if I set off now I should get to the city around seven this evening.”

“I’ll find out who is best to talk to and set something up,” Detective Allan told her. “Just meet me at the precinct with all those prints.”

“OK,” she said and hung up.

It appeared that she’d acquired a partner, and she went to pay for the use of the photocopier and fax then left the library for what was going to be another long drive.

“So what the hell are we going to do now?” Crash asked.

“Safe houses are out,” Carrie replied, and everyone looked at her.

She was just saying the words they all knew were true. They got fortunate that morning when they fled the house in Mossyrock. If Carrie hadn’t gone to the store, they might have been none the wiser to the approach of what they were sure was a federal agent, and who knows what might have happened then. The fact that they were found so quickly and easily meant they couldn’t risk running to any of the other safe houses in the area. They might already be known about and under surveillance.

Six had led the way on the Harley to escape being captured that morning and they’d headed northwest towards the coastline. As far as they could tell, they weren’t being followed, but their nerves were still shredded by the close call and they kept driving in an attempt to put as much distance as they could between themselves and any pursuers.

It was just after noon when they came to a small town and made the decision to stop. They found an out of the way bar to hunker down in and sat in a corner booth with a view of the door. Six’s eyes flicked to it every time it opened, but so far no one walked in that made him suspicious. He began to relax a little that they weren’t followed on their drive, but his mind was working overtime about what they should do.

“Yeah, safe houses are a bad idea,” he said in reply to Carrie’s comment. “We need to stay away from anywhere familiar now. If the Feds knew about the place in Mossyrock, then the
y—
and the Mo
b—
could have details of other places.”

“So… what the hell do we do?” Crash repeated. “We can’t just keep running and hope they don’t catch up.”

“We need to find out what happened with those prints,” Marion said.

“How are we going to do that?” Crash went on.

Marion didn’t really have an answer for that and fell silent.

“I think we’re safe here for the time being,” Six said. “I would say the best bet is to find out if this place has rooms and just hole up for the rest of the day. There’s no point in just keeping driving.”

“I guess,” Crash agreed. “I’ll go and check.”

They watched as he got up and walked across to speak to the woman standing behind the serving counter. He was gone for less than a minute and shook his head when he returned. They only have a couple of rooms upstairs and both are already in use.

“Then we just stay here for the afternoon,” Six said. “We can make a move when it gets dark and find a cheap place to stay.”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table and the conversation died away as they sat nursing their beers. The next few hours passed slowly as they waited. The place was quiet, so Crash and Six got up to play some pool at the table in the corner of the room.

“You seem to be getting on well with Crash,” Marion said when she was sitting alone with Carrie.

“I’ve convinced him that I’m the one for him,” the younger woman said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard,” Marion went on and smiled.

“Look who’s talking,” Carrie shot back. “Crash and I weren’t the only couple banging the headboard against the wall.”

The swell of red heat spread across Marion’s face.

“You heard us last night?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” Carrie replied and giggled. “It really got Crash going, so I have to thank you for that.”

“Shit,” Marion let out under her breath and saw she was under close scrutiny. “What?” she exclaimed after a few seconds of silence.

“Just checking,” Carrie said and a wide smile broke across her face.

“Checking what?” Marion asked when she didn’t understand the comment.

“That it’s the same woman who told me that falling in love with a Roadrunner wasn’t a clever move.”

“I’m not falling…” Marion started, but her words ended when she saw the skeptical expression on Carrie’s face.

In truth, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling for Six. It was way too early to say it was love, but she certainly liked him. She was coming to like him a lot. The fact that he was a Roadrunner criminal didn’t exactly sit right with her, but she knew there was a lot more to him than just that.

“You’re not falling in love?” Carrie finished Marion’s comment with a smirk.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

“He’s a good man,” Carrie went on.

“He’s a Roadrunner,” Marion replied.

Carrie’s retort was instantaneous.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a good man. He’s looking out for you and I don’t think he would let anything happen to you if he could help it.”

Marion let out a long sigh as she stared across the table.

“I know that,” she said. “But a Roadrunner life isn’t exactly something I aspire to.”

“So, show him how much you love him and get him away from that life,” Carrie told her. “That’s my plan for Crash.”

“Yeah, but that’s…”

She stopped talking when she saw the two men returning to the table.

“It’s starting to get dark,” Six said. “I think we should make a move and find somewhere to stay for the night.”

The two girls nodded their heads and got up to follow the men out of the door. Marion was getting used to riding the bike now and didn’t think twice about putting on the helmet and getting on behind Six. He fired the engine up, brought up the kickstand and set off towards the parking lot exit. Crash and Carrie followed in the truck and they headed out of town on the main highway to look for a motel.

It was around twenty-five minutes before they saw the sign for one and Six brought the Harley to a stop at the entrance. Crash parked right behind them and wound down the window of the truck.

“Do you want me to go in?” he shouted.

Six turned to look to him, shook his head, and then brought his attention to Marion.

“Just wait here,” he told her, and she nodded her head.

She watched as he walked up to the door of the main building and disappeared inside. A few minutes later he reappeared and walked towards them. The window of the truck was still open, so he tossed one of the keys to Crash.

“We’re in Room 6,” he said to Marion as he remounted the motorbike.

She got on behind him and they made their way the short distance to the rooms. They needed to park in front of the building, which left the vehicles in view of the road. Six made Crash position the truck so the Harley wasn’t so visible to anyone passing by.

“Not perfect,” Six said when they moved towards the doors.

“We’re miles from any of the safe houses,” Crash pointed out. “It’s unlikely anyone will come this way.”

“Yeah,” Six went on in an unconvinced tone. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

He and Marion walked in their room and looked around.

“You can shower first,” she told him and walked across to sit on the bed.

She picked up the remote from the bedside table to switch on the television and started flicking through the channels.

“Looking for a good show?” Six asked as he began to undress.

“I just want to see if anything is being reported about Jake Fiori,” she said.

“Don’t get your hopes up or anything…” he replied as he headed towards the bathroom.

When he was finished showering, he watched as she got to her feet to pace in front of the television. After he pulled on his shirt, he got up to follow her out of the cubicle and they dried each other before returning to the bedroom. The television was still on, but it wasn’t the sound of the news that caught their attention. They both looked to the bedside table where Marion’s phone was ringing.

“Shit,” she let out. “I forgot to switch it off after checking to see if anyone tried to get in touch with me.”

“Well… it looks like someone is,” Six replied as they stared at each other.

Harold wiped his hands on his pants and cursed the clammy sensation that just wouldn’t go away. Soon it would be time for his meeting with the police. The detective that phoned him that afternoon wouldn’t discuss what he wanted over the phone, and that raised his suspicions that it was something to do with Marion. There was no way of knowing for sure and it wasn’t as if it was the first occasion a policeman wanted to see him for a chat. However, the timing made it likely that the matter to be discussed was the young photographer and the situation she found herself in. He considered phoning her, but guessed that the police might be listening in if he did and in the end decided not to.

When the knock on his door came, he got to his feet and tried to compose himself as best he could before walking out of the lounge and going to let the officer in. He was slightly surprised to see two people standing there, but didn’t let it show.

“Mr. Taylor?” the man queried.

“Yes,” Harold replied.

“I’m Detective Allan,” the man went on. “We spoke this afternoon.”

“Yes,” Harold went on. “Please come in.”

“This is Special Agent Dickinson,” Detective Allan said as he stepped forward.

Harold nodded at the small, serious looking woman that walked past him and got a similar greeting in return. He closed the door then led the way to the lounge where they sat down.

“Mr. Taylor, I…”

“Please call me Harold,” he interrupted Detective Allan. “No need to be formal. Now how can I help?”

“As you wish,” the detective went on. “How much do you know about the murder of a drug dealer a couple of days ago?”

It was the clincher and there was now no doubt that the reason they were there was something to do with Marion.

“I’m sure you already know our paper has published a couple of stories,” he replied. “They were along the lines of another Roadrunner atrocity in the city and that’s as much as I know.”

“So… you weren’t aware of these then?” Detective Allan said. He leaned forward towards the coffee table and laid out the prints that Angela found that morning.

Harold’s eyes opened wide when he looked down at them. There was no doubt they were the photographs Marion spoke of and they clearly showed Jake Fiori in the act of killing someone.

“Where did you get these?” he asked when he looked up.

“In a Roadrunner safe house north of here this morning,” Angela said.

“She hooked up with them,” Harold let out.

“You obviously know more about this than you’re letting on,” Detective Allan said. “Who hooked up with the Roadrunners? Do you know who took these photos?”

Harold tightened his lips and let out a sigh when he settled back in his armchair.

“Yes… I know who it was,” he said. “She’s a photographer who works for the paper. Her name is Marion Thomas.”

“And how exactly do you know about the photographs?” Angela asked.

“Because Marion told me about them,” he replied.

“You sent her to take them?” Detective Allan asked.

“No,” Harold replied. “We were planning a story about the seedier aspects of the city. It was about the ease with which drugs, prostitutes and illegal gambling are available. Marion was just meant to get some night shots to go with the story. She stumbled across something she shouldn’t have.”

“You’ve spoken to her?” Angela asked.

“She called me on the night it happened,” Harold went on. “She saw the murder and got those pictures. Fiori’s men caught her, but she managed to escape and was in a panic about what to do.”

“Why didn’t you tell her to go to the police?” Angela queried.

Harold couldn’t keep the skeptical expression from his face.

“This is the Mob we’re talking about,” he replied. “Marion worked out herself that going to the police wasn’t the smart move.”

“We could have helped and protected her,” Detective Allan said.

“Look, my paper has done stories of the Mob influence on the police,” Harold responded. “She wasn’t about to turn herself in and I wasn’t about to tell her to.”

“What did you do?” Angela asked.

“Set up a meeting with a member of the Roadrunners,” Harold admitted. “I guessed that if anyone could keep her safe, it was them. If you have those photos, then I guess I was right. They must have got her the equipment to develop the film she was holding.”

“They did,” Angela said. “The house I was in this morning was filled with equipment that was obviously used.”

“No sign of her?” Harold asked.

“No,” Angela replied. “There was no one there when I arrived. Now we need to find her. These prints are a start to showing Jake Fiori’s guilt, but they’re not good enough.”

Harold understood what she was talking about.

“You need the negatives,” he replied and Angela nodded her head.

“Prints can be altered to show whatever is needed and a good lawyer would get them thrown out of court,” she said. “Negatives that a specialist has examined and verified haven’t been tampered with are a different thing.”

Harold let out another sigh as he stared across the table at the two people sitting opposite him.

“What guarantee is there that she’ll be safe?”

“I’m a federal special agent,” Angela replied. “And I’ll vouch for the integrity of Detective Allan. We are the only two that know anything about this and we’ll keep it that way until Marion comes in and hands over the negatives. I’ll speak to my bosses about me being the one that looks after her until it gets to court. Her testimony will be needed as well to put Jake Fiori away.”

Harold continued to stare across the table, but he said nothing in reply.

“What’s the alternative?” Angela went on. “If Jake and his men caught her that night, then I assume they know who she is. Jacob Fiori isn’t going to just walk away from this when there’s a danger his son could be brought down. The Mob will hunt her until she’s no longer a threat to them.”

Harold knew it was true. Marion going to the Roadrunners as a short term move to avoid being caught and killed was the sensible option. That didn’t really work longer term if she wanted to return to her normal life.

“What do you want me to do?” he eventually asked.

“You must have a way to get in touch with her,” Angela said.

“She probably isn’t using her phone,” he replied. “She was smart enough to call me from a public payphone.”

“Just try,” Detective Allan encouraged him.

Harold got his phone from his pocket and searched through the address book for the number he wanted and brought it up on the screen. He made the call and was surprised when the ringing started although didn’t expect it to be picked up. The slight shock showed on his face when it was and he sat forward in his seat.

“Marion?” he said and saw the interest of the two people opposite him.

“It’s me, Harold,” she replied.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“It’s better I don’t say,” she replied. “I’m safe for the moment, but not sure how long that will last. Why are you calling?”

“I’m looking at your pictures,” he said.

The news stunned her and she was silent for a few seconds as she stared at Six.

“You must have the Feds with you then,” she eventually let out. “That short woman?”

Harold glanced at Special Agent Dickinson when he answered.

“Yes, she is,” he said. “I take it you saw her.”

“We were still in the house this morning when she arrived, but one of the Roadrunners spotted her and we got out before she made her move. We left her a gift though.”

“Yeah,” Harold said. “She got your gift. The prints are sitting on my coffee table right now.”

“I guess leaving
Bay Republic
on them was a giveaway,” Marion said. “What does she want?”

“For you to come in,” he replied. “The negatives and your testimony will be needed to put Jake Fiori away. The prints on their own aren’t good enough, because of the way they can be doctored these days.”

“Shit,” Marion cursed then went silent.

Harold saw Special Agent Dickinson trying to get his attention and put a hand over the mouthpiece of his phone.

“Ask her if she’s with Andy Carter,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because he’s the one accused of the drug dealer’s murder,” Angela went on. “The evidence Marion has would get him off the hook.”

Harold nodded his head and moved his hand from the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Are you still there?” he asked Marion.

“Yes.”

“Are you with someone called Andy Carter?” Harold went on.

“Yes,” she replied as she looked at Six.

“Your photos and knowledge can save him from a murder rap,” Harold said.

“I know that,” Marion pointed out. “What do you think I should do?”

“The two people sitting in my apartment assure me they are the only ones that know anything about the prints,” Harold said.

“Are they both Feds?” Marion asked.

“One Fed and the local detective in charge of the murder,” Harold informed her. “I think you should come in. The Roadrunners were a smart way to get out of the city and stay alive, but you can’t stay with them forever. The Mob probably won’t give up until you’re silenced, and running forever isn’t really an option if you want your life to return to normal.”

“Yeah,” Marion said in a resigned tone. “Keep your phone on. I’ll call you.”

She hung up and looked at Six.

“So…?” he encouraged her.

“Carrie was right this morning,” Marion replied. “That woman was an FBI special agent and she got the prints. She’s at my boss’s apartment with the man in charge of the murder case. They want me to go in.”

“Not smart,” he replied.

“Maybe,” she went on. “But the prints aren’t enough. This doesn’t end unless they get the negatives and me. That would be enough to get Jake Fiori put away and off our backs. If I don’t go in, then we’ll be running from the police and the Mob forever.”

Six was quiet as he weighed up the options, but he could see there weren’t really any.

“Fuck,” he cursed in a loud voice.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Marion said and dialed her boss’s number.