I cover her body back up, saying a silent prayer for her soul.
Miss Catherine gives me a few moments then is by my side, handing me my crutches.
The old lady does not listen.
I put my gun away and take them off her. Only the dead are inside this hangar. My foot needs to rest because this doesn’t end here today. I won’t stop until I find Whisper, dead or alive, and take down the people responsible.
Santana’s life was stolen from her, and Whisper is still a question mark if she is even alive. If she is, she is still in a lot of deadly danger.
“We’ll take her body back with us. I can’t leave it here. Torque, the Lion’s Den MC’s President, will have to be contacted, and they will get her body taken care of, give her the proper respectful burial she deserves.”
These bodies should not still be here stinking up the hangar. A cleanup crew should have come and gone by now, dispensing of the bodies if they couldn’t take them on the flight and removing the car parked outside. So why have they not arrived?
“I need to check the office thoroughly because I might find something useful, another lead, because we’ve not got a lot at the moment. Wait over by the hangar door. I won’t be long.”
“No. I be comin’ with you.”
Fuck sake!
“Lady, I’m not in the mood,” I growl at her.
“Nor am I, Edge.” I’ve gotta give her credit where credit is due. The old broad is determined, for Whisper. I have to respect that.
“She be like a granddaughter to me, and nobody be tellin’ me what I can and can’t be doin’. I haven’t bowed to a man for over fifty years, so you better be gettin’ that through your head right now. No man be orderin’ me around unless I be allowin’ it.” And then she storms off toward the office, making me play catch-up.
I guess that’s settled.
The first thing I notice on closer inspection is dried blood on the dark office desk, and then the pile of clothes that have been thrown in the corner by the water cooler.
I head straight for them and check them over, recognizing them as Whisper’s. What she was wearing in the trunk. I note their condition, the bullet holes, blood, and dried vomit soiling them. She was in a bad way before she was put on that plane, mostly my fault. It doesn’t escape my notice her T-shirt has been torn apart.
What the fuck went on in here?
The last item is a pair of expensive-looking black heels. Whisper sure as shit wasn’t wearing heels, riding her bike. These would be Santana’s missing shoes.
“They are Whisper’s clothes,” Miss Catherine confirms what I already knew, swiping away the tears with shaking hands, trying to hide her emotions, trying to stay strong. “Whisper would not have willingly taken her clothes off.” She voices her fears to me.
The dried blood on the desktop doesn’t go unnoticed by Miss Catherine. We both know she must have been hurt again in here, possibly for refusing to do as she was told. I need to believe she wasn’t raped.
“My guess is they changed her for the trip in here.” Better to think positively at this point. “Or maybe they were cleaning her up?” I have to say something out loud because the silence is too much. We are both letting our minds run wild with what went down in here.
I need to give the old lady hope. This was possibly the last place Whisper spoke to Miss Catherine and she knows it.
I look across at the old lady, and guess what? She’s examining each item of Whisper’s clothing, noting the bullet hole that has gone through her leather jacket, hoodie, and T-shirt. She glares at me and I look away. The blood caked on the clothing fucking makes me feel sick because I did that to her. She was an innocent, and I became another man to add to her pain-filled existence.
I look over again, and she’s placed all the clothing down in a heap except for the leather jacket. She’s gonna take that with her; it means something to her.
Neither of us says another word while I hunt through the office and find nothing useful. It’s fucking as clean as a nun. Whisper has just up and disappeared on a private jet, and I know I won’t find out where in a hurry. A lot of money would have been used to keep it all quiet, but I will find somebody who will talk.
We have to get moving because my own nightmares threaten to invade my waking mind. The silence in here is like white noise to my ears, scratching away.
My father stole from me, and he stole too much from Whisper.
I have to find her alive.
And then I will show this bastard from Hell the devil I really can be, and I will rain my wrath down upon him.
“We need to finish up in here and leave.” I don’t know when the cleanup crew will be coming, but they can’t leave the bodies here indefinitely.
“What be her name?” Miss Catherine asks softly. I know she is asking about the dead female.
“Santana.”
“It be a beautiful name. You be knowin’ her?” The fearless old lady is now replaced with a gentle heart.
I shake my head. “I only saw her about. She was a stripper in one of the Lion’s Den MC’s clubs. She was only twenty-one. She was thinking of going back to college before she disappeared.”
She places her small hand on my shoulder. “We will find who be responsible, Edge.”
She truly believes this.
I take some photos of the evidence left behind; it may come in useful. “Come on, time is ticking. We need to get moving.” My crutches are being handed to me. I take them and tuck them under my armpits and lean on them in relief. I know I’ll be throwing them to the ground again when I put Santana’s body in the trunk, but for now, giving my injured foot a rest is welcomed. I need to be as fit as I can for Whisper.
We make it over to the hangar entrance door, stopping along the way, taking a few photos of the inside and the blood splattered floor before we exit into the late afternoon sun. The temperature has started to drop. Nightfall is looming ahead.
We’ve only made it a few feet outside when I hear heavy metal music blaring, and then a car sounds like it’s coming in fast.
“Miss Catherine, get back inside. Now!” I yell at her, just as she registers the sounds of the music, hesitating long enough for me to pull out one of my handguns I have concealed on me and hand it to her. “Safety is off and it’s loaded. Point and shoot at the bad guys if they come for you. Shut the door, and if you can lock it from the inside, do it.” I shove the crutches at her. Car keys, now!”
She hands them over, and I turn and head for the doc’s car. It’s a long dirt road concealed by trees until they make it into this open area. I may still have time. I drive the car around the farthest side of the hangar and turn it off, getting out and quietly clicking the door shut. Is this the lazy cleanup crew? It takes at least two people to get rid of three bodies. The music volume means they are just about upon us.
I’m in position, watching around the corner as the beat-up, old, gray pickup comes to a standstill in a plume of dust, music still rocking on.
I move back out of sight and listen as two doors open and the music is silenced. Two male voices are joking about. They sound like full-on rednecks. They’re now arguing over who has dibs on the female stiff. Who gets to fuck the stiff.
Motherfuckers! I bellow inside my head, my hand starting to strangle the butt of my handgun, itching to use it.
And then, to my further disgust, I hear them counting out rock, paper, and scissors. We have a winner, and he’s pretty pleased with himself as he hollers in excitement.
I peer around the corner again with my gun raised and ready. They’ve gotten out of the pickup, which is parked about thirty feet away from where I’m hidden, and make their way to the hangar door, no guns in sight.