Something I wouldn’t understand the necessity of until I was in medical school and realized the severity of just how rare my blood was.
I continued to donate all the way through my prison sentence, too.
Now, I was technically dead, but that didn’t mean that I wanted to stop helping people.
As a doctor, I was always going to want to help people. Even if I had to do it in a different way now.
A quieter, don’t tell anyone ever, kind of way.
What were the odds that I’d meet that little girl I’ve been helping? Or run into said child’s mother at jury duty two hours away and have her instantly hate me?
Speaking of hate…
My mouth opened and I asked for details that I probably didn’t need about Constance.
“Tell me everything you know about her,” I urged.
“Well, would you like the heavy stuff? The non-heavy stuff? The illegal stuff? Or the stuff that ties her to that dog fighting ring a few weeks ago?”
I froze. “She was a part of that?”
“No,” Apollo immediately answered. “She wasn’t. But her ex was.”
“Wasn’t that a Dixie Warden from Alabama?” I asked for confirmation.
“Was, yes.”
A few weeks ago, Denver, our club president, had come to all of us to help find his woman. Though, they hadn’t officially been dating each other at the time. Holly had only been living in Denver’s barn apartment.
Denver had ended up finding her at a dog fighting ring where she’d been held hostage. Holly had gone to the man’s place in an official capacity as a veterinarian to help take care of an injured dog.
The man, who happened to be on the city council for Bear Pass, had decided that it would be best to have a permanent person that could help patch his injured dogs up so they could live to fight another day.
While there, Holly saw a member of the Dixie Wardens there.
Though, after doing some digging using the national club president for the Dixie Wardens, Silas Mackenzie, and Apollo, they’d found out that the man that Holly had seen hadn’t been a Montana Dixie Warden, but a disgraced Dixie Warden from Tuscaloosa. Though, Silas had only found out it was Errol because he’d been stupid enough to use his credit cards here.
The Tuscaloosa Chapter hadn’t seen Errol for damn near six months, though.
Now, it made sense that he’d followed Constance here.
The man, Errol Fuller, was an ex-CIA member who knew how to hide, and he’d been doing just that for the last couple of weeks.
“So he came here because of her?” I asked.
“According to the shit I’ve been able to dig up, Errol and Constance went on one singular date. Constance never went on another with him. Even more tricky, Constance had a baby by Errol’s best friend, Mackey Jones. Errol is responsible for beating Mackey so badly that he’s now wheelchair bound. He’s also got the cognitive ability of an eleven-year-old, and has no capacity to take care of himself, let alone his own child.”
“Was Errol charged?” I asked.
“For hurting Mackey? Yes. There was no way of getting that kind of information covered up. Errol did it publicly. But it was said to be a ‘crime of passion’ and his sentence was greatly reduced. The Dixie Wardens Tuscaloosa Chapter excommunicated him and took his patch. He served community service, was sentenced to anger management classes for several years, and put on parole for two years.”
“That’s it?” I laughed.
What a joke.
How did these fucking people get away with practical murder and not have to see the inside of a jail cell?
Seriously, there was a reason I’d done what I did.
