Page 98 of Smitty

Yes, I’m okay.

It was just hard. I wasn’t expecting him. I was asleep on the sofa when

he came in. It surprised us both.

It was bad. I didn’t know what to say.

I wasn’t surprised that it was tough. She wanted to find the right words to say when there weren’t any. There was no way to do any of this without hurting Ryan, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. He was a good man. Hell, I'd only met him once, and I knew that. That somehow made all of this worse.

Me:

I’m sure you handled it the best you could.

Brooke:

Yeah, but he was pretty upset.

I was about to respond when Grim stuck his head in the bar and announced, “Conference room.”

And just like that, my phone went back into my pocket. My text would have to wait. I followed Grim down the hall, and by the time we entered the conference room, Prez and Shep were already there with Creed and Goose. Prez wasted no time and announced, “The bar came up empty… the cabin, too. Looked like nobody had been there in months.”

“Damn.”

Creed’s expression grew fierce as he announced, “He’s not hiding.”

“No,” Preacher agreed. “He’s getting ready to make his next move.”

“There has to be something we’ve missed.”

Shep stood and stepped over to his monitor, pulling up all the photographs we had collected from Raymond’s place. Some had come from Brooke, and the others were taken by Memphis and Ghost during their own walk-through of the house.

There were maps, pictures, and notes that included everything from our names to our addresses. There were even the beginnings of schedules showing our comings and goings during the week.

Nobody spoke.

We all just sat there, staring at the various pictures, hoping something would click. Minutes rolled into hours, and one by one, the other brothers started trickling in, each giving a hand at trying to find something that might help us piece this thing together.

The silence was deafening, and it only added to the tension in the room. Hell, it practically crackled around us. I was beginning to think we were wasting our time when Memphis said, “Hold up.”

“What?”

“There.” Memphis pointed to the screen. “That picture of the clubhouse… Look how it was taken.”

At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. It was just a picture. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then it hit me. It had been taken within our grounds, just beyond the back fence. There wasn’t much back there, just some trees and an old, weathered shed. But that shed could hold the answer we’d been looking for.

“Holy shit,” I muttered. “He’s been here the whole damn time.”

“I don’t know,” Memphis answered. “But it’s possible.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Creed grumbled.

“Look at the picture.” I pointed to the image that had caught our attention. “It was taken out back, and it’s blurry like it was taken through a window.”

“You thinking…” Creed shook his head at the realization. “It’s from that old shed?”

“It’s possible.”

The room went still.