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Luke pulled out his phone and set it to record the conversation and then put it on the table.
“This is Mr. Buchanan.” Sheriff Dans pointed to the suit who was with him. More hands were shaken.
“He’s ours,” Luke said. “And coming home with us.”
“It’s not quite that simple. Nixon’s father is still alive, and there is no proof to suggest that either of his parents wishes you to be his legal guardians. In order for a sibling to obtain custody rights, they would have to prove to a court that his parent was unfit or incapable in some way of caring for him. His father will be required to state that he has no wish to have custody over the child.”
Luke took out the letter he’d folded and stuffed into his pocket and handed it to the man. “Read that.”
The man looked at Luke, and then took the letter and began to read it.
“Anyone could have written this. It is not legal.”
“Look, Mr. Buchanan,” Joe said. “We were abandoned by the woman who wrote that letter. Now I know we need to do some DNA tests, but one look at Nixon and you can see he carries the same blood as us. Do you want him to go into the system while you track down his father who, from what I gather, is part of a motorcycle club that has ties to drugs, crime, and several other unsavory things?”
“I can’t just let you take him. There’s a process. His father is still alive, and as such he will have to state he is willing to give up custody of Nixon to you, his brothers. If you are indeed his brothers. Or he would need to be proven unfit to care for the boy.”
“Well hell, let’s face it, the absolute best and most caring environment for a scared fourteen-year-old has to be a motorcycle club,” Jack said.
“Genetics don’t lie,” Luke said.
“I can help with that process, Lou,” Sheriff Dans said. “I had a long talk to the Ryker Falls Chief of Police. Told me these three are well respected in their community. Luke is a firefighter, Joe a business owner in town, and Jack runs a ranch. They have family and friends, and he couldn’t speak highly enough of them. For now until the court stuff is sorted, these boys could watch over Nixon.”
“He can stay in state care. We don’t know these people.”
“There aren’t a whole shit ton of kids in state care being mistreated, after all,” Jack muttered.
The roar of motorcycles had Luke tensing. Especially as they were pulling up outside the police station. Sheriff Dans looked out the window.
“They’re Bandits,” he said. “My guess is they know what’s happened to Nixon’s mother now.”
“Looks like it’s time to meet Nixon’s daddy.” Luke got to his feet. Seconds later he was heading out the door with the others on his heels. Stepping into the cool fall air, he looked for Dylan and Nixon but found no sign of them. Quinn either.
Four bikes were straddled by a black-leather-clad men. One of them got off and walked forward.
“Grill,” Sheriff Dans said.
“How did she die?” the man demanded. About Luke’s height, he had a thick beard and wore wraparound dark glasses. “I want fucking answers now!”
“Shot in the chest, and you need to calm down.”
“Who?” Grill moved closer to the sheriff.
“You’d probably know more about that than me,” the sheriff said.
“I didn’t kill her.” The man looked intimidating, which Luke was sure was the point.
“No enemies that may want to get at you through your woman, Grill?”
“We all have enemies, Sherriff Dans. But none are brave enough to come at me.”
“I will be investigating who killed Claire Redden, Grill. So any information you come across I want.”
“Where’s Nixon?” Grill demanded.
“With Child Protective Services.”
“He can stay with them. I don’t want him.”
