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She nodded and stood when I did. “Just out of curiosity, what are people lying to you about?”
I thought about the conversation I’d overheard between Sadie and Thomas about Bonnie and Mueller’s murder. It wasn’t much, but she seemed to know more about the murders than the cops and the news anchors, but she hadn’t seen fit to share with everyone.
“What aren’t they lying about? I think Kat has been lying to me about my sister.”
“Why would she do that?”
I wasn’t a fool. I knew there was still some bad blood between the families, and even though I was questioning my own loyalty to the Ashby’s, I’d never sell them out.
I shrugged off Savannah’s question. “The same reasons people lie. To get what they want. I just need to find my sister, and Mueller, apparently, had all the details.”
A fact that still managed to turn my stomach when I thought about it, which I did. Constantly.
“I wish you luck, Madison. And let me offer you a piece of advice, accept it or don’t.”
When it was clear she had my attention, she spoke, slowly and deliberately. “No matter how good to you the Ashby’s have been, you’re not family. Don’t fool yourself into believing their kindness, or their open arms, means you’re family. You’re like family, but that’s not the same thing.”
That had already become crystal clear to me, so I nodded. “Thanks, Savannah Rhymer.”
“It’s O’Connor now, or can’t you read?”
“The jury is still out on that one.”
Her laughter followed me out of the office and into the elevator. Alone inside the metal box, I allowed myself a moment of weakness as I thought of what I had to do.
Find Molly on my own.
CHAPTER SIX
Jameson
The first thing I did when I woke up was check my phone, hoping to see a missed call or a check-in text from Madison. She hadn’t responded to any of my attempts to reach out to her over the weekend.
Now, I was worried. I mean, what the fuck happened to Bonnie and Mueller? Why the hell were they even in the same hotel room together? Was Madison all right? This all had to be a big shock to her, even though she and Bonnie weren’t all that close.
Jameson: Where are you?
I sent one final text before stepping into my gray sweats for my pre-shift run. I knew time wouldn’t always allow me this luxury, so I wanted to take advantage of it as much as I could before the job got crazy.
Most of my run was occupied with thoughts of Madison, but I couldn’t help but think of the double murder. I wondered why the FBI was already involved.
Based on the available information, it seemed to be a local matter that should be overseen by the Glitz PD. Something fucky was definitely going on, and as the low man on the totem pole, I was in no position to find out what or investigate it.
In time, I reminded myself.
After finishing my five miles, I made my way home and to the shower to get ready for my third week as a patrol officer trainee. The first two weeks had gone well, and I learned a lot from Jenkins, mostly that I wanted to be the kind of officer he was, the kind who gave a damn and tried to make people’s lives better, not worse.
As soon as I clocked in, Sarge called me into his office. Anxiety kicked in as I wondered what I’d done to draw his attention so soon. Or worse, had something happened over the weekend with the Reckless Bastards that he’d hold me to account for? I knocked, standing at his door like a scared kid getting called to the principal’s office. And I didn’t like it. At all.
He looked up with an expression that was a mix between smile and a scowl. “Ellison, come in. Have a seat.”
I sat on the edge of the seat, spine erect, and waited impatiently for the hammer to fall. Jenkins had given me a good write-up last week, so I had no clue why I was here. All I could do was wait. I fucking hated waiting.
Finally, Sarge looked up and grinned as he leaned back in his seat. I took his relaxed posture as a good sign but didn’t move from the edge of my seat.
“Ellison, why do you want to be a cop?”
“Sir?” This again? It wasn’t the first time I’d been asked the question, and I doubted it would be the last.
“Why do you want to be a cop? Your whole family, and your friends are part of a motorcycle gang. Why aren’t you a part of that gang?”
It was just as Jenkins had warned me it would be—the constant doubt. The mention of my family and, by default, the Reckless Bastards.
I stammered a bit, hoping it wasn’t a trap. “I love my family, and I’m a Harley enthusiast, but we all get to choose what we do in this life, don’t we, sir?”
