Tuck stood in the doorway. He looked tired, his face lined by a night that had probably been as long for him as it had for Cole. When Cole climbed off his motorcycle, Tuck came down the step and stopped a few paces away.
"You got my message."
"I did."
"I didn't know they were going after the woman and kid. When I understood, I tried to warn you."
"You helped them know where she was."
Tuck absorbed that without protest. "Yes. I did."
"Then stop helping them hide what happened. That's the only apology I need from you."
Tuck looked toward the building. "He's inside."
Cole passed him, entered the long unheated room, and stopped before a folding table at its center. Cain Hadley sat alone on one side, hands laid flat on the surface, a second chair positioned opposite him. Four riders stood against the walls, their faces unreadable. Cain looked older than he had three years earlier. His face still had the practiced composure of a man who understood how to make people believe he was more certain than they were.
"Sit down, Cole," Cain said.
"I'll stand."
Cain looked at Voss visible through the doorway. "You brought company."
"People who chose to come."
"That's a distinction you're fond of making."
"It matters."
Cain leaned back. "I've heard you've had an eventful night."
"Evan Rowan is alive," Cole said.
For the first time Cain's composure shifted. Not much, just a tightening at the corners of his mouth. He knew the fact, of course. What surprised him was hearing it stated without negotiation.
"I'm glad you've finally learned that," Cain replied.
"You've known for eight years."
"There's context. There were threats. Decisions were made to keep people alive."
"You made money from those decisions."
Cain looked sharply at him. "Be careful."
Cole held his gaze. "I've spent eight years being careful about a story you helped construct. I'm finished doing that." He let the silence settle.
"Darla has Evan's statement. She has the photographs. She has phone records and the letters that never reached his family. Sandra Cho is receiving everything this morning."
The room grew still. One of the riders along the wall lowered his eyes. Cain did not move his hands, but Cole saw the moment the president realized the conversation had stopped following his plan. A man could control a club meeting through rank and habit. He could not control an investigator with years of independent work and a witness who was finally speaking.
"Darla's been busy," Cain said slowly.
"She's been doing the work you should have done."
"You think this is simple? You think if I'd gone public, they'd have let Evan's family live quietly? Those men were already beyond anything I could change."
"Then you should have helped Evan find someone who could change it. Instead you threatened him and took payment for doing it."