Caleb sat in the dark for a long time holding the leather roll listening to the desert wind rattle his trailer's thin walls. On the table his phone buzzed. A text from Rosa, the paramedic. He's alive, barely. I see you at county.
Asking for you. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Then another text. Don't come. Dalton's here watching his room.
Caleb's blood ran cold. He texted back, Is Arthur conscious? In and out. Keeps saying the kid has it. Dalton heard.
The phone nearly slipped from Caleb's bloody fingers. Dalton knew. Of course he knew. Arthur had probably been delirious talking in his medicated haze, and Dalton had been right there to hear every word. A third text, get out of town now.
Caleb looked around his trailer at the stained carpet, the crooked cabinets, the life that had never felt like much, but had been his. Where would he even go? He had $300 in the bank and a truck that burned oil. He was still sitting there paralyzed by indecision when headlights swept across his window. Not the high beams of a semi or the paired lights of a car.
A single headlight, motorcycle. Then another, and another. Caleb moved to the window peering through the gap in the curtains and his heart stopped. They came in a line slow and deliberate, engines rumbling like distant thunder. Big bikes, Harleys mostly, and every single rider wore the same patch Arthur had, Hells Angels.
Five of them, then 10, then 20. They circled the auto shop, headlights cutting through the darkness, and Caleb understood with absolute certainty that Vernon had been right about one thing, he'd chosen a side the moment he'd pressed his shirt against Arthur's wound.
The bikes stopped, engines idling, surrounding his trailer in a loose circle. Caleb's hand found the leather roll, instinctively clutching it tight. A single rider dismounted, a mountain of a man taller even than Arthur had been, with a gray beard that reached his chest and eyes that caught the moonlight like a wolf's. He walked to Caleb's door and knocked. Three slow, heavy blows.
Caleb Hayes? The voice was deep, patient, not threatening, but not warm, either. We need to talk about Arthur. Caleb's throat was dry. He's alive at county hospital.
We know. We also know you saved his life. A pause. And we know you have something that belongs to us. I don't know what don't The word was sharp as a blade.
Don't insult us both with lies, son. Arthur told us what he gave you. We want it back.
Caleb looked at the leather roll in his hands. Everything, evidence of everything. Enough to bring down a corrupt sheriff and whoever else was involved in this. Enough to get him killed. If I give it to you, Caleb called through the door, what happens to Dalton?
Silence. Then a low chuckle. You think we're going to let the man who tried to kill our brother just walk away? I think I don't know who you are or what you're going to do. Fair enough.
The man's voice was closer now, right against the door. My name's Clutch. I'm the road captain for the Arizona charter. Arthur's been my brother for 23 years. And when someone tries to kill one of us, we don't call the cops.