Chapter 2: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
The motorcycle engine continued running.
A deep, uneven rumble echoed between the trees.
Every biker turned toward the sound.
The old blue Harley stood near the edge of the parking area, its headlight shining through the afternoon mist.
Frank Miller approached it cautiously.
"Who started that thing?""
Nobody answered.
Hank still held the photograph.
Damon watched him.
"You knew something.""
Hank didn't look up.
"Not here.""
"Not here?"" Damon repeated.
"My brother is dead, and you're telling me this isn't the place?""
"Calm down.""
"Don't tell me to calm down!""
Caleb stood beside the open metal box, staring at the bank statement.
There were dozens of transactions listed.
Each one had a date, an amount, and a handwritten set of initials.
He recognized one name.
His father's.
But the initials beside the largest withdrawals were different.
H.S.
Caleb looked up.
"Hank Sullivan.""
The older man turned.
"What?""
"Your initials are on these withdrawals.""
Hank took the paper from him.
He studied it.
"These aren't my signatures.""
Damon laughed without humor.
"Of course they aren't.""
"I'm serious.""
"Then explain why your initials are on four hundred thousand dollars of missing money!""
Hank slammed the paper against his chest.
"Because somebody used my name!""
Victor stepped forward.
"He's right.""
Damon turned sharply.
"Why are you defending him?""
"Because I saw Marcus's records. He told me someone was copying Hank's authorization codes.""
"When?""
"The night before he died.""
The words landed heavily.
Hank looked at Victor.
"You never told me that.""
Victor's expression hardened.
"I tried.""
"When?""
"At the clubhouse. Two days after Marcus's funeral.""
Hank shook his head.
"I wasn't there.""
"You were. You walked out before I could finish.""
Frank looked between them.
"Hold on. Are you saying somebody had access to the club's financial records?""
Victor nodded.
"Not just access. They had the ability to move money without triggering the usual alerts.""
Damon folded his arms.
"Who?""
Victor glanced at the photograph.
"I think Marcus was getting close to finding out.""
Hank finally looked at the picture again.
His thumb moved across the scratched-out face.
"Where did you get this, Caleb?""
"Inside the box.""
"No. I mean who took it?""
"My dad never told me.""
Hank swallowed.
"That's not possible.""
Damon grabbed his jacket.
"Start talking.""
Hank looked toward the mountains.
"Twenty-seven years ago, before the Iron Saints became what they are today, there were four of us. Me, Marcus, Victor, and Marcus's older brother, Daniel.""
Caleb frowned.
"My dad never mentioned an older brother.""
Damon's expression changed.
"Daniel?""
Hank nodded.
"He was the best rider among us. Better than Marcus. Better than me. He could take a mountain road at midnight and make it look like a Sunday drive.""
"Where is he?"" Caleb asked.
Hank stared at the photograph.
"He died.""
Damon shook his head.
"That's what everyone told us.""
"He disappeared after a warehouse fire in 1999. We found his motorcycle. We found blood. The police declared him dead.""
"Was there a body?"" Caleb asked.
Hank said nothing.
Caleb looked at Victor.
"You said one of us isn't dead.""
Victor nodded.
"Daniel Reed.""
Damon took a step toward him.
"You're telling me my brother had another brother nobody ever talked about?""
"Your father knew," Hank replied.
"Then why didn't he tell us?""
Hank's eyes remained fixed on the photograph.
"Because he believed Daniel was responsible for the fire.""
Caleb looked confused.
"What happened in the fire?""
Victor answered.
"Twenty-seven years ago, the Iron Saints were keeping money and records inside an old warehouse outside Knoxville. Somebody set it on fire. The place burned to the ground. Daniel disappeared that night.""
"How much money?"" Damon asked.
"About eighty thousand dollars.""
"That's it?""
"At the time, it was everything we had.""
Damon pointed at the bank statement.
"And now four hundred thousand is missing.""
Victor nodded.
"Exactly.""
A gust of wind moved through the roadside flowers.
Hank finally spoke.
"Marcus started asking questions about Daniel six months ago. He believed the old warehouse fire and the missing family money were connected.""
"Connected how?"" Caleb asked.
"I don't know.""
Victor looked at him.
"Your father found something. He called me the night before the crash and said he'd discovered a name.""
"What name?""
Victor hesitated.
"Someone who was supposed to have died in that fire.""
Caleb looked at the scratched photograph again.
"Who?""
Before Victor could answer, a car appeared on the mountain road.
A dark SUV.
It slowed as it approached the group.
The driver didn't wave.
Didn't stop.
Instead, the passenger window lowered.
A small black object flew out.
It landed on the asphalt and bounced near Caleb's feet.
The SUV accelerated.
Damon ran after it for several steps.
"HEY!""
The vehicle disappeared around the bend.
Caleb crouched.
It was a mobile phone.
An old model with a cracked screen.
The screen suddenly lit up.
One incoming message.
*UNKNOWN NUMBER:*
Your father made the same mistake you are making now.
Caleb's throat tightened.
A second message appeared.
Stop looking for Daniel Reed.
Then a third.
Or your mother will be next.
Caleb dropped the phone.
Damon grabbed his shoulders.
"What happened?""
Caleb pointed at the screen.
Hank read the messages.
His face went white.
"Where's your mother?""
"At home," Caleb whispered.
Damon immediately pulled out his phone.
"Call her.""
Caleb dialed.
It rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Damon started toward his truck.
"I'm going.""
Hank caught his arm.
"Take me with you.""
Damon jerked away.
"Why? So you can explain another dead family member?""
"Because whoever sent that message knows we're here.""
Victor moved toward his motorcycle.
"Then we shouldn't split up.""
Damon looked at him.
"You're not coming near my family.""
"Marcus trusted me enough to call me that night.""
"He also warned his son to run if you asked about that key!""
Victor's jaw tightened.
"Because he knew I was being watched.""
Nobody spoke.
Hank stared at him.
"By whom?""
Victor removed his helmet.
"By the same man who stole the money.""
Caleb looked up.
"Daniel?""
Victor shook his head.
"No.""
He glanced at Hank.
"Someone who was standing beside us when Daniel disappeared.""
Hank's eyes narrowed.
"Who?""
Victor looked toward the road.
Then he said quietly:
"Your father.""
Caleb blinked.
"What?""
"Marcus didn't just discover Daniel might still be alive. He discovered that somebody had been helping him for twenty-seven years.""
Damon stared at Victor.
"You're saying my brother helped a dead man?""
Victor nodded.
"And three days before the crash, Marcus told me he had finally found out why.""
Hank stepped closer.
"What did he say?""
Victor looked at Caleb.
"He said, 'If they find out what happened in 1999, they'll kill everyone who knows.''"
A phone vibrated.
This time, it was Hank's.
He looked down.
An incoming text from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
The fifteen bikers standing beside Marcus's memorial.
Taken from somewhere behind the trees.
Underneath it were six words.
*YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT THE BOX CLOSED.*
Hank slowly raised his head.
Then he noticed something.
May you like
In the photograph, there were sixteen shadows.
But only fifteen bikers were standing on the road.
