Chapter 18
Zen
T oday’s another day, and I’m intent upon hunting the man who’s a danger to Lexi like a big-game hunter. Right now, she’s sitting at the bar with her friend, Cindy. They’re laughing it up over appletinis. I love seeing Lexi happy. It warms my soul like nothing else ever has.
I normally shut myself away in my office when I’m working, but today I need to keep an eye on Lexi. So while I hack into the non-luxury apartment complex where her stalker used to live and gather all the information I can on him, I’ve got the door propped open.
The archived information I managed to dig up turns out to be a veritable gold mine. The assumed name he used was Reggie Murphy, but he slipped up and used a credit card from a woman named Sara White to pay his first month’s rent and security deposit. The credit card has an address out in Reno. I quickly discover, by looking through that state’s DMV records, that she’s a fifty-three-year-old female.
County records show Sara White has a thirty-one-year-old son named Terrance Harris. A quick background search shows he has a long criminal record, including assault and battery, second-degree rape, and assault with a deadly weapon. He’s been in and out of jail multiple times over the years. This is definitely looking like our guy.
Glancing over to check on Lexi, I see her playing a drinking game with Cindy and a couple of the prospects. I smile because she’s having fun, relaxing, and not letting this fucker keep her scared and looking over her shoulder.
I start searching for anything I can find on Terrance Harris, and a loathing I can’t quite describe fills my very soul when I realize he took a job delivering food in Las Salinas very recently. I had a hunch about that food-delivery person when Lexi told me he tried the handle on her door after being asked to leave the food on the porch. That can’t be a coincidence. This guy’s checking off too many boxes not to be involved in stalking her. But it’s also strange, because if this guy had been stalking her for years and flying under the radar, why was he suddenly getting sloppy now and doing stuff under his real name?
I keep digging and compiling information, eventually getting a copy of his driver’s license. Sitting in my computer chair, staring at his face, anger twists in my gut. This man is nothing like what I imagined him to be. I expected to see a scrawny coward who scurried around, using deceit and weapons to get what he wanted from women. But no—this man is a muscle-bound beast clearly capable of subjugating almost any woman by virtue of his size and strength. I was always taught that men shouldn’t use their larger size to lord power over a woman, but I know all the way down to my bones that this is exactly what this man gets off on.
Suddenly, a soft, feminine voice drifts closer. “Zen, are you okay, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I glance up to see Lexi walking towards me. So, she’s been keeping an eye on me, like I was for her. Knowing that thaws my mood a bit. When she gets close, I pull her down onto my lap. “Are you having a good time with your friend?”
She nods, all smiles again. “Yeah, I’m glad you brought me here. I feel safe enough to finally relax. You and your club brothers truly are the good guys.” She cups my face in her hands and murmurs, “Now, tell me what’s up with you. You looked really out of sorts there for a minute.”
I spin my computer chair around sideways with us in it, so she doesn’t have her back to the screen. “Have you ever seen this man before?”
She stares at the screen for a long time, looking confused. “He looks familiar, but I can’t place him. Who is he?”
“His name is Terrance Harris. I think he’s the one who’s been stalking you. He worked security for the apartment complex where we found all the pictures of you. We found those comic books in his abandoned apartment. He even used to work for a food delivery company right here in Las Salinas very recently.”
She stops chewing her bottom lip long enough to ask, “You said he abandoned his apartment. Do you have any idea where he moved to?”
“No, but I’m sure as hell gonna find out. I have an address for his mother. I’m betting either he’s hiding out there, or she knows where we can find him.”
Her arms tense and slide from my face to rest against my chest. She gazes up at me with big innocent eyes and asks, “Can I come with you when you go to talk to her?”
“Absolutely not, Lexi. On the off chance that he’s there, I won’t put you within striking distance of this evil bastard.”
“What if he’s not there? She might be more willing to talk to a woman than a bunch of bikers.” She pats my chest and adds, “No insult intended.”
I can’t help but crack a smile. “None taken, Lexi.”
Pulling her into a close hug, I tuck her head under my chin and lean back in my chair. Struggling to find the words to explain how I feel, I finally say, “I’ve got every reason to believe this guy is a cold-hearted killer who’s had you in his sights for a while—he’s the one who killed your father. I’d be out of my mind to take you straight to the most likely place for him to be hiding out. This man is vicious, Lexi. It looks like he might be targeting you as his next kill. You promised not to put yourself in harm’s way. Please keep that promise. It’s the only thing keeping me sane right now.”
Lexi sighs and brings her arms up around my neck. “Alright, if that’s what you want. Just promise me that if you do go after this guy, you’ll take enough of your club brothers with you to be safe. Just like you don’t want anything to happen to me, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Trust me when I say this is a fight I plan to come back from.” When our lips touch again, I realize that I’m a goner for this woman.
***
Siege picks a relatively large crew to visit Terrance Harris’ mother first thing the next morning. The plan is for him, Rigs, and me to approach the home without our cuts. Siege points out that a woman living alone would likely be alarmed at being visited by strangers, and downright terrified if the strangers knocking at her door are bikers. So instead of riding, we’re taking one of Siege’s vehicles. Thank God it’s not the mommy van that Cleo normally drives.
It takes close to four hours to get to Reno from Las Salinas. We leave most of our club brothers behind at a diner, and we arrive at Sara White’s home around eleven in the morning. Since it’s Saturday, we hope to find her at home. Luckily, we do find her at home, but she’s three sheets to the wind already.
Sara White looks at least a decade older than her fifty-three years, but she’s clearly a woman who takes care of her appearance. She’s wearing a sweater twin set in pale blue to match her eyes and dress pants with heels. Her snow-white hair is immaculately styled, and she’s wearing pearls. The hand holding her wine glass is perfectly manicured. She’s nothing like what I expected the mother of a potential serial killer to look like.
To her credit, she’s not quite so far gone that she’s willing to invite three strange men into her home, but she does step out onto the front porch with her drink to talk with us. After introducing ourselves, Siege mentions, “We’re friends of your son, Terrance.”
Before he can get around to asking if he’s staying at her place, she gives us a wry chuckle. “My son doesn’t have friends. Want to try again?”
Rigs interjects, “He’s more like the friend of a friend.”
She takes a sip of her wine and waves at a neighbor walking her dog. The other woman makes a ‘call me’ gesture with one hand. She says primly, “Like I haven’t heard that before. What has Terry done now? You can tell me. I won’t go batshit crazy on you.”
I shoot Siege a quick glance before making up some bullshit in case she’s playing us for information. “He was working security at an apartment complex I own and left the place a mess. I had to hire someone to clean it out. I wouldn’t normally track someone down for damages and such, but some equipment turned up missing from our property. Since it was fairly expensive, I had a mind to track him down and see if he knew anything about it.”
“If it was anything valuable, I’m sure Terry’s fenced it by now.” Looking from one to another of us, she adds, “My son was raised mostly by his father. And let’s just say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
“When was the last time you saw or spoke with him?” Rigs asks, keeping his tone polite and respectful.
She sighs and takes another sip of her wine. “I last saw him three incarcerations ago. That’s how we track time in Terryland.”
“So, about seven years, right?”
She smiles at me. “Aren’t you a smart little cookie.” Taking another sip of her wine, she finally tells us the truth. “Terry came here desperate for drugs. He demanded money, and when I refused, he pulled out a knife. I turned to run, and he lunged after me, leaving a gash on the back of my arm that took thirty-one stitches to close.” I watch her tear up a bit before she adds, “That wound still bothers me every damn day.”
She closes her eyes, looks up, and I hear her softly counting to ten under her breath. When she composes herself, she says, “My second husband died in the line of duty ten years ago. The police chief is a close personal friend. Terry knows law enforcement in this town would shoot to kill if he shows back up here. So if you gentlemen came here looking for my son, you certainly won’t find him in this town. He’d have to be flat-out stupid to come back here.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you. It must have seemed like a nightmare having your own son attack you.” I shake my head, angry over what this asshole has put his mother through.
“Thank you for saying so. Yes, it was horrific. And if I’m being honest, gentlemen, that’s why I drink. It’s not the best coping skill, but it takes the edge off, you know?”
“Yes, ma’am, I surely do. Would it make a difference if I told you he’s been stalking a lady friend of mine?”
“Damn that child of mine all to hell.” Turning, she stalks into the house and comes back out with a key ring. “There are three sheds behind my house. The smallest one has everything Terry left behind, boxed up in there. If any of it leads you to him, the world will be a safer place. That’s the best I can do for you.”
Rigs murmurs, “That’s more than we dreamed possible when we knocked on your door.”
“Do me a favor,” she says crossly. “When you’re finished going through it, burn it. I don’t want any connection to my son moving forward.”
Damn, this woman is absolutely not joking about her son being a gigantic, dangerous piece of shit. “We appreciate it, ma’am. I hope you stay safe, and your son never comes back this way again.”
She looks me dead in the eyes, then drains the rest of the wine out of her glass. “It’s a crying shame I was only able to have one child, and he turned out to be rotten to the core.”
“Like you said, that fell on the man who raised him.”
“Well, I hope they both rot in hell.” With that, she does an about-face, goes into her house, and shuts the door behind her.
“Goddamn, I ain’t never seen a mother reject her own son like that,” Siege says.
Rigs looks down at the key in his hand and responds, “Terrance sounds like a psychopath. They tend to leave a trail of destruction wherever they go.”
I tell them, “Let’s get to that shed and load up those boxes before she changes her mind.”
“That woman is finished with her depraved son. I don’t think she’s gonna change her mind, but we’d best get on with this so we can make it back home for dinner,” Siege says.
We go around the side of her house to find the three sheds she mentioned. They’re all lined up in a row. Rigs slides the key into the lock of the smallest one, and it clicks open with no problem. When the door swings open, we see the entire shed is empty except for a stack of boxes in the middle. We make short work of loading them into the vehicle. It turns out to be a tight squeeze. I end up squeezing my big body into the backseat, surrounded by boxes. The trunk barely closes on the ones we stuffed in there.
On the way back to Las Salinas, curiosity gets the better of me, and I open the box on my lap. It’s mostly comic books. I grab a stack and begin going through them. I guess my face must have alerted Rigs that what I found was more of the same creepy shit we found in Harris’ apartment because he turns over his shoulder and says, “The color just drained out of your face. Did you find more fantasies of violence in those comics?”
“Yeah, it’s different women’s faces but the same slasher-style naked bodies.” I hand a stack of them to Rigs. “This must have been his thing from way back. I can’t imagine his poor mother finding this depraved shit in his room after he moved out.”
Siege glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, I can’t imagine what that must have been like for her. I feel fucking terrible for her.”
Rigs just ignores our whole conversation as he flips through the comics. When his head comes up, he asks, “Do you think these women are the same ones you found on his flash drive? The ones who were murdered?” he clarifies.
My eyebrows shoot up. “You mean like the sick comics we found at his abandoned apartment? It’s possible, but unlikely. Terrance left these behind at least seven years ago. That would mean he’d been targeting them far in advance.”
Siege speaks up. “I think it’s more likely that he fantasized using women when he was in Reno—probably women he had some sort of grudge against. It took these ideas a while to develop in his mind as he matured. Then, when it came to killing, he settled for victims who were more accessible.”
Rigs muses out loud, “Something doesn’t feel right, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
I huff out an exasperated breath. “Welcome to my world. I’ve been saying that ever since I started looking into this situation.”
Once we meet up with the others, we head back to the clubhouse to look through the boxes for possible clues. I can’t wait. Having all his personal effects might lead to a break in the case—or might end up being just a bunch of junk he didn’t care to take with him. Either way, I want the opportunity to look through it.
I make a mental note that if these boxes don’t yield a clue, I can go back to searching Lexi’s computer. There’s nothing I found that suggests Terrance is a hacker, but given his attempt to hack into our computers, I’m guessing Terry-boy has some hidden talents he likes to keep quiet about. I still haven’t found out how he established a two-way link without the malware picking it up. I’m not about to return that computer to her until I figure it out. After stopping for lunch and refueling, we get back to the clubhouse just as it’s getting dark.