Chapter 11
“How is it coming along with the investigation?” I ask, standing in Stone’s office at the clubhouse with Hawk and Reaper.
“These guys are good, I’ll give them that,” Hawk says.
“I’ve hacked the church’s server, but everything is clean so far.
Whatever they are doing, it’s not through emails.
And unless they are sending out hidden messages through them, I can’t find anything suspicious.
They stopped doing a lot of transactions about three and a half years ago, which is weird and a red flag to me.
But what really stands out is the amount of money they collect from tithing has quadrupled, but the number of members isn’t there to support those transactions. ”
“Why do you say that?” Reaper asks.
“Unless Sweetwater has several multi-millionaires that have popped up in the last three years that we don’t know about, the church is funneling something,” Hawk says, pulling out documents and placing them down on Stone’s desk.
We all take a sheet of paper and start looking it over, but it’s all Greek to me.
“Why hasn’t this been reported or thrown any flags to the government?” I ask.
“Because it’s a nonprofit, and there’s a separation between church and state. These churches get away with a lot under that umbrella. Unless a disgruntled member reaches out to the government, most of these places never get questioned,” Hawk educates us.
“It shows seven people who donate five thousand a week,” Reaper calls out. “Do we know any of them?”
“I’ve looked up the names and none of the names are anyone who lives in our city. They’re all generic names, and it’s cash transactions, so there’s no money trail,” Hawk says.
Stone sits back in his chair, rubbing his chin, looking at the wall behind us.
“How has something like this been going on under our noses all this time?” Reaper says, setting down the papers in his hand.
“Sounds to me like we should turn the MC into a nonprofit, then all the money we collect would be legit,” I say with a chuckle and the others follow.
A knock on the door has us turning our heads.
“Yeah!” Stone calls out.
The door opens and a prospect pops his head in.
“Hey, Prez, chief of police is here to speak with you,” he announces.
“Wonder what he could want?” Reaper asks out loud.
“Send him in,” Stone tells him.
The door opens a few moments later, and Turner walks in. He’s wearing his full uniform, and the expression on his face tells me that this isn’t a social call.
“What can we help you with, Turner?” Stone says, staying seated in his chair.
“Just came from Pastor Walter Meyers’ farm,” Turner says.
“And?” I ask.
I’d wanted to be the one to head over there ever since our little run-in with the good Shepherd Walter right out in front of his church.
“Place is straight out of the Little House on the Prairie set mixed with some Amish vibes,” Turner tells us.
“What’s that mean?” Reaper asks.
“It means that the men all wear the same type of clothing and so do the women,” he informs us, and I remember back when I’d see Sutton always in a white long skirt and white shirt.
“One section of the farm is dedicated to actually farming with cows and crops and shit. He has several small houses throughout the property.”
“Why would that warrant a visit to us? Seems like he’s a law abiding citizen trying to live peacefully,” Stone tells the chief.
“How many farmers you know need every man on the property strapped with multiple weapons? And I’m not talking about just pistols or nines.”
All of my brothers look at each other with a raised eyebrow.
“Think he’s hiding something?” Hawk asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
“You guys already know more than I do at this point, so why not fill me in and we can work together? The last thing I need is for the Feds to get involved and start looking into our town.” Turner looks over at Stone, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What did the good Pastor say when you went out for the visit?” Stone asks, not answering his question.
Turner sighs deeply. “He’d called me again about Sutton. Wanted me to set up a video call so that he could speak with her, proof of life and all that.” He rolls his eyes. “Told him that his daughter didn’t want to have any contact with him but that she was doing well up in a northern state.”
“How’d he take that?” I ask.
Turner turns his head over towards me.
“Not well, even tried to pussyfoot around donating to my next campaign if I told him where she’s located.”
“Son of a bitch,” I mumble.
“Well, well, the good reverend isn’t above bribery,” Hawk says. “How much?”
“What?” Turner turns to our brother.
“How much did he offer you?”
Turner smirks, and it grates on my nerves.
“Ten grand,” the chief of police answers. “That’s quite a bit of money for a small town modest preacher, don’t you think?”
“You see anything else suspicious out on the farm?” Stone changes the subject.
“Just a lot of little shacks throughout the fields.”
“Shacks?”
“They look like outhouses. Thought maybe they were holding equipment but to have that many spread out didn’t seem right. Why not build two or three big barns?”
“How many would you say you saw?” Reaper asks.
Turner rubs the back of his neck with his eyes looking up at the ceiling, in thought.
“Got to be, several dozen. Maybe more,” he says.
Stone leans up from his chair with his forearms resting on the desk.
“We think Walter is doing some illegal shit and running it through the church to avoid being flagged by the government,” Stone says.
“What kind of shit?” Turner asks.
“Don’t know yet and of course we aren’t using the most legit ways of gathering our intel.”
“When have you ever?” Turner throws out, and it pulls a grunt from my chest.
“Have you noticed any new people in town lately?” Hawk asks, not looking up from his laptop as he types something out.
“Sweetwater is a pass-through town to the big cities. We’ve got new people all the fucking time running through here,” Turner snaps at him. “You’ve got to be more specific.”
“Saw a group of black SUVs not long ago escorting a man. Saw those vehicles a couple times over the last few weeks,” Stone mentions.
Turner narrows his eyes, chewing on the side of his cheek.
“Bradford mentioned a crew of black SUVs coming through last week. One was parked in a no parking zone. He’d spoken with two of them, said that they had business in Big Spring.”
“What’d they look like?” Hawk asks, snapping his neck up from his screen.
Turner starts to scratch his chin. “Shit, ah, young Hispanic guys? Thought they were government at first. Didn’t think much of it when he’d said something.”
“You should probably start paying more attention to people passing through your town, Chief,” Stone scolds.
“Fuck you, Stone,” Turner spits out, and both Reaper and I take a step toward the chief. “This town doesn’t have trouble unless you and your MC bring it.”
“I’d watch how you speak to Prez,” Reapers low deep voice sends a chill through the room.
“It’s because of the MC that the crime rate is so low and you know it. We handle a lot that you can’t touch, Chief,” Stone says standing to his feet, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I’d remember that if I were you.”
Turner huffs out a frustrated breath.
“What do you want to do about Walter?” Turner finally asks as the tension dissipates.
“We need to find out more about what type of operation he’s running out of that farm,” Hawk states. “Do we know anyone we could snatch from there that won’t alert attention to us?”
All the heads swing my way.
“I can ask my Ol’ Lady, but I’m not putting her in jeopardy,” I offer.
“It might be the only way to get some answers unless one of your brothers wants to find Jesus and join a cult soon,” Turner pops off.
“Jesus ain’t the problem,” Reaper scoffs. “It’s the lunatics who have ulterior motives and use his name for gain.”
A short time later Turner leaves, and we all take a seat back in our chairs.
“What are you thinking, Prez?” I ask.
Stone spends several minutes looking over all the documents Hawk brought in to us before he tosses them down on the desk. He scrubs his face with his hands.
“Think we’ve got a mess on our hands.”