Chapter Nine #2
I helped her off the motorcycle, supporting her weight as she balanced on her good foot.
The door creaked as I shouldered it open, revealing a cavernous space thick with dust and the sweet smell of old hay.
Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the roof, casting silver stripes across the dirt floor.
Farm equipment long abandoned created shadowy shapes in the corners.
“Wait here.” I eased Nova down onto a wooden crate just inside the door. “Let me check it out first.”
She nodded, clutching her messenger bag against her chest, the evidence we’d risked everything to obtain secured inside.
I moved through the barn, tactical flashlight in hand, checking for any signs of recent occupation or potential threats.
Finding none, I returned to Nova, whose face had gone pale with pain in the harsh beam of my light.
“All clear. Let’s get you settled so I can look at that ankle.”
I found a relatively clean spot near the back of the barn where someone had once stored hay bales.
A few remained, dry and musty but usable.
I arranged them into a makeshift seat, then helped Nova limp over, supporting her waist. The small sounds of pain she tried to suppress with each step twisted something in my chest.
“This’ll do for now.” I settled her on the hay bales. “How’s the pain? Scale of one to ten?”
“Four.” She caught my skeptical look. “Fine. Seven. Maybe eight when I put weight on it.”
I kneeled before her, opening my medical bag. “Let me see.”
Nova extended her leg. I unlaced the boot carefully, easing it off then rolled down her sock. The skin underneath was already mottled with bruising. Clinical detachment warred with a more personal concern as I examined the swelling joint.
“Definitely a sprain.” I probed the area with practiced fingers. “Grade two, possibly. You’re lucky it’s not broken.”
“Doesn’t feel lucky.”
I rummaged in my medical bag, producing an instant cold pack, an elastic bandage, and a bottle of ibuprofen. “Luck is relative in our situation. At least I can treat this.”
Nova watched as I cracked the cold pack and wrapped it around her ankle, her gaze never leaving my hands. “I know you’re a doctor, but this seems more…”
“Field medicine. Army taught me to work with what I have. Improvise when necessary.” I handed her the ibuprofen and a bottle of water from my bag. “Take three. It’ll help with the swelling and pain.”
She obeyed and swallowed the pills without complaint. Flashlight beams caught her face, drawn with exhaustion. She pointed to her messenger bag. “We should look at what we found. Make sure it was worth it.”
I nodded, helping her shift to create a flat surface on a nearby workbench. She pulled out the files we’d taken from the county clerk’s office, spreading them carefully across the dusty wood. I added the flash drive, setting it beside the documents like a period at the end of a damning sentence.
“These financial records are just the beginning.” She pointed to a page filled with Mary-Jane’s tight handwriting. “Mom tracked the payments, the missing girls, the court cases. All she needed were the official records to prove it.”
“Records she was killed for trying to access,” I mumbled.
Nova’s fingers traced her mother’s handwriting, a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “She was close. So close to exposing all of it.”
We worked methodically through the evidence, connecting payments to specific cases, identifying key players in the trafficking network.
Judge Harmon and Deputy Chief Wallace were just the visible faces of a system that ran deeper than either of us had imagined.
The sheriff himself appeared in several transactions.
Three county commissioners. The district attorney’s brother-in-law.
Despite her exhaustion and injury, Nova’s mind remained sharp, connecting dots others might have taken days to see. Her intelligence, her focus, her sheer determination -- all of it impressed me in a way few things had.
“You’re amazing.” The words escaped before I could filter them.
She looked up, surprise written across her features. “What?”
“This.” I gestured to the organized evidence, the connections she’d made. “The way you’ve pursued this, even with people trying to kill you. Even with the club trying to shut you down. You never wavered.”
A flush crept up her neck, visible even in the dim light. “I’ve been terrified the whole time. Every step, every discovery -- I’ve been scared out of my mind.” Her gaze met mine, vulnerability and strength coexisting in their hazel depths. “I’ve just gotten good at hiding it.”
“Fear doesn’t make you weak. Acting despite it makes you strong.”
Her hand found mine across the workbench, her fingers small but steady as they twined with mine. “I’ve never had anyone stand by me like this. Not since my parents died. Everyone else either wanted me to let it go or tried to handle it for me.”
I looked down at our interlaced fingers, her delicate hand in my larger one, and felt something shift inside me -- something fundamental, like tectonic plates realigning. “I’ve never defied the club for anyone before. Never even considered it.”
The truth of that statement hung between us, weighty with implications neither of us was ready to fully acknowledge. Nova’s gaze searched mine in the dim light, asking questions we didn’t have time to answer.
“What happens now?”
I ran through our options, and every one of them looked bad. We had the evidence but nowhere safe to stash it. Local authorities already played dirty. Federal agencies would drag their feet before lifting a finger. And the club…
“We go back. We take this to the President. Even though he’s likely had Wire and his family working on this stuff, I don’t know that he’d have found this yet.”
Nova’s eyebrows rose. “After you defied direct orders? After we both ran?”
“Because of that. This evidence is too important to hide. Too many lives are in jeopardy.” I squeezed her hand gently.
“Your mother died trying to expose this. We owe it to her to finish what she started, through proper channels if possible. That’s the only way we can show the world she was murdered. ”
“The club will be furious with you.” Her brow creased in concern.
“Probably.” I found a strange calm in the certainty of facing consequences. “I broke my oath to them. Disobeyed direct orders. Left without permission.”
“Because of me.” Guilt flashed across her features.
I shook my head. “Because it was right.” My thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand. “Some promises matter more than others. Some oaths run deeper than ink and blood.”
In the silence that followed, we shared an understanding, a connection forged in danger and purpose. Nova’s eyes held mine, steady and clear despite everything we’d faced. Everything we still had to face.
“If we do this, we do it together. I won’t let you face them alone.”
I nodded, unexpected warmth spreading through my chest at her words. “Together.”
We gathered the evidence, organizing it for transport, our movements falling into sync without a word.
I slipped the flash drive into the inner pocket of my jacket.
We photographed the evidence with our phones, backing up everything we could.
Nova tucked the most damning paper evidence into her messenger bag.
I searched the area for something to hold the rest of it.
There was a chance we’d have to leave it behind.
As I helped Nova stand, testing her weight on her injured ankle, I studied her face -- the intelligence in her eyes and the stubborn tilt of her chin that had drawn me from the start.
In the short time I’d known her, she’d upended everything I thought I understood about loyalty, about purpose, about what I was capable of risking.
“Ready?” I offered my arm for support.
She nodded, slipping her arm around my waist instead, pressing against my side in a way that felt like trust made physical. “As I’ll ever be.”
Some battles demanded a fight, even when victory never came guaranteed.
Some people deserved that fight, even when the cost stripped away everything I’d built.
Whatever waited at the compound -- punishment, exile, or reluctant acceptance -- we would face it together, carrying evidence no one could ignore and a truth that demanded justice.
For Mary-Jane Treemont. For the missing girls. For Nova.
And maybe, just a little, for myself.