Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Eliza
Two weeks had crawled by in a tense, unyielding march of time. Each day at school felt longer than the last, the heaviness of unresolved issues with Knox pressing down on me. My phone buzzed relentlessly with his attempts to reach out, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. The memory of that night we spent together—the warmth of being held by him followed by the violence outside my house—was too sharp, too fresh.
Knox had broken Mark’s nose and a few ribs. Not to mention, he’d scared my little Emma to death. He wasn’t the only one to blame. Mark had a heavy hand in all of it, I was quite aware. Besides, afterwards, Mark promised me that the judge would be hearing about the new company I kept. He thanked me for getting mixed up with outlaw bikers, saying he would finally get full custody of Emma. It was a threat. So, of course, I’d given Knox the cold shoulder since.
I was in the midst of an English lesson, the words of classic literature flowing out of me as I tried to instill some early appreciation into my second graders, when the abrupt knock at the door cut through the recitation. Two police officers, stern and official in their crisp uniforms, stood in the doorway.
The room fell silent before it filled with excited chatter. Turning, I saw the kids were staring, wide-eyed. I gave them a reassuring smile. “Just a moment, class.”
“Ms. Eliza Martin?” One of the officers asked, his voice too formal.
“Yes, that’s me,” I replied, feeling a chill crawl up my spine.
“Can you step outside into the hall?” The older of the two, a woman with sharp eyes, asked.
On edge, I stepped into the hallway, shutting the door after me, my heart pounding in my chest. Then I saw the principal, Mr. Cats practically jogging our way. Coming to relieve me? My thoughts were on Emma who was supposed to be safe at school.
“How can I help you, officers?” I asked with my heart in my throat.
The woman took a breath before speaking. “We need you to come with us, Ms. Martin. It’s about your ex-husband Mark Martin. He was found dead this morning.”
The entire planet seemed to tilt, the words not quite making sense. “Dead?” I echoed, my voice a whisper. “How? What happened?”
“We can’t discuss details here,” the male officer said. “But we need to ask you some questions, in private.”
Numb, I nodded, my mind racing as the principal told me he had arranged for a substitute teacher and would be with my class until they arrived.
“I didn’t do it,” I said out loud, suddenly frightened of the optics.
“No one is saying you did,” the male officer reassured me as we walked down the hall.
The walk to their car was a blur of activity, with concerned colleagues offering soft words of support, which I barely heard.
As my tears flowed, I answered questions on autopilot, barely registering them. I was handed tissue after tissue. Eventually, they told me I was free to go. I drove straight to Emma’s preschool, my thoughts chaotic and disjointed. How had this happened? Mark was just a part of my life, however complicated, and now he was forever gone. By the time I picked up Emma, my hands were shaking, but my face was a mask of calm I didn’t feel.
“Mommy, why are the police at school?” Emma’s innocent question broke through my turmoil as we drove past the elementary school where the officers were still parked. They would be questioning all my co-workers, no doubt.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart,” I assured her, forcing a smile. “Just some grown-up stuff.”
We were almost home when my phone rang. It was Knox’s number, but the voice on the other end wasn’t his—it was his brother, Rocky, another member of the Royal Bastards MC.
“Eliza, there’s something you need to know,” Rocky’s voice was grave, and every word he spoke next chilled me to the bone. “Knox has been taken in for questioning. They’re saying he’s a prime suspect in your ex-husband’s death—some folks in your neighborhood remembered the fight.”
The phone nearly slipped from my grasp. Knox, a suspect? I couldn’t piece it together. The implications were terrifying, the timing damning. Torn between driving to the station and going home, I knew I had to shield Emma, had to keep her insulated from this nightmare swirling around us.
As I hung up, my resolve hardened. I had to find out what had happened to Mark. But my first priority was Emma. I kept our routine as normal as possible, making her a snack and turning on the television like we often did before her nap.
I was sitting in the living room, Emma playing quietly with her toys on the floor, when Grandma, who had been a constant support since Mark’s shortcomings as a father emerged, walked in with a grave expression.
“Eliza, dear,” she began hesitantly, her voice laced with grief and disapproval. We went to the kitchen, away from Emma’s little ears. “I’m sure you’ve heard. I had to ID Mark’s body today. It was… it was bad. Unrecognizable.” Her eyes welled with tears, her next words catching in her throat. “Those people you’re involved with, those bikers. They’re nothing but trouble. You can’t trust them.”
Her words stung, laden with old prejudices and fresh pain. I hugged her, trying to offer comfort, but her words churned inside me. Could Knox really be a part of something so violent? Was I na?ve to think he could be different from the cliché?
“Grandma, I know it’s hard to understand, but Knox isn’t like Mark. He’s different,” I caught myself defending him, even as doubt clouded my heart. I wanted to say I never saw him hurt a fly, but that wasn’t true. I witnessed him injuring Mark. I heard him threaten to kill Mark if not get his club to do it.
She shook her head, her old fears meshing with the current tragedy. “I was young once. I’ve seen what those clubs can do, Eliza. Please, for Emma’s sake, think carefully about who you bring into her life.”
Her warning hung heavy between us as she left, leaving me to watch Emma play, her innocence numbing next to the complexity of adult loyalties and betrayals. The weight of my daughter’s safety, the judgment of the community, and my own conflicted feelings about Knox pressed down on me. How could I balance this? Was my instinct to trust Knox a mere folly led by my loneliness and need for affection?
Worse news seemed to haunt the edges of each thought. Mark’s violent end, so brutal and complete, was a nightmare turned reality. Could someone I was growing to care for be capable of such a thing? Or was he just another victim of circumstance, caught in a web of past affiliations and present suspicions?
After a tumultuous few hours filled with confusion and growing fear, my phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Knox, and his words were urgent but clear.
Knox: I just got bailed out. I didn’t do this.
I need to clear my name and
I’m going to figure out what really happened.
Please believe me
His plea echoed in the swirling storm of my thoughts. Part of me—the part that had felt safe in his arms, that had laughed and shared secrets with him—the part who had fallen in love with him, wanted to believe him without a second thought. But then there was the other part, shadowed by fear and the harsh words of Mark’s mother, that trembled at the unknown.
The decision of whether to trust Knox or not, to help him even in the face of my own doubts, consumed me. But as I watched my daughter, the decision also became a question of what I stood for. Did I believe in the man who had shown me kindness, respect, and passion, or did I let fear dictate my actions?
For now, Knox was out there, alone, trying to clear his name. And despite everything, a piece of me knew I couldn’t turn my back on him. I had to find the truth, for Knox, for myself, and for Emma.