19. Lazarus
Lazarus
I arrive from stowing firearms, ammunition, rut suppressants, and illicit drugs just as the police pull up to the front gate.
“Are we secure?” Revenant whispers to me.
I give a single nod and observe the assemblage of club members in the area. As many raids over the last few months have taught us, we are spread out through visible areas of the driveway and in the open bays of the garage, our shadows tamed, and our attorney standing front and center.
Abraham is in a sharp suit, his typical attire, standing at the edge of the shade of the open garage.
His shadow, untamed, stands in the shape of a leopard, tail swishing back and forth in agitation.
He must have been tipped off about this police visit, especially with how quickly he got here.
Normally, we have a fifteen-minute delay before Abraham arrives. Today he’s early.
“Wonder what they want this time.” Revenant squints, looking across the bright open parking area to where the police are filing out of cars.
“The forces are seemingly concentrated to beta officers. It leads me to believe they are not here for any of us so much as to find something,” I muse.
The police approach the gate, and Abraham goes through the arduous process of verifying whatever they are here for. Unfortunately, he grants them entry, allowing a flood of officers to rush through.
I stand immovable as the officers shout at each other and start looking through the garage cabinets, trash cans, and anything else they can get their hands on.
The lack of care they show for our possessions only deepens with each visit.
But I’ve assured the prospects and club members: They are only broken items, they can be replaced or fixed.
Abraham approaches Revenant and me, the police chief — an alpha about ten years older than me — on his heels.
“Ivan.” The police chief uses our president’s real name, and it’s slightly jarring. Like when you bite into an apple expecting it to be sweet and it’s tart instead.
“Jonathan,” Revenant says in the same bored tone.
“My day has gone absolutely shitty, thanks for asking.” The police chief’s tone is thick with sarcasm.
I don’t understand why, but I remain silent in support of Revenant.
“Well, mine just got a whole lot worse.” Revenant is gruff, a low growl as a threat in his tone. “It’s not normally the city police chief paying us a visit.”
“I don’t want to be here hassling you any more than you want me here.” The police chief sighs.
He’s been on Revenant’s payroll since long before he became chief of police. We all do this dance where we pretend that none of us know what the other one does. But it’s the chief of police who helps us with the omegas who have crossed over to be with God when we bring them home.
“But we got a complaint from a member of parliament.” The police chief hangs his head for a moment. “It seems his long-lost daughter’s tracker came online a few days ago, and it was here, of all places, before it went back offline.”
Revenant looks to Abraham. Abraham looks toward me. I stay expressionless since it is none of my business which truth gets disclosed here today. I am not in charge, nor do I wish to be.
“It’s MP St. Pierre’s daughter.” The police chief looks to Abraham.
That name I recognize. MP St. Pierre is a political figure, a member of parliament ‘voted’ into office by ‘the public.’ He’s well known for his nonconforming religious beliefs and for being a loud, contradictory vote to any and all due process.
He gives monotheists a bad name with his overly critical views of society and by being anti–modern medicine and vaccines, and he was a loud voice in outlawing rut suppressants.
Revenant is fuming. Red creeps up his neck, his jaw set tight. But he’s gotten increasingly more proficient at keeping his tongue still when confronted with information he finds distasteful.
“Ah,” Abraham huffs but does not disclose his feelings one way or another. “That doesn’t change the facts. It took you how many days to get a search warrant? And if you had true proof she was here, this wouldn’t be a search warrant. You’d be making arrests.”
“The tracker has been dormant for nearly nine years. She and her mother disappeared. Police at the time assumed they were living off the grid. Her mother has ties to some traveling monotheist community, and since no ransom note ever showed up, it was assumed they snuck away to live with them. The tracker is the old style that only works on Wi-Fi networks. The trail went cold, and the police kept an open missing person case.” The police chief explains. “But it was before my time in charge.”
“Aren’t those old Wi-Fi trackers obsolete because they’d been known to give false positives on locations?” Revenant cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Yes,” Abraham answers. “The only reason he was able to get this warrant was because it’s a member of parliament’s missing daughter and there is weight behind it.”
“Listen, I’m sorry his daughter is missing, but she’s not here.
As I’m sure Abraham will inform you, this is an automotive and motorcycle garage.
We do custom builds and modifications for motorcycles and muscle cars from time to time.
There are no unmated omegas here.” Revenant uses one hand to vaguely gesture to the space around us, the fabrication garage.
“Yes, yes, and you’re just a social club of close-knit members saving on rent in a massively expensive city.
” The chief scoffs. But he levels with Revenant.
“I’ve heard the song and dance. But we have to do our due diligence.
If you have an omega here, we need to see her.
If we continue to get reports that she is here, then we will have to keep coming back. ”
“She’s not here. Come back as often as you’d like. But we have a business to run.” Revenant looks to Abraham. “If you need me, I’ll be across the street.”
Across the street is the main sales floor and Revenant’s day job office. He gives me a look, and I don’t acknowledge it. I get to turn off all the Wi-Fi in all the buildings as discreetly as possible, at least until we know if Honey is MP Pierre’s daughter or not.
If she is his daughter, that raises many questions that can only be answered when one looks too closely at what political figures don’t want you to see.
I know of one organization that doesn’t have Wi-Fi to trigger her tracker.
It would explain why I don’t remember an omega named Honey back when I was with the House of Apostles. She simply wasn’t there at the same time I was.