Chapter 33 Dakota
DAKOTA
Logan and I are visiting Paige, who still hasn't gone into labor despite her guys' best efforts.
I'm sure she enjoyed the attempts, but she's as round as before, trying to find a comfortable position on the couch and failing.
They live in one of the houses behind the compound, and it looks newly renovated with space for her, the three men and a little more for kids.
From what she’s told me, the Sons bought up all the properties on the street to create a buffer zone for the club and to give members with families somewhere to live that’s a bit more normal.
Paige has Jessica on one side, and Willow on the other, who I haven't met yet.
Bonnie and Anne have a house slightly farther down.
Could it be me one day, with Lash, Jackal and Stiff?
At first I wasn't sure if I should go outside the walls, but it's been quiet the last couple days, and Crank rode with me so he could check on Paige.
Poe is watching Logan play with Mr. Larson, his motorcycle helmet and a couple of toy motorcycles on the floor.
Practicing for when he has one of his own, Paige joked.
My phone rings.
Is it the guys? They left this morning, and uncharacteristically, they didn't let me know where they were going. Just rode off with several other Sons, so I'm guessing it's club business.
No, it's an unknown number, but local. I ignore it.
The phone rings again, pulling me out of it.
“I'm just going to take this, is that okay?”
Paige nods and waves at me to go. “We’ll be fine in here.”
I slip out into the hall, next to the coat rack and a small mountain of shoes and motorcycle boots. “Hello?”
“Is this Ms. Vale?”
I frown. Past me would've just said yes, but I feel I'm getting more skeptical. Maybe the guys are rubbing off on me. “Who's asking?”
“This is Kenneth Hayes, I’m calling from Blackwell General.
” His voice is very no-nonsense. “The police are wrapping up their investigation of your sister's accident—I'm really sorry for your loss, by the way—and preparing the documents to allow the release of her remains. But we need some signatures to finish the process. I was hoping you’d be able to get down to the processing office this afternoon. I hate to ask on such short notice, but Britt goes on vacation tomorrow, and it could be a while before anything gets done.”
His condolences sound about as sincere as a politician promising to never raise taxes. “How long is she gone?”
“Two weeks. Bahamas.” Maybe he's just jealous, because that sounds pretty nice right now.
I probably shouldn’t go alone, but at the same time, I don't want to have to wait another two weeks if I don't have to. The funeral home said they were ready as soon as the police were done. I’ve been feeling ready for closure now that I have more of the answers, even if we might never know exactly what happened.
My chest goes tight, the reality of the loss hitting me hard.
It's all ups and downs. Sometimes I'm so busy that I don't have time to think about it, but then something reminds me, and the fact that she's gone for good just slams into me.
No more showing up suddenly, rekindling the hope that this time, she's going to get clean and get away from Jay.
No more visits with Logan where I can see her wondering what life would be like if things were different.
“Ms. Vale?”
I make a snap decision, for better or worse. “I'll be down in a little bit. Is it at the police station?”
“No, it’s around the back of the hospital. I'll text you the address. Ask for me when you get here. Ken Hayes. I'm around all afternoon.”
“Right. Thank you.”
“Sure. And again, sorry for your loss.” Then he hangs up, leaving me to get my feelings bottled up enough that I don't go back into the living room bawling.
I know I’m going to get chewed out for going on my own, so I thank Paige and her boys for their hospitality and tell them we’re driving back up to the club.
Logan's definitely not happy about leaving.
They might not be his regular motorcycle men, but he likes Crank, Savage and Poe too.
Especially Poe, I think. But he says goodbye politely and waves on our way out.
“Good job, Lo. You're being really good right now.”
“Okay, Mommy,” says the gloomiest boy who ever gloomed.
“Listen, we're going for a little car ride first. I need to talk to some people. Maybe we can get donuts on the way home?” I'm not big on bribing him just for a trip out, but these are weird times, and they call for unusual methods.
“Donuts?” The gloom evaporates immediately, and he throws himself happily into the car seat.
The address isn't too far from the hospital. It’s across the street in a complex owned by Blackwell.
The front faces the street, clearly marked as a forensic center, but the parking lot is around the back.
It feels a little cramped and exposed, despite the security cameras on posts overlooking it.
Everything is very professional and well-marked though, so I take Logan's hand and bring him with me.
He looks around curiously, clutching the plush helmet tight.
It's not the kind of place that looks likely to have a play area while we wait.
I ask for Ken Hayes at the counter, and the lady in reception looks him up and calls him down.
He's a stocky man, who looks about as emotionally shallow as he sounded on the phone.
He waves us along and we follow him down a hallway.
Down some stairs. Another hallway. This place is a maze once you get past the reception.
“Can we go home now?” Logan asks unhappily. Even the draw of a donut doesn't override the dreariness of office hallways. I get it.
“Pretty soon, Lo.” I squeeze his hand, and hope I'm right. There can only be so much maze here, right?
As if in response, Ken pauses in front of a door and opens it for us. “In here.”
The room is a loading dock. There's a man standing there, with his back to me. What the heck? “I don't understand, why are we…” I trail off when I see Ken with a gun out and pointing at us. “What's going on?”
The man turns, and the bottom falls out of my stomach. “Ms. Vale,” Officer Dillard—or Jay—says. “Step into the car, please.”
“Mommy?” Logan asks nervously, picking up on the vibe in the room. He grabs my leg with one hand and squeezes the helmet close with the other.
“Shh, Lo. It's going to be alright.”
I hope.