Chapter 12 #3
But Keys shook his head. “No! That’s just it. Tracy Marigold didn’t murder Melanie,” his eyes danced over to Steel, “but neither did Griffin Shaw.”
Keys reached behind himself to pull out his computer.
There on the screen, in black and white, was a middle-aged woman in a pretty dress with her hair done up sitting across from an older man in a long-sleeve polo and slacks.
Steel watched as the woman laughed, cut a piece of cake with her fork, and then reached across the table to feed her companion.
The timestamp showed it was late, nearly eleven at night, and minutes before Melanie’s murder. Bluefield, West Virginia, was nowhere near Pennsylvania, Melanie, or her college.
Coldness washed over Steel like an ice bath.
He felt no remorse or regret for what he’d done to Griffin Shaw, not after the way the man had terrorized Steel’s life for months.
But the truth of his deathbed confession was right there in black and white.
His blood froze, and his heart turned to stone.
The question tasted like acid in his mouth: “Then who the fuck killed my daughter?”
Keys claimed he needed to move out into his van to work from the station there.
No one argued, since the sight in the cabin was ghastly and the smell was even worse.
Scar and Tally never returned, but no one was worried.
Steel didn’t know where Scar had parked his sled after he dumped the panel van they’d used to kidnap Shaw.
Starbucks and Cage worked to clean the rest of the cabin of any trace evidence. Without an accelerant, the cabin was too wet to burn. Steel honestly didn’t care. It could burn or be left to the elements.
Bulldog was working with Ranger to cover their tire tracks up to the abandoned cabin.
There wasn’t a marked road, but a path that looked like it could have once been a drive.
Since Steel doubted anyone had lived or been to that cabin before Scar and him in decades, it was doubtful any modern maps would even have the road marked.
Steel didn’t even know how Scar had found the cabin or known it was here.
He’d just been grateful for its existence because it fit his needs perfectly.
Ghost and Papaw stood over Steel as he ate a freeze-dried meal of coconut curry chicken and veggies.
He didn’t taste a single bite, nor did he appreciate the men forcing the food on him like he was five years old.
When Steel threatened to kick their asses for pushing him, Papaw just laughed, “Ha! In your condition, I’d like to see you try.
You’d be more likely to knock yourself on your ass rather than kicking ours. ”
It was a blow to the ego, but also a wakeup call.
Steel wasn’t in any condition to fight anyone.
He’d used up all his energy, all his efforts, on getting Shaw.
Now… He didn’t know what now, because the possibility that Shaw wasn’t Melanie’s murderer had never occurred to him, or any of them until about fifteen minutes ago.
He didn’t know how to tell Jenna. How to tell her that their daughter’s murderer still lived, and worse, he had no idea who he or she was.
After he finished the meal and drank about a gallon of water, he started to feel more centered. Fuck Papaw for being such a stubborn asshole. That was usually Steel’s job, but then, he supposed he had to learn it somewhere.
When Keys called Ghost into his van, it left Papaw and Steel alone on the front stairs.
“You certainly did a number on Shaw,” Papaw commented.
Steel didn’t hear any judgement in his voice, but it had also been a long time since he slept—and even longer since he slept well. “Are you saying he didn’t deserve it?”
“Oh, the fucker deserved it,” Papaw said with loathing.
“And not just for what he put the club through recently, but for what he put you through thirty years ago. It still haunts me, you know. If you and I hadn’t been together, your entire life could have been spent behind bars for something you didn’t do.
And all because Shaw came in second place. ”
Though Steel had put the whole thing behind him years ago, he couldn’t argue that Papaw had a point.
If Shaw had succeeded in framing him thirty years ago, none of his kids would have been born.
The club would have never been formed. And Jenna…
She might have had to watch his execution for a crime he hadn’t committed.
Or maybe the Agency had picked him up instead of Shaw.
A chance encounter, a mere coincidence, had saved him that fate.
“You got your revenge, Steel, but at the end of the day, who did you end up hurting more? You look like shit. When was the last time you shaved or changed your clothing?”
Steel said nothing, and not just because he knew the questions were rhetorical.
Papaw leaned back on his elbows, groaning slightly as his back cracked. “You know, back in the day, when you were a youngster, I looked up to you.”
Surprised by not only the confession but also being called a ‘youngster’, Steel raised a skeptical eyebrow at his old training instructor. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“You had everything figured out. You knew who you were. And despite that I too was a husband back then, you had this unshakable confidence about you. I never had that with Jenny, and we were married over thirty years before she died. But you and Jenna? The first time I saw the two of you together, I couldn’t help but wonder why my marriage wasn’t like that.
And as much as I loved Jenny, I know now why it wasn’t.
She wasn’t my One. Not like Jenna is for you, as Louisa is for me.
I found my One, but you’ve had her, Jack. ”
It had been a long time since anyone but Jenna called him ‘Jack’. Even his doctors called him ‘Steel’.
“I don’t know the pain of losing a child.
I pray I am long dead by the time my children pass.
But I do know one thing, Steel. Your strength comes from Jenna.
Always has, always will. You think I didn’t know something was going on with Jenna long before the two of you told us about her illness?
I knew. Because I saw the way you were with her, like she had an axe hanging over her head and you were terrified it was going to fall.
Jenna’s not gone, Steel. I’m so fucking sorry about Melanie.
But don’t lose your strength in your search for vengeance.
” Papaw tipped his head towards Keys’ van.
“Whatever it is the kid is going to find, promise me there will be something of you left when we’re done.
After everything, Jenna deserves that, man.
You haven’t seen her recently. She looks almost as bad as you do. ”
Steel stiffened at the slight towards Jenna, his hands balling up into fists.
Papaw put his hands up in surrender. “I don’t mean that offensively, but it is true. She’s lost a lot of weight. She won’t go anywhere but home and church. We’re really worried about her.”
Steel’s fists tightened, but not in anger towards Papaw.
At himself. He was a heel. He was dirt. He was lower than dirt.
He was the dirt worms ate and then shit out.
He didn’t deserve to be called a father or a husband.
Steel was a lot of things, but a man who abandoned his family in their time of need…
? He never thought he would ever be that man.
“I can’t go back,” he confessed to Papaw. “She knows and understands. I can’t, not until it’s done.”
Papaw didn’t argue or protest. He just nodded his head once and said, “Just make sure there’s enough pieces of you left for her when that happens.”
A whistle in the night caught their attention, and they looked up to see Ghost hanging out the back of the van and waving for them to come over.
Papaw stood before turning to offer Steel a hand up.
Steel took it, allowing the older man to heft him to his feet.
They nodded once, a silent understanding that they would do what they needed to do to see this through.
On Steel’s part, though, it was also a vow. He needed to do better, to be better.
As they walked towards the van, Steel asked, “How’s Ollie?”
“Hurting. Missing his sister and his daddy,” was Papaw’s immediate answer. “But he understands. He’s getting his cast off soon. Either this Wednesday or next. I can’t remember shit like that. Louisa keeps me in line.”
Relief filled Steel that his son was getting better. He wanted to ask about Carter, Lucy, Drew, and Jordan, but they reached the van.
“…sort of lazy-ass detectives are they hiring these days? Are you fucking kidding me? An eight-digit password? And it’s your fucking dog’s name? What the fuck!”
Steel frowned at Keys’ loud cursing from inside the van. All the lights were on in the back so he could clearly see inside. Ghost looked like he was getting a headache.
“Just get in here,” Ghost grumbled before stepping back.
“Fucking old geezer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing,” Keys snapped as Steel and Papaw stepped up into the back.
Almost two years ago, Keys had purchased a Ford Transit 250-Cargo Van and retrofitted it to be a computer lab on the go.
One side was lined with monitors, a desk, and a chair on a track whereas the other side was the club’s version of an ambulance.
The vehicle had certainly come in handy a time or two.
“Who the fuck are you calling old?” Steel demanded.
“The fucking detective on Melanie’s case,” Keys answered.
Papaw closed the door behind them. Frustrated, Keys let out what could only be described as a cub growl, slammed his hand down on the desk, and then swiveled in his chair to face them.
“I’ve got nothing. There’s nothing on the server about Melanie’s case. ”
Steel stiffened, his anger starting to rise. “They closed it?”