Page 12 of Being Lost

“No.” I fold my arms and glare, determined not to go anywhere near this strange man. “I want you to leave. My son will be home shortly,” I warn him again.

“Babe.” Now he stresses the word as he stands. He stalks toward me. I take a step back, and start circling around, my cunning plan being to get to the door. But he steps this way and that, and belatedly I realise that unknowingly, I’ve been herded toward the piece of furniture he so recently vacated. I’ve nowhere to go when my retreat is halted by the back of my knees hitting the sofa. Those hands I admired are closer now, and warm when he places them on my shoulders. “Sit,” he says again, this time applying pressure to push me down.

It’s the first time a man, other than my son or son-in-law-to-be, has touched me in many years. That, and the shock of this encounter must be the reason why I comply without putting up a fight.

He sits beside me, turning his body so he can watch my face.

There’s nothing between me and the door. Am I faster than him? Could I reach the door, grab my phone and, I don’t know, run into the street and scream for help?

“No.” He shakes his head with another of those half-grins, half-smirks. Mind reading is clearly one of his talents. “Stay where you are, Patsy. I can’t go without having this conversation, babe. Shit.” He rubs a hand over his face and his mirth fades away. “I’m Lost. Told you that. But that obviously doesn’t mean anything to you, so let me explain. I’m President of the San Diego Chapter of the Satan’s Devils MC.” Again, an eyebrow rises.

My initial thought is that I’ve fallen asleep and am in a dream world of one of those books that I read, then his words sink in, and I know if he’s who he says he is, then perhaps I do need to listen to him. My fear for myself recedes. Satan’s Devils have never done anything to worry me, but unease for someone else takes its place. “Has something happened to Beth?” My face pales, going to the only reason I can think of his coming to visit me.

“Not that I know of.” He shrugs.

So why is he here? And can I trust he’s really who he says he is?“Who’s the president of the Colorado chapter?” I ask quickly.

“Demon,” he replies without hesitation. “He’s married to Violet and they’ve got a small boy. He’s knocked her up again, I believe. Beef is his VP.” He is certainly dropping the right names. “Your daughter, Beth, is Ink’s, one of their members.”

He sounds legit. A burglar wouldn’t study up on such facts before invading a house, surely? But if he is a Satan’s Devil, the president of the local club no less, and he’s not here to bring me bad news about Beth, then, “Why are you here?” My eyes narrow and my brows crease.

His lips press together. “Patsy Foster.” As he provides my real name, any remaining blood rushes from my face, and my head drops into my hands. The penny hadn’t dropped when he’d mentioned Beth, but now it does. He knows exactly who I am, and who my son is. “Patsy,” he says fast, clearly noticing my consternation, “when you moved from Pueblo, Demon spoke to Dan. It was his suggestion you relocate here as it’s where a Satan’s Devils chapter is. The feds were open to Dan’s request, without knowing the reason of course, so here you are, where me and my crew could watch out for you.”

Demon did?Dan told him?My own lips purse as I wonder how I feel about that. “Does Beth know where we are?”

“No,” he says quickly. “And she mustn’t, Patsy. Nothing’s changed on that score.”

But if Demon does…

“No,” he repeats more firmly, again reading my mind. “Think, Patsy. At the moment, Beth’s safe as no one believes she would know anything about your whereabouts. If Alder thought she knew, what would happen then?”

I give a soft gasp. “He’d use her to find me.”

Lost nods. “If he didn’t completely buy into the story about Dan being dead and buried, he would. Beth’s got to remain in total ignorance of where you are.”

“But you’re looking out for us?” I put two and two together swiftly. “All those bikes going past…?”

“My boys,” he confirms. “But don’t worry. My VP lives just up the road, there’s nothing unusual in them passing by here.”

I suppose I can take a certain comfort in that someone has our best interest at heart. But that raises another question. Surely his appearance could raise a red flag? Why would an MC prez be visiting someone like me? “Are you supposed to be here?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’re right, I’m not. Look, babe.” I notice we’re back to babe now, having gotten past him knowing my name. I realise I’m starting to like it. “I was supposed to be in the background, knowing about you so I could set Demon’s mind at rest. I was never supposed to actually meet you. And things would have gone on that way…” He breaks off, and wipes his hands down his face, tugging at his beard. “The last thing I want to do is to worry you, but we’ve had a disturbing communication. Someone, and fuck knows who, has been in touch with us. The message told us to increase your security.”

What?“Like new locks on the door?” There’s not much else I can think of.

He gives a sad shake of his head. “No, babe. Not like that, though that’s something you need. Not quite sure how if I’m honest. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet. We need to find some facts we can work with. Question for you, babe. And I’ve got to ask you to be totally honest with me. If I don’t know, I can’t get to the bottom of this.” When he pauses, one of those large hands comes up to cup my face. It’s gnarled, not smooth, as if he works on the bike he presumably rides. “You left Colorado suddenly and with no reason. I doubt you would be a target yourself, but you could lead them to someone else, your son. The question is, could someone have discovered Connor Foster wasn’t cremated in that coffin?”

My hand covers my mouth as I remember that fateful day when I saw the coffin slide behind the curtain. I knew my son wasn’t in it, but it hadn’t been hard to show the same sadness as if he were. I hadn’t yet made, or even considered, the decision to come with him. At that time, I only knew he had to disappear. I’d never know where he was or what happened to him. I was going to give up my son just as if he were really dead. I hadn’t had to force my tears at our forthcoming separation.

“He’s dead as far as anyone knows,” I say, firmly, believing it has to be so. Alder had had doubts, but I’d thought I’d assuaged them. “If anyone asked Beth what happened to me, she was going to say I’d gone travelling and she wasn’t sure where, as I was moving around.” It was lame, but we didn’t expect Alder to come out of the woodwork to ask, or even bother about where I’d gone. For most people the excuse would have worked. With Beth settled, why shouldn’t her mom have some fun?

“I think someone knows he’s alive or has serious suspicions. Have you had any contact with your daughter? Or anyone from Colorado? Have they tried to call or talk to you? By email perhaps, or text?”

“No.”

“No? Come on, babe. Might not know you, but that look away with your eyes—that tells me you’re not telling me the truth. There’s something you’re holding back, and you need to tell me what it is.”

“No one could know.” This time the guilt makes me lower my eyes. “There’s no way anyone could trace it.”

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