Page 31 of The Biker's Brother

“It took a while for me to accept that he was capable of murdering me, but…” She paused. “He said things that scared me.”

“It seems to me that the only thing he’s holding over your head is a possible copy of a forged will, assuming that you took the original. Depending on how much he spent, the forgery might be good enough to stand up in court. So the way to invalidate that is to create a new will that postdates that one, have it witnessed by two reliable third parties and notarized, file it with the court, and put him on notice. In other words, render his motive impotent.”

Cami looked back and forth between Brandon and the road several times before saying, “That seems… perfectly reasonable. And flawlessly logical.”

“I’m surprised your father didn’t think of it.”

“He may have. But I think, in the end, he also came to understand that Trey isn’t…” she seemed to be searching for the right word, “…stable.”

“Do you think he’s crazy?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Yes.”

Brandon looked perfectly sober.

“That explains why he wanted to steal you away and keep you someplace safe until after the divorce. But if it’s more than money with this guy, how do you know he’ll move on after the divorce?”

She shook her head. “I guess I don’t. One step at a time. Right?”

“Right.” Brandon regretted voicing his thoughts out loud without thinking about the effect his pessimism might have on her.

They drove on and took turns with the radio. Brandon tried to lighten the mood by making fun of her musical taste. He made fun of the lyrics, the nasal twang, and the slide guitar. She did her best to defend her choice, but was often so overcome with laughter that she couldn’t talk.

“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. These songs are either about drinking, cheating, or love gone bad,” he said.

When they stopped for gas and the ladies’ room, Brandon took over driving again and commandeered the radio. At one point he got a little nervous about a pair of headlights following for twenty miles, but eventually they turned off and the lights disappeared.

“And what do you think rock is about?” She fired her own volley of musical critique. “Sex. Sex. More sex. ‘Oh baby, I just can’t keep my dick in my pants’.”

Brandon laughed.

“Makes the world go round.”

When it started getting darker in the late afternoon, she said, “You promised me a place where I can take a shower and put on dry clothes. With real food.”

“I promised dry clothes. You made up the rest.”

“Let’s negotiate.”

“What do you have that I want?”

“A turn on the radio.”

“For what?”

“Stopping now.”

The point became moot before he answered because the road ahead was barricaded. There were police cars with lights on blocking the way forward.

When Brandon pulled up, a sheriff’s deputy in full rain gear walked over. Brandon lowered the window enough to ask, “What’s going on?”

“The river’s coming up over the bridge. You’ll have to turn around.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Brandon said.

He turned around and started to backtrack.

“What now?” Cami said.

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