Page 20 of Sins of the Fathers
“You heard me,” Gibson replied, unperturbed. “I’ll come down to your office with all the official paperwork. Thank you for the assist.”
Dawson stifled a smug grin at Rollins’s consternation, knowing he and Grady were going to feel the brunt of the angry sheriff’s ire sooner or later. He cast a look at Gibson, unsure whether he and Grady were still in the frying pan or had jumped right into the flames.
Rollins and his deputies had the bar brawlers zip-tied and Mirandized in record time, herding them out to the waiting SUVs. Dawson and Grady edged closer to each other, trying to figure out how they fit into the messy puzzle.
Gibson turned to the bartender. “Those HDF guys come in here often?”
The bartender laid his shotgun on the bar. His thundering defiance had faded, leaving him just looking tired. “More than I’d like. They picked us, we didn’t invite them. I keep watering down their beer, and the kitchen knows to burn or over-salt their food, but they won’t take the hint.”
“You know anything about their friend getting drugged?” Gibson asked, with a nod toward Dawson and Grady.
“Knox? I remember him coming in to handle a service call. He talked to the manager, and he fixed the dishwasher. The boss had to go log in a delivery, and I had some guy whose card kept getting declined. Knox didn’t order anything except a soda when he first got here, and I didn’t see him leave.” He shrugged. “Figured he went out the kitchen door.”
“Who reported the problem with the dishwasher? Who worked kitchen staff that day?” Tucker asked.
“Don’t know without looking at the schedule, but I can find out,” the bartender replied. He walked to a bulletin board just inside the kitchen doorway and came back a minute later.
“Carl Kaufman was the cook—he’s been here for years. Good guy, keeps his head down,” the bartender reported. “Bill Hammond was bussing. Twitchy little guy, only been here a couple of months. Sherry Owens waited tables. She’s got no patience with that HDF crap.”
“Where’s Bill now?” Tucker eyed the kitchen doorway and reached for his gun.
“Not working tonight, but I can get you his address.”
Gibson nodded, and the bartender gave him directions. “I had to drop him off one night because his car broke down,” the barkeeper explained.
“If he shows up here, call me.” Gibson handed the man his card and motioned for Dawson and Grady to follow him outside. The deputies were gone, and so were the rest of the customers—every car except for Denny’s truck and the black ’Vette.
“Which of the Kings are you?” Gibson asked, looking from Dawson to Grady.
“I’m Dawson, and he’s Grady.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Gibson shook their hands, and Tucker did the same. “You heard our introductions. Gotta say, I was surprised to see you here. Didn’t figure it to be the kind of place to give you a warm welcome.”
“Those assholes roofied Grady’s brother and damn near killed him. They tried to make it look like an accident, and when the first time failed, they sent someone to the hospital to fuck with Knox’s medications,” Dawson replied.
“We got a tip that Knox came here the day he got drugged, so we thought we’d have a look for ourselves.” Dawson grimaced. “And found a bunch of HDF sons of bitches. Christ—no wonder Knox almost got killed.”
“So now we know who roofied him—but not who set him up or why,” Grady chimed in. “That’s why we’re here. Why are you?”
An unspoken conversation seemed to pass between Gibson and Tucker, and Dawson guessed they were debating how much to say.
“Right now, I don’t think our case is related to what you’re working on,” Gibson said. “So I’d rather not drag you in since it sounds like you’ve got enough on your plate. If that changes, we’ll find you. And if you need us, call.” He handed Dawson his card.
Dawson and Grady drove away before any of the bikers could come back with reinforcements. “What the hell do you think that was about?” Dawson asked when they had put enough distance between them and The Maverick to feel certain they hadn’t been followed.
“Can you be more specific?” Grady snarked, nursing a split lip and what might be a black eye. “The bar fight or the feds?”
Dawson shifted in his seat, wincing at the shallow cuts that made his shirt stick to the drying blood. “I think the HDF part is pretty clear. I don’t think the bar owner or the bartender was involved in drugging Knox. My bet is on the kitchen help—the new guy. Let’s add his name to the ones Denny’s hacker friend is looking into.”
“He figured out that the dishwasher came from Knox’s store and broke it on purpose? Why?”
Dawson shrugged. “Maybe the service call was legit, and something happened after Knox was there—he might have seen or overheard something. Or the kitchen guythoughtKnox did and panicked.”
“I don’t get it. There’ve always been scum like the HDF and the SPS, but they used to stay in the shadows. Now, they’re coming out of the woodwork,” Grady replied. “What changed?”
“Cody and Max told us about how up in New York, the Alliance is investigating a trafficking ring that kidnapped shifters and people with special abilities. Steve and Kyle helped stop that warlock out in Boone who was part of some sort of witch network,” Dawson mused, mentioning some of their hunter friends.
“Maybe that’s shaken up the players enough for them to jockey for position. If a couple of people—or creatures—at the top got knocked off their thrones, everyone else tries to level up. And groups like the HDF and the SPS figure their targets are more vulnerable than usual, so they go for the kill,” Grady finished for him.
