Page 2 of Doc
It should have felt alien, this place my blood relation had called home.Instead, deep inside me, something whispered recognition.As if some part of me had been waiting to find this place my whole life.
The doorman nudged me forward with a hand that could have wrapped around my entire upper arm.“This way.”He guided me deeper into the clubhouse.“They’re waiting.”
I followed, clutching my mother’s research to my chest, aware that I was crossing a threshold I could never uncross.Behind me, I heard someone say softly, “Mary-Jane’s kid?Jesus Christ.”
They’d known my mother then.At least some of them had, and they’d stayed away all these years.Just as Bats had intended.
The thought steadied me as I walked toward whatever waited ahead.I wasn’t just Nova Treemont anymore.I was Mary-Jane’s daughter, Bats’ niece.And I had questions that needed answering, no matter how dangerous the answers might be.
The back room was darker than the main area.Five men sat around a table, their faces half in shadow, their cuts marking them as the officers of the Dixie Reapers.I stood before them, a girl in jeans and a cardigan, feeling like I was facing a firing squad.But I’d come too far to falter now.
The doorman who’d escorted me in gave a brief nod to the man at the head of the table before stepping back, positioning himself in front of the closed door.Message received: I wasn’t leaving until they decided I could.
“So,” said the man at the head of the table.His neatly trimmed gray beard and dark eyes seemed sharp beneath heavy brows.The patches on his cut read,President -- Savior.“You claim to be Bats’ niece.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.“IamBats’ niece.My mother was Mary-Jane Treemont, his younger sister.”
A muscle in the President’s jaw twitched.“Bats was a brother to us for a long-ass time.Never once mentioned a niece.”
“He was protecting me.Keeping his family separate from… this life.”
One of the other men -- younger, with a Vice President patch -- snorted.“Convenient story, sweetheart.Got any proof?”
I unzipped my bag and pulled out a small photo album, sliding it across the table.“Page three.That’s my mother and uncle at her college graduation.”
I watched as the President flipped to the page, his expression unchanging as he studied the photo of a much younger Bats with his arm around my mother.
“Could be anyone.”The VP’s tone lacked conviction.
“Check the next page,” I said.“That’s from my parents’ wedding.My mother, my father, and uncle.”
The President studied the photo longer this time before passing the album to the man next to him.It made its way around the table, each man taking a moment to examine the proof of a side of Bats they’d never known.
“So you’re his niece.”The President slid the album back across the table.“What do you want from us?”
I took a deep breath and placed my folder on the table.“My parents died several weeks ago in what was ruled a car accident.Their car went off the road.Police said my father lost control.”
“And you don’t believe that.”The VP watched me with narrowed eyes.
“No,” I said firmly.“I don’t.My mother was an investigative journalist.She was working on a story.”I opened the folder, spreading out newspaper clippings and photocopied notes across the scarred wood.“She was investigating connections between Magnolia County officials and organized crime.Money laundering, illegal gambling, possibly human trafficking.”
The men exchanged glances, their expressions giving nothing away.I’d honestly expected some sort of reaction, especially since this was happening in their territory.My uncle had always been clear that while he might be an outlaw, some things weren’t tolerated.
“Three days before she died, she called me,” I continued.“She said she’d found something big.Something that would blow the whole thing wide open.She wouldn’t tell me details over the phone, said she’d show me everything when they came to visit that weekend.”My voice cracked slightly.“They never made it.”
I pulled out a copy of the police report, pointing to highlighted sections.“The accident report says the car was traveling at high speed, that my father lost control.But my father never drove fast.He was cautious, meticulous.And the witness statements are vague.No one actually saw the car go off the road.”
“Accidents happen.”An older member with a gray ponytail watched me intently.“Doesn’t mean someone killed your parents.”
I met his gaze directly.“After the funeral, our house was broken into.Nothing valuable was taken, but my mother’s home office was ransacked.Her computer was gone.All her files.”
That got their attention.The men straightened, exchanging glances that spoke volumes.
“I managed to salvage these.”I gestured to the documents on the table.“She kept backups in a safety deposit box.But it’s not everything.There are references to evidence she had that I can’t find.”
The President leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.“And what exactly do you expect us to do about this, Ms.Treemont?”
“I’ve tried the legal route,” I said.“I’ve been to the police, the FBI, even a private investigator.No one will touch it.The case is closed.”I swallowed hard.“My uncle -- Bats -- once told my mother that if she ever needed help,realhelp, she should come to his brothers.That you take care of your own.”
