Page 28 of Doc
The suitcase sat on the bed, packed and ready.I was doing the sensible thing, the right thing.So why did it feel so much like giving up?
* * *
I stood by the door, my suitcase heavy in my hand, heavier with the weight of everything I was leaving behind.The morning sun slanted through the apartment windows, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air like scattered thoughts.I’d said goodbye to this place a dozen times in my mind, each scenario ending differently -- with answers, with justice, with something I couldn’t quite name that had Doc’s blue eyes and steady hands.Instead, I was leaving with nothing but my mother’s files and the promise that someone else would finish what she started.
Doc emerged from the kitchen, a travel mug of coffee in his hand.“For the road.”He offered it to me.
Our fingers brushed as I took it, the contact lingering longer than necessary.The warmth of his skin against mine sent a familiar current up my arm, a sensation I’d have to learn to live without.I clutched the mug like a lifeline, breathing in the rich aroma.
“Thanks,” I said, my voice smaller than I intended.
Doc nodded, his gaze never leaving mine.He’d changed into riding clothes -- jeans, boots, his cut over a plain black T-shirt.His motorcycle waited out front, and he stood ready to escort me to the safe house himself.Hours alone on the back of his bike, my arms around his waist, my body pressed against his.The thought sent heat rising to my cheeks.
“We should get moving.”Despite his words, he made no move toward the door.“Long ride ahead.”
I nodded, unable to find words past the lump in my throat.This wasn’t goodbye -- he’d visit the safe house, continue working the case -- but it felt like an ending.The past few days hit hard, every moment of danger and vulnerability sparking a connection between us.But I worried that fire would burn out once they locked me in some anonymous house three towns over.
The sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway broke our standoff.Doc tensed, his hand moving instinctively toward the weapon I knew he carried beneath his cut.But the man who appeared in the doorway wasn’t a threat -- it was Venom.His breath came in short bursts, like he’d run all the way from the clubhouse.
“Got something you need to see.”
Doc stepped aside to let him in, exchanging a questioning look with me.Venom wasn’t part of the current leadership, but his decades with the club commanded respect.
“Just got word from one of our contacts at the sheriff’s department.”Venom pulled a burner phone from his pocket and set it on the counter.“They’ve been monitoring communications since the attack.”
He reached into his cut and pulled out a sealed evidence bag.Inside, a jagged-edged piece of a police report looked torn from a larger file.The plastic crinkled when he handed it to me.
“Thought you should see this before you go.Might change things.”
I set down my coffee, taking the bag with trembling fingers.The partial report was clearly official -- sheriff’s department letterhead, case number, date stamp.My eyes scanned the document, heart rate accelerating as words jumped out at me.
“Oh my God.”I ran my finger over my mother’s name printed in black and white.“This mentions my mother by name.”
I pointed to a section where the text read:Journalist M.J.Treemont claims evidence of systemic-- before being cut off by a thick black redaction line.My gaze darted to the date stamp in the corner.
My hand reached instinctively for Doc’s arm.“Look at the date.Three days before.She went to the police with evidence.She tried to do this officially.”
Doc took the report from my hands, his expression darkening as he read.His jaw tightened, the muscles twitching visibly.
“This confirms what we suspected.Your mother tried to go through proper channels first.Someone inside the department buried it.”
“And then buriedher.”Cold reality settled in my bones.
Doc looked up from the document, meeting Venom’s eyes over my head.I’d been telling them what my mother had discovered, why I thought she’d died, but it seemed this is what it had taken for people to truly pay attention.I could tell this was a game changer for the club.
“And you got this from a contact?”Doc asked Venom, his tone sharper than I’d heard him use with another club member.
Venom shifted his weight, glancing between us.“Yeah, like I said.Contact inside the department.Someone who owes us.Said he found it buried in a locked file cabinet when they were digitizing old reports.Never made it into the system.”
“Which means someone wanted it hidden.”The pieces began clicking into place.“Someone who knew what my mother had found.Someone who ordered her killed to keep it quiet.”
Doc’s eyes returned to mine, the professional distance he’d been maintaining all morning finally cracking.I saw concern there, but also understanding.He knew what this meant as well as I did.
“I can’t leave now.Not with this.”I tightened my hold on Doc’s arm.
“Nova,” he began, but I shook my head, cutting him off.
“No.Even though I’ve told all of you over and over, this is what your club needed to see.For the Dixie Reapers, this is proof my mother went to the police.Proof there was a cover-up.”My voice grew stronger with each word.“If we can find what evidence she brought them, we can expose everyone involved.”
