Footsteps sounded behind me.
Bear stood in the doorway.
He looked at the spilled soup.
Then at the missing-person poster.
Suddenly, he seemed ten years older.
"So... you've seen it."
That night, he told me a story.
His name was Frank Hayes.
After returning from Vietnam, he founded the Iron Eagles Motorcycle Club.
His wife, June, gave birth to a daughter named Vicky.
Vicky was brilliant.
Top of her class.
She wanted to become a doctor.
But the older she got, the more she hated her family.
She hated the smell of motor oil.
The leather vests.
The tattoos.
She hated being called "the biker’s daughter."
When she was nineteen, she left with a wealthy medical student who had come to town for an internship.
She left behind a note.
"Don’t look for me. I never want anything to do
