The Long Road Home

Chapter Six

Five Years Later

Fin breathed a straggled sigh as he looked at the small town he had been sent to by the private investigator. Of all the P.I.’s he hired, Roy Austin had the best success rate and came highly recommended even if he was particular about the cases he agreed to take. Fin still vividly remembered their first interview.

* * *

“So, you want me to find your brother, or is it the money you are most concerned with?” Roy asked, relaxing in the seat he had been offered.

He was getting up there in years and more than once considered retiring. In his younger days, he was an investigative reporter for a tabloid of all things, but those days were far behind him now. The skills he used as a reporter translated well to those of a private investigator and his background gave him a unique perspective, especially when it came to finding missing people.

Rich people certainly had a lot of problems, most of which involved finding someone. His success earned him a list of rather privileged clientele, and they had no issue extolling him to their friends. Roy now possessed a reputation that allowed him to pick and choose his jobs, and he had a strict code.

For instance, he would never help an abuser find their victim. Men in power seemed to think they were above the law and common decency. He took great pride in reminding them they weren’t. Roy was fully aware his attitude often rubbed people the wrong way, but he didn’t particularly care. After all, they were the ones coming to him for help. They could stand to be a little humble.

“I couldn’t care less about the money,” Fin shook his head. “Gus is my twin brother, and I want to make things right. I owe him an apology and a comeuppance.”

“All right, so tell me about him.”

Fin hesitated, “Well, he’s older by almost twenty minutes, and he’s always been the responsible one. He’s a chess and math whizz.”

“What about his likes?”

“Uh. He likes the usual, I suppose? He was on the debate team and math decathlon, I guess. He was in track and field, I think. He wasn’t really into sports.”

“Fine, but what was he passionate about?” Roy asked.

“Why does that matter?”

“Because people are creatures of habit. They don’t go out of their way to enter uncomfortable situations. They seek out places where they can be at ease. What makes a person comfortable is quite different from one another, which is why knowing their likes and dislikes are important.”

* * *

Fin didn’t have much of an answer for that. It pained him to suddenly admit how little he knew about his brother. Roy had refused to take the case until he could provide more information, leaving Fin at a loss for what to do next. Twenty years later, Fin was finally able to provide him with more information.

Roy had actually laughed, declaring, “Now, that is something I can use.”

Fin wasn’t certain what exactly he expected, but after a mere five years, the phone rang, and he had his answer: found him. Considering how cold the trail had gotten, he probably should have been more impressed. Roy sent him pictures as proof along with the pertinent information. His brother was alive and well, living in Ohio of all places. What was more, he had joined a motorcycle club. Fin couldn’t believe it.

His brother, Gus Kimball, the prodigy, was part of a motorcycle gang? Fin had done his own research into the Hell Hounds MC, but he was only more confused than before. As far as he could determine, the Club was not a part of any illegal activities despite the fact it practically ran the small town they had taken over.

Once he had finished making his preparations, Fin headed to the airport. He had to see his brother and, if possible, help him out of whatever jam he evidently made for himself. Of course, that was assuming Gus was even willing to hear him out. Twenty-five years was a long time for desperation and resentment to fester.

Following the address provided by the P.I., he drove to the MC’s headquarters. There, he found a large compound enclosed in an insurmountable fence. The only point of entry was one gate manned by a rather intimidating guard.

Just what was he supposed to say to allow him access?

He didn’t have a password or access code. If he gave them Gus’s name would that be enough to get him inside? Or perhaps it would somehow put his brother in danger. Though Fin hadn’t found any information on illegal activity, there was still too much secrecy surrounding the Club for his liking. What if they were holding his brother hostage?

If that was true, what was he supposed to do? There wasn’t exactly a handbook for dealing with a biker club. With a deep breath, Fin put the car into drive and headed for the gate. Silently, he rehearsed his speech as he pulled up, and the guard headed his way.

“Can I help you—P-Prez! I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize the vehicle!” the guard stuttered. “I’ll get the gate. Everyone is waiting inside!”

Fin sat, momentarily stunned. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but he could hardly complain as the gate was opened. What did the guard call him? Prez? Was that short for something? And how could they possibly be expecting him?

Regardless, he had been allowed inside. Fin cautiously drove up the drive. There were several buildings: storage sheds, garages and what seemed to be offices. It all appeared organized, leaving Fin more confused. The main building was a ranch-style structure with several vehicles, including motorcycles, parked alongside. Hesitantly, Fin parked his rental alongside the rest and made his way to the front door.

The interior was surprisingly neat and clean, considering its occupants were bikers. Fin followed the noise toward the back door. There, he paused as the backyard echoed with the sounds of happy birthday!

A little boy, not much more than five, blew out the candles of his birthday cake to the excitement of the crowd. There were dozens of bikers, all wearing a cut that displayed the name of the Club. It seemed to be some sort of uniform. Even several of the women wore them. Did biker clubs really allow women?

Fin’s gaze returned to the boy. There was something about him that unnerved Fin, something uncanny. Frowning, he looked at the man holding the boy and nearly fell over.

Fergus?!

Fin could hardly believe it. After twenty-five years, Gus hadn’t changed at all, or perhaps that was incorrect. He was smiling and relaxed. Fin couldn’t recall a time his brother looked so happy. After the boy blew out his candles, Gus lifted him up and kissed his temple.

“What did you wish for, Jake?”

“A baby sister,” the boy declared, earning a hardy laugh from Gus and the brunette in close attendance.

“We’ll see, son,” Gus roughed the boy’s hair.

Son?

Could it be?

“F-Fergus?” Fin stuttered.

The noise of the crowd fell silent. Gus’s easy expression suddenly hardened, and he turned to look at the brother he hadn’t thought about in over two decades. The look of fury that crossed his gaze was nothing new to Fin though he had hoped for a kinder reception.

“Daddy, who’s that?” the boy suddenly asked as the gathered crowd stared in stunned silence.

It was a long moment before Fergus finally answered, “Jake, this is your Uncle Fin. Fin, say hello to your nephew, Jacob.”