Chapter 8
1765 Words
Chapter Eight
The Truth Has Teeth
The recording stopped.
For several seconds, Emma couldn’t breathe.
Her grandmother’s voice still echoed inside her head.
Your father didn’t die because of an accident.
He was murdered.
Her hands trembled in Ghost’s.
“My father was murdered.”
Ghost squeezed her fingers.
“I heard her.”
“Then why didn’t anybody tell me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Everybody knew.”
“Emma—”
“My grandmother knew. Your family knew. The club knew.”
Her voice cracked.
“And I was the only person who didn’t.”
Ghost didn’t defend himself.
That somehow hurt more.
Emma pulled her hand away and stood.
“I need air.”
Ghost rose immediately.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
He stopped.
She looked at him.
“For once, Ryder, let me walk away without following me.”
His jaw tightened.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
Emma walked out.
⸻
The clubhouse porch was nearly empty.
Morning sunlight was beginning to break over the trees, turning the sky pink and gold.
Emma sat on the steps.
She had spent years grieving her father.
Years believing his death was a horrible accident.
She had cried at his funeral.
She had blamed herself for not being there.
She had replayed every conversation she’d ever had with him, wondering if she’d missed some sign.
Now she knew.
Someone had murdered him.
And somehow, her grandmother had known.
A door opened behind her.
She expected Ghost.
Instead, Bishop stepped outside.
He sat beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them.
“Your father was a good man.”
Emma looked at him.
“You knew him?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Bishop sighed.
“Because I was there the night he died.”
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
Bishop stared at the yard.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
“Apparently nobody is supposed to tell me anything.”
He nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
Emma turned toward him.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know everything.”
“Tell me what you do know.”
Bishop rubbed his hands together.
“Your father came to the clubhouse that night.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to talk to Silas.”
“About the weapons?”
“Probably.”
“Did he know what Silas was doing?”
“Yes.”
Emma swallowed.
“What happened?”
“Silas and your father argued.”
“Then?”
“Your father left.”
“Alone?”
Bishop hesitated.
“No.”
Emma’s heart hammered.
“Who went with him?”
Bishop looked directly at her.
“Ryder.”
Her eyes widened.
“Ryder was with my father?”
“Yes.”
“But he told me he never saw him that night.”
Bishop looked down.
“Ryder didn’t remember.”
“What does that mean?”
“Someone hit him.”
Emma froze.
“Who?”
“We never found out.”
“Where?”
“Behind the clubhouse.”
She stared at him.
“Why didn’t Ryder tell me?”
“He couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t?”
Bishop nodded.
“He had a concussion. He was unconscious for almost two days.”
Emma’s anger began to crumble beneath something else.
Pain.
Confusion.
“Then what happened to my father?”
Bishop’s face hardened.
“We found his truck near the old mill.”
“The mill?”
“Yes.”
Emma remembered Cole’s meeting.
Tomorrow night.
The old mill.
Her stomach twisted.
“What happened there?”
Bishop looked toward the trees.
“That’s where the story changes.”
⸻
Ghost found Emma twenty minutes later.
She was standing near the motorcycles.
“Bishop told me.”
Ghost stopped.
“About what?”
“My father.”
He looked away.
“What did he tell you?”
“That you were with him.”
Ghost’s face tightened.
“I was.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t remember.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“I woke up in the hospital. My head was split open. I couldn’t remember the last several hours.”
“You were with my father.”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“Do you remember anything?”
Ghost hesitated.
“Pieces.”
“Tell me.”
He looked at her.
“I remember your father arguing with my dad.”
“What did they say?”
“Something about a shipment.”
Emma swallowed.
“And then?”
“We left the clubhouse.”
“Where?”
“The old mill.”
Her heart sank.
“You and my father?”
“Yes.”
“What happened there?”
Ghost closed his eyes.
“I remember a car.”
“What kind?”
“Black sedan.”
“Who was driving?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then?”
“I heard a gunshot.”
Emma’s breath caught.
“Was my father shot?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there!”
“I know!”
Ghost’s voice broke across the parking lot.
He immediately lowered it.
“I know, Emma.”
He looked devastated.
“I’ve spent ten years trying to remember.”
She stared at him.
“Did you see him die?”
“No.”
“Did you leave him?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer hurt.
But she could see the truth in his eyes.
He genuinely didn’t know.
Then Ghost reached into his pocket.
“I have something.”
He pulled out a small metal object.
A key.
Emma frowned.
“What’s that?”
“It was in my pocket when I woke up.”
“Where does it go?”
“I don’t know.”
She looked at the key.
A number had been stamped into the metal.
17.
“Locker seventeen?”
Ghost nodded.
“Exactly.”
“Where?”
He looked toward the clubhouse.
“The old bus station.”
Emma stared at him.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Before we meet Cole?”
Ghost nodded.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
He looked directly at her.
“I think someone wants us to find that locker.”
Emma’s stomach twisted.
“Why?”
“Because the key was never meant for me.”
⸻
That afternoon, the clubhouse became strangely quiet.
Everyone knew something was coming.
Ghost spent hours preparing the club for the meeting with Cole.
Emma sat at the bar with Lena.
“You okay?” Lena asked.
“No.”
Lena nodded.
“Fair answer.”
Emma stared into her coffee.
“Did you know about my father?”
Lena hesitated.
“I knew there was something.”
“Everyone knew something.”
“Not everyone.”
Emma looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
Lena sighed.
“Ghost didn’t know the whole story.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I watched him destroy himself trying to figure it out.”
Emma looked away.
Lena continued.
“He drank too much. Rode too hard. Started picking fights he couldn’t win.”
Emma’s chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Because he thought you hated him.”
She looked back.
“Did he deserve it?”
Lena gave her a sad smile.
“Probably.”
Emma laughed bitterly.
“At least someone is honest.”
“But he loved you.”
Emma’s smile disappeared.
“I know.”
“That’s the problem.”
⸻
Night fell quickly.
At 10:30, Ghost appeared beside Emma.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She looked at him.
“Good?”
“Means you’re not reckless.”
He handed her a jacket.
“Put this on.”
She did.
They left through the back entrance.
Bishop waited with two motorcycles.
Ghost looked at Emma.
“Stay close.”
She nodded.
The ride to the old bus station took twenty minutes.
The building had been abandoned for years.
Broken windows.
Graffiti.
Weeds growing through cracked pavement.
Ghost parked beneath a dead streetlight.
Emma climbed off.
“Where’s locker seventeen?”
“Inside.”
They entered.
The smell of dust and rust filled the air.
Rows of old metal lockers lined the wall.
Ghost counted.
“Fifteen.”
Sixteen.
Then seventeen.
He pulled out the key.
Emma stood beside him.
“Whatever’s in there…”
Ghost looked at her.
“We face it together.”
She nodded.
He inserted the key.
Turned it.
Click.
The locker opened.
Inside was a cardboard box.
A photograph.
And a small red notebook.
Emma picked up the photograph first.
Her breath caught.
It showed her father.
Silas Callahan.
And…
Grandma Ruth.
All three standing together.
Emma stared at it.
“No.”
Ghost looked over her shoulder.
His face went pale.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because that photograph was taken the night your father supposedly died.”
Emma turned the photograph over.
There was writing on the back.
THE FOURTH PERSON KNOWS THE TRUTH.
She looked at Ghost.
“The fourth person?”
He nodded.
Then a sound echoed from the far end of the station.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Emma froze.
Ghost reached for his weapon.
“Who’s there?”
No answer.
Another footstep.
Then another.
A figure appeared at the end of the hallway.
Emma couldn’t see the face.
The figure stopped.
And smiled.
Ghost’s hand tightened around his gun.
“Come out.”
The figure stepped into the light.
Emma’s heart stopped.
She knew him.
Not personally.
But from the photograph.
The third man standing beside her father and Silas.
Marcus Vale.
The man everyone believed was dead.
He smiled.
“Hello, Ryder.”
Ghost stared at him in disbelief.
“You’re dead.”
Marcus laughed softly.
“That’s what they wanted you to believe.”
Emma stepped backward.
“Who are you?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Your father’s last friend.”
Then he looked at Ghost.
“And the man who knows exactly why your brother disappeared.”
Ghost raised his weapon.
“Where’s Cole?”
Marcus smiled.
“He’s waiting.”
“Where?”
Marcus’s expression darkened.
“At the place where everything began.”
Then the lights in the bus station went out.
A gunshot exploded.
Emma screamed.
Ghost grabbed her.
And somewhere in the darkness…
someone whispered her name.
“Emma…”
It was her father’s voice.
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