The scrapbook was old, dusty, its pages yellow, the photographs and old newspaper clippings all dog-eared and crinkled. There were clippings dating back thirty years, when Tex had first joined the club. There were articles about fundraising rides and charity barbecues, articles about the crack down on motorcycle clubs in the area during the reign of Destiny’s toughest mayor back in the ’80s. There were wedding announcements, even one about my parents’ marriage, and of course, several clippings about the West Destiny High School shooting.
But the article that really caught my eye was one I almost missed. It was snagged on some old photo glue on the plastic page cover and had folded over. I opened it gently so I didn’t tear it and started to read.
“Girl Jumps To Death From Water Tower”
Destiny police are investigating the death of eighteen-year-old Talia Bennett who was found dead at the base of a water tower in the suburb of Clayton. It is believed, Talia slipped and fell from the tower in the early hours of this morning and was killed instantly. While there were no witnesses to the death, guests at a party at the nearby clubhouse of The Kings of Mayhem Motorcycle Club, say Talia had been drinking and socializing at the party before her death.
Police are continuing with their investigations.
There was a picture of Talia. She looked very young. Too young to be at an MC party, drinking and socializing.
I studied the photo for a moment. There was something familiar about her smile but I couldn’t place it.
“Hey, Dahlia.”
“Yeah, honey?”
I rose to my feet and took the scrapbook over to her. “Do you know anything about this?
She skimmed over the article but shook her head. “That must’ve been before me. Poor girl.” She pointed at the date. “Tex and I didn’t meet until the following year.”
“And Tex never mentioned it?”
She thought for a moment, but then shook her head again. “If he did, I don’t remember.”
I nodded. “I’ve never heard anything about it either.”
“Tex probably didn’t know her or what happened.”
I agreed. It wasn’t odd for Tex to have kept that article, after all, it seemed he had kept everything club related that had appeared in the newspaper.
“Did you want to keep the scrapbook?” I asked.
“Give it to the club. Might be a nice thing to add to the showcase.”
The showcase was where they displayed club memorabilia, like Hutch Calley’s dust off helmet and dogtags, old cut styles, and an impressive display of historical club photos.
I tucked the scrapbook into the space behind the driver’s seat of the truck, then set about helping Dahlia sort through the rest of Tex’s stuff. It was a task that kept us busy right through to suppertime, and I was right, when it came to lugging old motorcycle parts and some of the heavier boxes, having two very big bikers close by came in handy.
But no matter how busy we were, no matter how distracted I got, there was no forgetting about the young girl who had died a sad and tragic death at the base of the water tower. And the sneaky suspicion that the Kings knew something about it.
Something niggled inside of me. Something I didn’t understand. Something that told me I needed to find out what happened to the girl at the bottom of the water tower.
“Who was Talia Bennett?”
I had just walked into the house and found Cade shaving over the bathroom vanity.
He looked at me through the mirror on the wall, pausing as he searched his memory for the information. Then he shook his head and went back to shaving. “Who is who?”
“Talia Bennett.” I opened the scrapbook to show him the old news clipping, and pointed to the grainy picture of Talia. “This girl here.”
“Wow, what’s this you’ve got?”
“It’s a scrapbook Tex kept of all the news articles about the club.”
“Cool. I wouldn’t mind having a look at it.”
“Are you avoiding the question?” I eyed him suspiciously.
But he simply gave me a dismissive look and casually went on shaving.
CADE
Talia Bennett.
Jesus Christ.
I took a longer shower than usual, hoping to wash away the familiar guilt I’d felt when Indy had shown me the article. I’d acted nonchalant, avoided her questions and distracted her. But I knew Talia Bennett. And I knew what happened to her.
I didn’t want to lie to Indy. And I wouldn’t. But I wanted to think about what I was going to say and that meant remembering back to a really fucked-up time in my life. A time I didn’t like revisiting because it was just after Indy had left me and I was seeking more and more comfort in the club. And drinking.
And women.
Twenty years old—young, dumb, and full of cum.
Like I said, it was a really fucked-up time in my life when my head wasn’t screwed on right.