Page 82 of Rio's Release

Rio—

Zig and I stand in Saint’s Garage, sipping coffee and waiting.

After our visit to the sheriff the other night, we expect a visit from him. If he doesn’t keep his end of the deal, we should know in the next few minutes, because he’s supposed to be here by 10am.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, the man has fifteen minutes left.

“You think he’s coming?” Zig asks, his eyes on the parking lot.

The overhead doors are open, and Mauler and Bandit are bent over the engine of a car.

“Yep,” I reply, not worried in the least. “Were you able to get any info on the Devil Kings from the Evil Dead in Cali?”

“They reached out to their chapter in Birmingham. Apparently, they have a close relationship with the DKs in Georgia. Some kind of truce. Birmingham was going to reach out to them and see what they can find out about their plans for expansion out here. Haven’t got a response yet.”

“Keep on that.”

A squad car rolls into the lot, and Sheriff Torres climbs out, setting his cowboy hat on his head, then grabbing a briefcase.

I toss my coffee cup as he approaches.

He eyes the place. “You’ve set up a business, huh?”

Ignoring his obvious question, I jerk my chin. “Let’s talk in the office.”

Zig follows, leaning to tell Bandit something in a whisper.

“On it,” Bandit replies.

I lead us to the tiny office in the back corner and move behind the desk. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Torres sets his briefcase on the desk and pops it open, removing a single file folder and dropping it in front of me. “There are nine of them, going back almost a decade. These are only the ones who came forward. There were probably a lot more. He thinks I destroyed them all, but I kept copies. It was my ace in the hole if he ever tried to turn on me.”

I pick up the file and scan through the pages, Zig looking over my shoulder. There’s not a lot of information. No investigation was done, but they have copies of the hospital reports attached. “You have the rape kits?”

“He thinks I had them destroyed, but I’ve got them. Never sent them in for testing, though.”

“And you’ve still got them all?”

“Yep.”

There are some victims as young as sixteen. “How the hell did you let this fucking animal do this?”

“He had just as much on me. He knew about the payoffs. He could have hung me out to dry. He still could.”

I come across Shelby’s report and remove it.

“What the hell?” Torres barks.

“Shut the fuck up,” I snap, then take photos of each remaining report, wanting the names and addresses of the victim.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Insurance.” I drill him with a look, and he shuts up, easing back.

There’s a tap on the door.

“Come in.”

---