Page 19 of Demise

“I don’t understand. He… He told me I took everything from him… That I’m the reason why he has nothing anymore. I assumed…”

“You assumed what?”

He pauses, his mind clearly reeling. “Fuck.” He shakes his head. “Was it not Trig this whole time? No, no, no.” He looks at me, pointing to his battered wrist. “The rubber band. The goddamn rubber band. He popped it in the cabin. I heard it.”

“Miles had one on his wrist. What did he mean by you took everything from him?”

He glances at me, his eyes holding so much confusion they look cloudy. “I really don’t know anymore. I thought it was because I’d told Moretti who murdered my parents when I was a boy. I thought Trig was connected to that somehow. I…” He rubs his forehead, lines heavily creasing it.

“Did you ever see the vehicle outside of the cabin when it pulled up?” I ask.

“No. I wasn’t able to. No windows in the front. Plus, I was tied to that fucking chair.” His jaw tightens at the memory. He runs his hand over the bandage on his wrist, and I take notice of the marks on his upper arms as well. “You’ve spoken with Trig then? Since he came by?”

“Yes. I thought it was him, too. He was acting strangely when you were away. Was gone for long periods of time, which, I mean, he has his own shit, but you know Trig. He’s always at the clubhouse.”

He nods.

“He got a truck, too. I went over to his house that morning, watched from afar, waited until he came out, and then I followed what I thought was him to the Barrens.” I feel a stress wrinkle between my brow. “Although, I never saw his face.” I look down, just as puzzled as I’ve been since the start of this.

Are we seeing this all wrong?

“Trig said Miles boosted the truck from him that morning. He has a gash on his head from where Miles whacked him,” I say.

“So, it all adds up, huh?” he says. “He either covered everything or he didn’t do it.”

“Hmm,” I reply.

“You don’t believe it?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know what to believe. He’s part of us. It…” I look down again.

“Yeah,” he says. “If it’s him, it’s fucking tragic because I’ll kill him.”

“Hmm,” I agree. We’re both quiet for a bit, pondering our own scenarios. Trig has no motive, but hedoesknow about Bexley. But fuck, maybe Mileswasreally following Samuel. Maybe that was his main target. Miles was a junkie idiot. He was stupid enough to do this, but not smart enough to do it alone.

“What puzzles me is the attack on Bexley. No one knows about your obsession with the woman but us three and your family.”

“Obsession?” he says, his dark eyes tightening.

I lift my shoulder.

He lets it go and I see his thought trail somewhere new and those stress lines resurface.

“Moretti knows,” he says.

I lift a brow.

“He threatened me. Told me to stay away from her. It was after Mickey got hit, back when we were running moonshine.”

I narrow my eyes, feeling tension between them. “You thinking he had something to do with this?”

“You tell me. How has the man been acting since I’ve been away?”

I shrug. “He’s been staying in Atlanta a good bit. He paid the cops to look for you, but you know these cops in Postings. They could give a shit you were missing, and he wasn’t here to keep an eye on the investigation.”

I recall my findings in his office. I run a hand over my overgrown beard and move away from the window, taking a seat on the sofa.

During Bones’ absence, Moretti had been acting strangely. On one of our Atlanta trips, I noticed him speaking with a man named Ruel at Club Red, the most thriving nightclub on the East Coast and also our hub for dealing cocaine from Miami.

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