Page 108 of Ink's Devil

“I’m sorry we didn’t get there sooner.” I school my features again, this time into an expression of regret.

“You did the best you could.” Patsy’s comfort in my direction means I’m the one now filled with guilt. “Where is he?”

“We brought his body back. He’s at the crematorium.” Well, by now I hope a suitable someone’s body is.

“I want to see him, see for myself.”

“Sorry, Patsy. It’s best if you don’t. He… he’s not very pretty. He was beaten pretty badly. Keep your memory of him intact so you can remember him as you last saw him, not as he is now.” I’m crossing my fingers hoping I can persuade her.

“What was the actual cause of death?” Beth seems intent on torturing herself. Her words might be coming out in the right order, but she’s trembling, clearly having trouble holding herself together.

“Loss of blood from penetrating trauma caused by multiple stab wounds,” I say quickly, as I pass over the right paperwork that they’ll need to arrange the funeral. “I’m so sorry, Patsy, Beth.”

Patsy reads the death certificate, then puts it down beside her. I notice her hand is violently shaking. “I disowned him when I knew he worked for his father,” she says, her words punctuated by sobs. “Now I just want him back. I should have tried harder to keep him in Pueblo.”

“Hey.” Leaning forward, I take hold of her hands, trying to still her trembling. “I doubt there was anything you could have done to change how things turned out. He was what, eighteen when he decided he wanted a change of scenery? No talking sense to a man of that age.”

“I should have tried harder,” Patsy repeats.

I spare a look for Beth, she’s weeping silently. It’s more disturbing than if she was making a sound. She mumbles something, I struggle to hear it. I ask her to repeat what she just said.

“I should have gone to the cops. They might have found him sooner. I didn’t.” Beth’s voice at last gets louder. “I didn’t go to them when he called me, nor later because I’d have had to admit we’d been storing drugs. I didn’t want to make it worse for Ink. I sacrificed my brother, and Ink’s still locked up.”

“You didn’t sacrifice anyone,” I say sharply. “You were not the one to yield the knife. You thought if you did what they asked for, that you’d keep him alive and safe. Not down to you he ended up dead.” I try to make it easier. “If it makes any difference, the men who did this went further than they should.” Which is true. “Killing him was a mistake.” Well it would have been, had they actually done so.

Hell, I’m an enforcer, not a therapist. I’ve made it worse not better.

“A mistake? A fucking mistake? My brother’s death was a mistake?” Beth spits out. “You think that makes it any easier?”

“Who did it?” Patsy asks, suddenly. “Who killed my son?”

Do I admit her son’s father was there? I decide that might be too much, so limit myself to the information I was told at the time. “A man called Alder.”

“Alder?”

“You know him?” I ask sharply.

“Phil’s brother-in-law.” She stops her sobs long enough to speak through gritted teeth. “If he was in on it, Phil knows about it, those two were always as thick as thieves. My ex-husband killed his son.” Patsy looks like she could commit murder herself.

Well fuck. I’d tried to spare her that knowledge. “Do you really think he’s capable of that?”

“Oh God, I don’t know.” She’s crying again. “There could have been a rift between him and Alder. I haven’t had anything to do with him for almost two decades. Perhaps Connor got caught in a dispute between the two of them?”

I decide to stay dumb. I don’t want to make matters worse, or admit I’d been talking to her son.

“Do you have anything else to tell us?” Beth looks a mess. Her face is red, her eyes swollen, but she’s casting worried looks toward her mom. “Because if you haven’t, I’d like you to go.”

“No.” I’m not surprised to be dismissed, Beth and Patsy need to grieve together, and not in front of someone they barely know. I might not want to stay, but feel I’ll be remiss if I don’t offer my brother’s woman support. “Oh, this is the funeral home where he is. If you need help with the arrangements, just let me or Demon know.”

“The Devils will help?” she says, scornfully. “Connor and I have put Ink in jail, I doubt your club wants anything to do with us. You’d probably rather dance on his grave if Ink gets the maximum sentence.”

At that moment I wish I could come clean to her. To explain what we’re doing and why. But as her brother is essentially dead to her, and has to remain so to stay alive, there’s nothing else to say.

“Just go, Mace.”

I might not have wanted to come. Might not have had a lot of time for the two women. Didn’t know what I expected, thanks for coming out of my way to give them the news? That sounds ridiculous.

But something doesn’t sit right with me as I ride away from that house. I’ve a feeling I’ve somehow failed Ink.

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