Page 66 of Legends Luke

“It’s possible,” Jackson admitted. “But what other motive would they have?”

Luke listened as his family discussed what Drummond’s past decisions and actions showed them of hismodus operandior method of committing his crimes. Luke’s anger had settled to a quiet simmer as his brain started working through all the questions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex signing something to Jackson, and he turned his attention to his brother to translate. Alex suffered damage to his vocal cords during his military service. He was able to hear what was said to him, but he wasn’t able to speak any louder than a hoarse whisper. He chose to speak rarely, instead using American Sign Language or a voice app on his phone to communicate. Since Jackson knew ASL and could translate, Alex signed freely in front of them.

“Alex asked how deep you took the background check into Drummond.”

Luke scowled. “Enough to know he’s a dirtbag. He’s got a record, but anytime I tried to go back farther than the last few years, I hit a roadblock, and I didn’t see a reason to keep going.”

“We didn’t have any luck asking questions and showing his picture in any of the towns they hit,” Jackson added.

English paused in bringing his coffee mug to his lips. “My friend didn’t have any luck either. He thought Drummond’s name was familiar, but he wasn’t able to find any relevant intel to explain why.”

“Didn’t you say he had a second address on file?” Easton asked. “Anybody check it out?”

“Tater did,” Jackson replied. “It’s an empty lot, and no one could remember what used to be there.”

“What was the address?” English asked.

“It was in Mount Fairfield, on Corkscrew Trail. Public records said it was a single-family dwelling dating back to the Civil War, but there’s nothing but a field there now,” Luke explained.

English was silent, holding his mug in mid-air. Becky Lathan stepped out of the bar’s kitchen with a tray in her hands and set it in the middle of the table.

“I figured y’all might be hungry. It’s nothing special. Just some ham and cheese sandwiches, but you need to keep up your strength.”

“Thanks, Becky,” Jackson said as he reached for a sandwich. He settled his gaze on English, who looked so lost in thought he didn’t notice Becky’s arrival. “What’s up, Gish?”

“I don’t know. Something about the address…Corkscrew Trail. It’snot something you hear all the time, and I think I’ve heard it before.”

“What?” Becky froze as she stared at English, her face losing all color. “Why would you say that? Why would you bring it up?”

English returned her stare, and then as realization dawned, he slammed his mug on the table. “Shit!” He stood so suddenly his chair rocked back but stayed righted. “Becky, sit down before you fall over.”

“Becky, are you all right?” Reagan asked her, covering the woman’s hand with her own.

Becky only had eyes for English. “I thought you were talking about the girl and the robbery gang. Why would you talk about me without me knowing? Why would you even bring it up? We haven’t talked about it in a long time. You should have warned me.”

“We weren’t talking about you. I swear. I had forgotten about the place, or I would have warned you. You okay?”

Becky drew in and released a shaky breath. A rosy hue started to return to her cheeks. “Yeah, I…I wasn’t expecting to hear that again, not after all this time. Is he connected to this?”

The rest of them watched in curiosity as English shook his head. “He’s still in jail, where he’s going to stay. But there’s a connection to an address on Corkscrew Trail. Used to be a house but now it’s an empty field. That’s all we were talking about, Becky.”

“He’s telling the truth, Becky,” Reagan reassured her. “What is it about the address that has you bothered?”

“Maybe you should go upstairs and rest,” English interrupted. “Alex, do you mind taking Becky, Reagan, and Jax upstairs to my apartment for a little while?”

“Don’t treat me like I’m fragile,” Becky protested. “I was just surprised. What’s the address?”

“It doesn’t matter. Becky, go with Reagan and Alex upstairs. There’s no reason for you to be involved in this.”

English reached to help her to her feet, but Becky pushed him away. “Stop it, English. I’m fine. Tell me how Corkscrew Trail is related. At this point, I deserve to know.”

“What’s going on?” Easton demanded. “It sounds like we’re talking about an old black-and-white Western or something. What’s the big deal with Corkscrew Trail?”

Becky’s eyes lost their life, replaced with a hard shield none of them had seen her use before. “You boys know I was with a man who abused me. He used to drug me and then lend me out to his friends for sex. Well, to get his drugs, he used to pimp me out to a man who lived on Corkscrew Trail. The man was crazy. He almost killed me more than once. I was pretty messed up when English pulled me out of that life. My so-called boyfriend and his friends used to joke that they needed to make a trip to Corkscrew for me to get screwed. They thought they were really funny. Bastards.”

“I’m sorry, Becky,” Easton said. “Maybe you should sit this one out.”

She redirected her gaze to Luke. “What’s the address? I need to know.”

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