Buried Biker (18 page)

“I don’t usually have to get tested,” I said. Although Mr. Ramirez could change that any time.

“That’d be unusual,” she said, but she kept looking. “You’re right. I wonder why?”

I wasn’t sure that was really a question, but I said, “I don’t have a history of drug abuse.”

“If you say so.”

Clearly she didn’t believe me, but why should that bother me? She filled in a few things on the computer and printed me off a receipt.

Don’t let the nerves show, I reminded myself, trying to keep myself from fidgeting.

Then she got to her feet to escort me back to Mr. Ramirez’s office.

There they were. Two uniformed cops. They were in the hallway, just beyond the water fountain but before the door to Mr. Ramirez’s office. One of them was holding a set of handcuffs, jiggling them.

As the receptionist stepped aside to let me precede her, I tried to relax the muscles in my shoulders and take a few deep, regular breaths.

Behind me, her heels clicked on the linoleum floor.

I ducked my head as I went past the cops. Did I think they wouldn’t recognize me? My wrists itched in anticipation of the feel of cold steel clamping.

When we passed them, they didn’t move.

Now the back of my neck was itching, but I knew better than to look back. I eased into the doorway of Mr. Ramirez’s office.

The receptionist turned and her heels clicked in the other direction, then stopped.

“The guy you’re looking for is the only one left in the waiting room.” She had to be talking to the cops in the hallway.

“Thanks,” one of them responded. “Be easier to get him if no one else is there.”

I practically fell into the office out of relief.

Mr. Ramirez sat in his ancient wooden desk chair, tipping his huge bulk so far back that I wondered why he didn’t tip over, chair and all.

“Sit down, Jesse,” he said.

I did so, lowering into the peeling plastic chair on the other side of his desk.

“You got anything you want to tell me?” He tapped his yellowed teeth with the eraser of a pencil.

“Nothing I
want
to tell you.”

He raised his bushy graying eyebrows until they practically met his slick black hair.

“But I guess I got things I
ought
to tell you.”

He nodded. “Smart decision.”

No point in not telling him everything. Any part he didn’t know, he could find out easily enough. And he most assuredly would. Always a good idea to have any bad news to a parole officer come directly from the parolee. Otherwise he’ll wonder what else I was trying to hide.

“Well, first of all, I got locked up on Friday night.”

Montgomery had been in touch with him about that. “Tell me about it.”

“This girl I been seeing sometimes, Kelly Mathias, I don’t know if I’ve told you about her?”

“I know a little bit. She works with you. Go on.”

“She got raped. And I got picked up for that.”

“Did you do it?”

That stung, but what did I expect? “No.”

“Were you charged?”

“No. She couldn’t talk to the cops at first, but when she could, she told the cops it wasn’t me, it was this other guy, Razorback. So they cut me loose.”

“And who is Razorback?”

“Somebody she knew through her dad, who just got released from prison. He’s using her place as his home plan. So I’ve been staying away from her place.”

“Razorback is his street name, I take it?”

“Yeah.”

“You know his real name?”

“No.”

“And where is this guy now?”

“I dunno. Nobody seems to have seen him around.”

“Know anything else about him?”

I said, “He’s a registered sex offender.” I wasn’t telling him anything he couldn’t find out easily enough.

“I take it he’s not at his registered address?”

“Probably not. They’d’ve picked him up if he was.”

Mr. Ramirez nodded. “So he’s in violation.”

“Yep.”

“Anything else I should know about?”

I licked my lips. “Kelly’s dad—they call him Old Buckles—he says he’s trying to figure out what really happened to her.”

“Old Buckles is a street name again, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Interesting names.”

“Well, they’re bikers.”

“Belong to a club?”

“Yeah. Predators. You know about them?”

He frowned. “I do indeed. And you shouldn’t be hanging around them.”

“That’s why I been staying away from Kelly’s place. ‘Cause her place is her dad’s home plan for parole.”

“What do you think really happened to her?”

I fidgeted in the seat. “Hard to say.” I didn’t want to go into it, but I figured I’d better. “There’s a rumor that Razorback and I had an agreement to swap women.”

He paused and put the pencil on his desk. “And did you?”

“No, sir. I wouldn’t speak for Kelly. I been trying to stay away from the Predators. And I never had anything to do with Razorback’s old lady, Black Rose.”

“So who’s spreading these rumors?”

“That’s what I don’t get. Black Rose.”

“And what exactly has she been saying?”

“That her and me had sex. Then when Razorback tried to make good on the deal with Kelly, she tried to fight him off.”

He nodded. “And you didn’t sleep with this Black Rose woman?”

“No, sir.”

“Why would she say something like that if it wasn’t true?”

“I got no idea.”

“Who believes her?”

“Just about everybody she’s told, I think.”

“Has she told that to Kelly?”

My chest tightened, and I looked down at the floor. “Yeah.”

“And does Kelly believe her?”

My eyes were suddenly damp. “Yeah. She don’t want no more to do with me.”

“Well, if she thinks you told some biker he could have a go at her in exchange for you screwing his lady, why wouldn’t she be mad at you?”

“I understand that.” I wiped my eye with the back of my hand. “What I don’t understand is why she’d believe I’d agree to something like that.”

Mr. Ramirez rocked forward in his chair, his short but broad body moving with alarming speed until his chunky hands landed on the desk in front of him. He picked up a pen and chewed on the end. “You really care about this Kelly person, don’t you, Jesse?” he asked.

I took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”

“So it’s unlikely you’d agree to a deal like that? Especially with someone you
know
is already a sex offender.”

Not trusting my voice to hold steady, I nodded. I
hadn’t
known that about Razorback, but I wouldn’t have agreed anyhow.

“Do you think she’d say you’d been stalking her?”

Lord. That had never occurred to me. “I hope not. I stayed away from her after she told me she didn’t want to see me.”

“When was that?”

“When I went to see her in the hospital.”

His bottomless black eyes narrowed. “And that was after Detective Montgomery told you not to do that?”

Obviously they’d been talking. No point in me denying it. “Yes, sir.”

“And since then?”

“Since then, what?”

“You called her? Sent her text messages? E-mailed her?”

“No. I got a phone at home, but I don’t got a cell phone, and I don’t know how to do e-mail.”

“You got a computer?”

Even if I had any notion how to use a computer, I could never afford one. “No.”

“You been staying away from convicted felons?”

“As much as I can.”

Mr. Ramirez took a manila envelope from a drawer and emptied several photographs on the desk. “Want to tell me about these?”

My stomach cramped, and bile rose in my throat. I hoped I could keep from throwing up. Swallowing hard, I looked at the pictures.

In the first one, there I stood, practically leaning on the handlebars of Old Buckles’ trike. In the background were several other Predators. It was a good bet that most, if not all, of them were convicted felons. And a good bet he got the pictures from Carissa.

“That’s Old Buckles,” I said, pointing at him in the picture.

“I thought you weren’t going over to your girlfriend’s house because he was over there.”

“Well, yeah.”

“But you’ll meet him in a park known for hooker pickups and drug sales?”

“He came and found me as I was getting off of work.”

“You don’t get off of work
here
. And it’s not on your way home. As a matter of fact, nestled like it is against the fence around the railroad tracks, it’s not on the way to
anywhere.
”

“Old Buckles met me outside work. I was afraid the company would be mad at me if the bikers were hanging around, so I asked him if we could move. This is where he chose.”

“He and the other gang members rode their bikes over there. How did you get there?”

I looked off to the side. A big calendar with red X’s through the days that had already passed was on the wall. I wondered if today had been X’d out yet.

Mr. Ramirez leaned forward. “Well?”

“Old Buckles gave me a ride.”

“On the back of his bike?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Interesting way to stay away from convicted felons.”

Miserably, I shrugged.

“But you know, I’ve looked at these pictures. And I don’t see you doing anything you shouldn’t. Not taking the smokes, which I’d bet are blunts. Not fighting or looking threatening. And I spoke to the young woman from the newspaper who took them. She said she didn’t see you do anything, either. You know who she is?”

I nodded. “Carissa.” She didn’t care how much trouble she caused for anyone else. If I saw her again, I’d have to just turn and walk away.

“So you know her?”

I swallowed hard again and tried to keep my hands still. “Not really. She says she wants to write a story or something about the Predators.”

“What’s that got to do with you?”

“She asked if I could take her to the clubhouse.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That even if I knew where it was, I didn’t think that was a good idea for her to go there.”

Mr. Ramirez drummed his stubby fingers on his desk, staring past me. Finally he said, “You’ve got to realize I’m not happy with the things you’re getting involved in.”

I took a deep breath that hurt my chest. “Yes, sir.”

“Stay away from those bikers. And if a woman doesn’t want to see you, stay away from her, too. Even if you think you could explain things to her and change her mind. She’s got a right to not be bothered.”

“Yes, sir.” He was right. I knew he was right. So why was it so hard to convince myself I needed to stay far away from Kelly?

He got to his feet. He stood about five foot two inches tall and about as wide around. “I’ll see you next week. Same time. And I hope you’ll be able to tell me you’ve managed to avoid these problems. Or we may have to rethink home detention. Or even parole violation.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

But I knew I wasn’t going to be able to let this whole thing go, even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t.

Chapter 11

B
EFORE
M
R
. R
AMIREZ
C
OULD
C
HANGE
H
IS
M
IND
, I hurried through the waiting room, which was filling up. Not stopping to put my jacket on, I took the stairs two at a time. When I reached the top, I took a deep breath of free air and slipped into my jacket. I cut through the full parking lot next to the police station and out onto the street behind the jail. Now would be a very good time to go home and stay there until I had to go to work.

Court was in session, and the curb was lined with cars, many of them on the super expensive side. Seemed like a lot of rich people had business in the courthouse.

A dark blue Audi cut across the street just in front of me and pulled up onto the ramp leading up to a loading bay at the rear of the building. A tall, lanky figure stepped out from behind the shrubbery and leaned into the driver’s window. The driver passed something to him, backed off the ramp, and peeled away.

There was something familiar about the slope of the man’s hunched shoulders.

“Willis?”

He looked up at me with panic in his eyes. “Who are you?”