The Biker's Brother by Peter Edwards

Author:Peter Edwards
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Annick Press Ltd
Published: 2017-07-12T19:39:14+00:00

Chapter

18

I haven’t gotten any sleep today so it’s going to be a tough night shift. I keep picturing Jamie in jail, trying to play it cool when he must be scared out of his mind. I’m beat, and I could use a break, but I don’t expect to get it tonight. At least I should be able to do some research on the Popeyes during my shift. The Sun-Sentinel has access to some really good databases.

I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for, but I know I need to know more. Who is that big Popeye I keep bumping into, the one who makes the Annihilators so nervous? I’m also not sure how the Spartans fit into things. I can’t shake the feeling that they’re an important part of this puzzle. Their hometown, London, isn’t that far away, and while they might be a small club, they’re not timid.

I’m trying to draw on what I’ve learned in football. Our coaches are big on getting us to define our goals. Then we map out a plan to achieve them. It’s not enough to want something. You have to work for it.

What I want in life is so simple, but it feels so far away. Sometimes, late at night, I imagine that I’m the father in a family like Jake’s, a family where everyone is relaxed and loving and joking and where things don’t always seem on the verge of breaking into pieces. That’s my vision of success. Right now, though, I’d settle for my brother not being stuck in prison for the next quarter-century.

I get to work early, and on my way in, I see Bill, who’s on his way out.

“The prosecutor at the bail hearing said that there was some sort of police agent or informer,” I say. “I don’t get it. Why would they say something like that?”

“You need to stay out of that,” he tells me. His face has changed since the last time we talked about this; I have never seen him so serious before.

“But . . .” I’m sick of everyone treating me like I’m a kid.

“Seriously.”

He’s in no mood for an argument and he doesn’t seem to want to talk. He sweeps out the door, and a few minutes later, I’m at my workstation, ready to see what I can find on the databases. But there’s a note waiting for me, telling me to go and see the city editor. I haven’t talked to him since I was hired.

As I walk into his office I can see he has his “serious editor” face on.

“I understand you were at bail court,” he says. It sounds a bit like an accusation. I wonder if he’s also seen the photo of me at Trent’s funeral.

“Yes.”

“Your brother?”

“Yes.”

There’s something judgmental in his tone. I want to swear at him but instead I stare at a point on the wall, just above his right shoulder. He was a crime reporter himself long ago, I’ve heard, and I imagine he already knows I was at Jamie’s house when the arrest took place.

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