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“Pump-action shotgun, what length of barrel? Twenty-inch or thirty-inch?”

“Oh, a shorter one I think,” Tim slips in, and I’m not too sure of the relevance other than accuracy at a distance.

“Humph. You’re expecting your hit and run to try again?” The man looks closely at Tim and me. “What makes you think that?” I ask him, watching him closely.

“A handgun that you’re familiar with in the glove box, for a start, and a short-barreled shotgun is a defensive weapon better than a long-barreled which would be a good bird-hunting weapon. Your friend here was looking at gun racks for the rear of a truck earlier, plus I’ve been in this game for forty years, miss. I don’t miss much.”

Disappearing into a back room, after putting the Winchester back on the wall without me looking at it, we hear him muttering and stuff being moved around.

When he reappears, he has a satisfied smirk on his face. “Here you go. A Remington 870 shotgun and it only has a sixteen-inch barrel, so you’ll be able to wave it about in the cab of a truck without too much trouble. A lovely SIG that should keep you safe, too.”

Picking up the Remington 700, he slips it into the case he brought out too. As he does, I nudge Tim and eye the initials on the bottom of the case. There is a beautifully embroidered JG on the case.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what was your son’s name?”

Catching him off guard, he stops and looks at me questioningly. “My son was Jacob, Jacob Gardner. Why do you ask?”

“My name, Mr. Gardner, is Jamie Grant.”

“Oh. You’re a JG too, then. It couldn’t be more perfect, could it?”

After paying for everything, including a rack for the rear of the truck cab, we say our goodbyes and load everything into the truck. We travel back in silence, and we’re more than halfway home before Tim speaks. “You know he never charged you for the rifle, don’t you?”

“What? Of course he did. I paid on my card.”

“No. he didn’t. He never charged you for the rifle. He gave it to you as a gift.”

Grabbing my receipt, I run my eyes down it and see that Tim is correct. There is nothing on there in relation to the Remington 700 rifle. “Turn around. We need to go back. It must be a mistake. Turn around.”

“Jamie. The man has honored you with his dead son’s rifle and case. I don’t think he ever had any intention of you paying for it, but the initials were the confirmation for him you were the right person to have that rifle. You can’t go back and throw that in his face. You just can’t.”

Sitting there, I take in what Tim is telling me, and I’m sure he is right. I just didn’t see it coming. “Well, you need to get that rack in the back of this cab pretty damn fast. I want it on display for the world to see. We need to find a way to mount the case in here too. When it’s done, we’ll go back and show him.”

Chapter 10

*~* Ghost *~*

Spending time with your son should be every father's dream. If only that were so in my case. I wish I were anywhere right now but here. Thorn said he was going to give us a chance and see if getting to know me would help him with how his life has panned out, but he just can’t see past what he thinks he knows and what I actually tried to do.

When I left him to go on my mission to find the sixteen missing women, which I was ordered to do by the Pres of my old MC, I didn’t think I’d be gone for years. I thought that I’d put everything in place so he would at least have a good start in life without me being there for a while.

As it happened when I walked back into his life, I wasn’t expecting a ticker-tape parade, but neither was I expecting the hatred I encountered. My so-called friend has a lot to answer for.

We’ve been watching Senator Haroldson and his son, Stephan, for more than a week, and they have either turned over a new leaf, which I highly doubt, or they are lying low for some reason. I suspect the latter, and I think someone in an official capacity has been showing an interest in either their behavior or more likely, their finances. Hiding what you are doing is usually easier than hiding the financial gains, and the son has been splashing out lately on some expensive items. He has a garage full of exotic cars, not a cheap hobby. We found out that he has recently purchased a not-too-shabby ranch in the next state, and also a mansion on the outskirts of town where he’s moved his collection of cars.

“Hey, Ghost. Stephan is on the phone again.” Thorn has the parabolic listening device we’ve been using to keep tabs on their chatter, and he’s picked up some useful information from it.

“What’s he got to say this time? Anything useful, or is he just trying to spend more of his ill-gotten money?” I spit this out as it sticks in my craw that a supposedly upstanding member of the community can be such a lowlife. He’s spending money gained from other people's misery. It’s not just the young women’s lives that he ruins, it’s the families left wondering what happened to their wife, daughter, sister, and in some cases, mother.

“I’m not so sure the father is involved in all this shit. He’s not showing up on our radar. The son seems to call all the shots.” Thorn says this over his shoulder as he’s listening in, and I’m quick to take offence.

“You’re not so sure? How do you think the son got involved in the first place, then? He sure as hell didn’t get this up and running on his own. The senator would have dropped on him from a great height if his position of power, influence and his cash flow had been threatened. The father was the instigator of this trafficking ring of theirs, either by choice or coercion, but he was the mainstay of this operation. The son has just pushed the father to the sidelines, mark my words.”

“I disagree. You can’t be sure what’s gone on behind closed doors. In my opinion, we should take more notice of the son and leave the father out of this.” Thorn sounds convinced he is right and so I challenge his thinking.

“Exactly what are you basing your opinion on? Your extensive worldly knowledge of people in high places? Your personal knowledge of the Senator and his offspring? You have no idea what people in high places are capable of. They are the ones uniquely placed to break laws with no consequences. You’re also forgetting the intel we had before we started this surveillance.”

“Maybe their father and son relationship…”