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Rachel looked at her and for a second Abby was sure she saw panic in her mother's eyes. Just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.
Rachel took a breath and smiled. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be looking at your work files, Scott.” She patted Abby’s hand on her arm, then backed away from the table.
Scott raised his hands. “I shouldn’t have left my laptop open.” He walked over to the laptop and shut it down. “Some of them might look familiar if you were following the news a while back. Their clubhouse in Sydney burned down a few months ago when an undercover operation went pear-shaped.”
“Are they relocating to this area?” The alarm was back in Rachel’s voice.
What was going on? Why was Rachel so concerned about an outlaw MC gang?
“Let’s hope not,” said Scott. “I can’t imagine the Road Gypsies would take kindly to that.”
Something registered in Abby’s mind that the Road Gypsies were a biker gang based around this area. What she couldn’t understand was her mother’s reaction to another gang’s photos, and why Scott would be looking at biker gangs in the first place?
“Since when does Robbery and Serious Crime investigate outlaw motorcycle gangs?” she asked, brow furrowed. “Isn’t there a taskforce set up for that?”
“Ricochet,” said Scott. “Which belongs to the Criminal Groups Squad.”
Abby shook her head, her original question still unanswered.
Scott glanced up from the table. “Sorry, we don’t investigate biker gangs unless there’s a cross-over with one of our cases. My boss just sent me this file because one of the main players was spotted in Lennox Head the other day. He wanted me to keep an eye out until they could send someone from Ricochet.”
Abby heard her mother inhale. “Who are these people?” she asked.
“The Devils MC, established in 1972, known for running drugs and killing anyone who gets in their way. There was also a recent incident overseas involving this club and a Victorian crime syndicate.”
“And now they’re in Lennox Head?” The area had its fair share of crime, but Abby hated the thought of her hometown becoming the headquarters for a club like The Devils.
“That’s what Ricochet would like to know.”
“Who?” Rachel’s’ question came out as a strangled whisper.
Abby and Scott turned as one to look at her. Why would her mother want to knowthat? Rachel’s face had become paler, if that was at all possible.
“Um, let me see.” Scott opened his laptop and the images appeared again. “Brodie Jones.” He pointed to a man with a buzz cut and a raised scar above his eye. From what Abby could see of his shoulders and chest, the guy obviously worked out. She looked back at her mother, watching her scrutinise the screen.
“Apparently he just flew in from France, after chasing a club member that went AWOL,” said Scott.
“Maybe he’s just here on holiday?” Abby asked.
“Not sure biker’s take random holidays and besides, the rest of them have set up down in Broulee,” said Scott.
Abby frowned. “On the South Coast?”
“Yeah, about an hour south from Mum and Dad’s.”
Rachel had moved away from the laptop and was standing with her back to them, sipping on her water. Why was she acting so weird? Abby glanced back at the screen. One image grabbed her attention.
An older man, who looked to be in his fifties or sixties, despite his jet black hair and matching handlebar moustache, caught her eye. He had tattoos all over the skin she could see on his neck. His eyes were dark and sinister looking. There was something oddly familiar about him.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“James Page, a.k.a. Zep, the current President of The Devils MC,” Scott replied. “From the file Ricochet has on him, he’s one cold son-of-a-bitch. He’s suspected in a laundry list of assaults and murders, not to mention the drug importation business he heads up.”
“If you know all this, why isn’t he in jail?” asked Abby, peering closer at the laptop.
“Ricochet can’t get anything that will stick. They had a guy inside, but his cover was blown.”
Abby jumped as glass shattered. “Mum!”
