Page 51 of Race With The Devil

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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Unity was really carving it up Highway 17.

She had half an hour start on us, and Wolf and I were still speeding through Munds Park while she was in Kachina Village.

I knew all this because Wolf had finally called me while I paced anxiously in the pool room of the Bum Steer.

“She took off, Tanner. She split in sort of a huff.”

“A huff? What kind of a huff? Like, angry? Sad? Crying? Yelling?”

“Ah, sort of all four at once.”

But before I got a chance to angrily yell at Wolf, he added, “Never fear. I stuck a GPS tracker on her Sporty.”

Once again, I had to admit that the brainless moron was a genius. Wolf Glaser sort of teetered back and forth like that.

So, because none of her friends, or Knoxie or Wolf, could have convinced her I was a harmless, lovable old fool, Wolf came to the Bum Steer and I jumped in Beetle’s sidecar, the young gentleman himself hanging out at Knoxie’s.

There was no extra dome of obedience for me, but I wore Beetle’s goggles as we rode north. How did I go from a dashing pilot landing on the edges of vermilion cliffs to a lidless dude in a dog’s sidecar? It was in keeping with the drastic ups and downs of my life. Tracking down a pissed-off, tattooed cannabis model was pretty much par for the course, really.

I’d last felt this sense of brotherhood in the armed forces. The way the Bare Bones operated was along similar lines, and I felt right at home, especially with so many other former military—Knoxie, Ford, Fox, Sax. There was a tangible brotherhood to their monthly fish fries where brothers from other chapters came from all over Arizona to park in a sea of bikes out on the Citadel’s runway. Fables of these storied parties flew so frequently between brothers I almost wanted to stay on to attend the next one. Of course, I’d have to purchase a Harley . . .

I rode a rice rocket for a few years after getting out of the service before it became too impractical for transporting good dogs. I’d have to relocate Hang Town Ranch to somewhere in the vicinity of Pure and Easy’s red rocks, but that should be no problem. Maybe an old horse ranch. Then, when I realized I was thinking along these terms, I tried hard to become shocked at myself. What am I thinking? Join an MC at the age of forty-two? What about med school? Well, the U of Arizona wasn’t so far away. Oh law, what the fuck are you thinking, you fucking anusbrain? When would I ever sleep? I’d figure it out. A great deal of the need for being productive is the terror of things falling apart.

It seemed the faster we flogged it north, the farther Unity’s little icon on Wolf’s tracking app became from us. We skirted the ponderosa pines of Fort Tuthill Park where archers walked with bows just as Unity started to leave Flagstaff. Heading north on 180 toward the Arizona Snow Bowl. What the fuck was up there—

It struck me, maybe at the same time it struck Wolf. The tailpipes were too loud for us to yell at each other, but his mouth opened wide enough to admit flies when he glanced at the screen I held. I dropped my jaw, too, to tell him via sign language that was Unity was doing was highly sketchy and even death-defying. I was glad I had my piece, and glad Wolf’s Glock was securely stuck in his waistband.

She was heading to Tutti Morgan’s compound.

“Fuckola!” bellowed Wolf. Now that I could hear.

I mentally urged Wolf faster as we zipped past Lowell Observatory, heading north through treeless mountains. By the time we turned off on Tutti’s street, Unity’s icon had already been there for fifteen minutes. What the fuck can she possibly want there? What point is there in accosting Tutti? We were about to go find Lavinia’s body. Find the body first, deal with Tutti later.

Unity’s digital fingerprint led us right up to the gate, predictably closed. Wolf cut his engine the moment we saw that, as I would’ve done.

“Now what,” he said, flatly.

“Do you have wire cutters?”

“Course.” As if it were an everyday tool, Wolf dismounted from his saddle and whipped out a pair of wire cutters from his saddlebags. I removed my goggles and looked inside his stash. Taser, billy club, hammer, hunting knife, radio, anal plug, handcuffs . . . I wasn’t sure if his goal was to kill someone or take a cruise down the Hershey highway. Just to be on the safe side, I grabbed the knife and hammer.

“Walk your bike into those bushes,” I instructed Wolf. He didn’t question my plan.

When I’d been taking a piss behind that shed last time I’d been here, I’d noticed a gap in the tall wall that seemed to entirely surround the compound. Probably a service road, the gate must’ve been broken because someone had slapped up a few rolls of barbed wire to cordon it off. If not simple to unhook the wire fence from whatever hook it was on, we could cut it. As luck had it, the lazy workers had merely hooked the wire behind a couple of feeble nails. Night had fallen so abruptly I had to feel blindly for the nails. One thing Wolf didn’t bring was a flashlight.

I said, “There are no doubt security cams along the main drive, so let’s just approach through the bush.”

“What’re we going to do, sneak into the house? Eavesdrop? Get the lowdown on the caper? Or we could just act natural, like we’re wondering what Unity is doing up here. Say we just followed her.”

We wove through manzanita shrubs and succulent agave, royal purple flowers standing out brilliantly against the twilight tints of grey. Wolf resembled a Jewish infantryman, clanging with tools dangling from his utility belt, his profile stoic and noble. He’d kept his dome of obedience on, one of those that looked like a WWI helmet. I had to say one thing about the guy—nothing fazed him.

And I really had no plan. “I figure we look in windows until we find them. Who knows? Maybe Unity had some totally innocent reason to visit Tutti.”

“To get alone and isolated with the guy who murdered her friend? I doubt it, man. I think she was off her rocker with grief.”