evidence against her? There was also a photocopy of her passport and copies of some of her old arrest reports, but those were public records that didn't seem important. There weren't too many papers, so she shoved them into her jeans pocket.
She flipped through the rest of the folders, looking for Nithya's name, and she was elated to find it. Inside was a scan of a recent ID for Nithya Rao. A Flagstaff address was listed. That was a start. Nicola folded the paper and added it to her collection but was frustrated at the lack of further information in the folder. No dirt on the CDC? That didn't seem like Mom at all.
Unfortunately, she couldn't find anything in here relating to Doka.
Nicola quietly shut the drawer and opened the last one at the bottom. These were financial records: titles for motorcycles, the deed for the clubhouse under SSMC, LLC, and lots of tax forms. She was focused on looking for other files that were suspect, but nothing had the names Deborah Holton or Carlos Doka on them. Nicola shook her head. There had to be something else.
Then Nicola stumbled onto something interesting. It was a liquor license application for Sycamore Lodge. That was strange because the club didn't own the roadhouse. The listed name was a Regina Beale. Where had she heard that name before?
Nicola thought back to the incident that had first gotten her involved with Doka. She had tracked down the delinquent close to the border of Sanctuary. The roadhouse was the nearest building. At the time, she didn't think much of it.
The wolf racked her brain trying to think of a plausible theory. There was nothing special at Sycamore Lodge—she'd spent a lot of time there. There was an old farming bin out back but it only held rancid grain. It didn't make sense. Still, maybe there was something there.
In the distance, Nicola heard the muffled slam of the heavy front door of the cabin. Whoever was outside had probably come back in. Nicola had to take off. She closed the drawer and made a quick attempt to leave things as she had found them.
It was imperative that she got to Diego. Her search had revealed no direct evidence of any wrongdoing but she had possible leads. That had to be enough to buy good faith.
The president's office was in the back of the clubhouse. It was an easy walk from there to the exit. She creaked the back door open a peek and it was all quiet, so she slipped out, wondering if she would ever be welcome inside again.
iv.
"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"
The crisp voice spun Nicola around, and she jumped backwards at the sight of the police detective. Maxim was standing flush with the cabin wall, holding a gun with both hands steadily pointed at her.
The strength was back. Nicola could feel it building up in her wiry frame.
"I saw you duck away from the window," he said plainly.
Nicola looked around the clearing. The CDC woman wasn't here. No one else was in sight. But she didn't want any trouble. She wasn't about to attack a police detective, and she certainly didn't want to get shot.
"I didn't cut that cop," she said, pleading. "It was Doka."
Maxim remained calm and looked at her curiously. "That's funny. He said the same thing about you before the CDC got him."
What did that mean? If the CDC had already killed Doka, then what chance did Nicola have of surviving this confrontation?
She looked to the tree line. It wasn't that far away.
"I'm packing silver rounds," said Maxim. His hardened eyes didn't miss a beat. "I wouldn't try anything."
Holding the strength back was all she could manage. She needed to remain rational here. A wild animal wouldn't make for a sympathetic victim. But she balled her hands into fists anyway, if only to fight off the instinctual pressure. Nicola took a backward step.
"Listen," said the cop, lowering the gun ever so slightly, "I just want to talk."
"Is that why the CDC is here? You know what's gonna happen to me."
It was a statement that he acknowledged
She flipped through the rest of the folders, looking for Nithya's name, and she was elated to find it. Inside was a scan of a recent ID for Nithya Rao. A Flagstaff address was listed. That was a start. Nicola folded the paper and added it to her collection but was frustrated at the lack of further information in the folder. No dirt on the CDC? That didn't seem like Mom at all.
Unfortunately, she couldn't find anything in here relating to Doka.
Nicola quietly shut the drawer and opened the last one at the bottom. These were financial records: titles for motorcycles, the deed for the clubhouse under SSMC, LLC, and lots of tax forms. She was focused on looking for other files that were suspect, but nothing had the names Deborah Holton or Carlos Doka on them. Nicola shook her head. There had to be something else.
Then Nicola stumbled onto something interesting. It was a liquor license application for Sycamore Lodge. That was strange because the club didn't own the roadhouse. The listed name was a Regina Beale. Where had she heard that name before?
Nicola thought back to the incident that had first gotten her involved with Doka. She had tracked down the delinquent close to the border of Sanctuary. The roadhouse was the nearest building. At the time, she didn't think much of it.
The wolf racked her brain trying to think of a plausible theory. There was nothing special at Sycamore Lodge—she'd spent a lot of time there. There was an old farming bin out back but it only held rancid grain. It didn't make sense. Still, maybe there was something there.
In the distance, Nicola heard the muffled slam of the heavy front door of the cabin. Whoever was outside had probably come back in. Nicola had to take off. She closed the drawer and made a quick attempt to leave things as she had found them.
It was imperative that she got to Diego. Her search had revealed no direct evidence of any wrongdoing but she had possible leads. That had to be enough to buy good faith.
The president's office was in the back of the clubhouse. It was an easy walk from there to the exit. She creaked the back door open a peek and it was all quiet, so she slipped out, wondering if she would ever be welcome inside again.
iv.
"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"
The crisp voice spun Nicola around, and she jumped backwards at the sight of the police detective. Maxim was standing flush with the cabin wall, holding a gun with both hands steadily pointed at her.
The strength was back. Nicola could feel it building up in her wiry frame.
"I saw you duck away from the window," he said plainly.
Nicola looked around the clearing. The CDC woman wasn't here. No one else was in sight. But she didn't want any trouble. She wasn't about to attack a police detective, and she certainly didn't want to get shot.
"I didn't cut that cop," she said, pleading. "It was Doka."
Maxim remained calm and looked at her curiously. "That's funny. He said the same thing about you before the CDC got him."
What did that mean? If the CDC had already killed Doka, then what chance did Nicola have of surviving this confrontation?
She looked to the tree line. It wasn't that far away.
"I'm packing silver rounds," said Maxim. His hardened eyes didn't miss a beat. "I wouldn't try anything."
Holding the strength back was all she could manage. She needed to remain rational here. A wild animal wouldn't make for a sympathetic victim. But she balled her hands into fists anyway, if only to fight off the instinctual pressure. Nicola took a backward step.
"Listen," said the cop, lowering the gun ever so slightly, "I just want to talk."
"Is that why the CDC is here? You know what's gonna happen to me."
It was a statement that he acknowledged
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