The door shuts behind him, and I jump as the sound echoes through the room. My dad takes the middle seat, and my mom and I the ones on the outside. His jaw twitches beneath his beard, the only sign of nerves or anger I’ve seen on him. Minutes morph into an agonizing wait until finally the door opens. My mom sucks in an audible breath, and my dad grips my hand and pulls it to his thigh.
A slender guy wearing a tan suit and glasses, with dark hair that’s thin on top, steps into the room first. “Mr. and Mrs. Langley.” He nods to my parents and turns to me. “Miss Langley.” Another nod. “I’m Charles Yarner, Mr. Dusinsky’s lawyer.”
Okay, so Hatch’s last name is Dusinsky. Not the most threatening biker name, I have to admit.
Neither my parents nor I do more than give a quick acknowledgment.
Two guards move through the door followed by two others. The last two flank a shackled Hatch. His face is still riddled in fading yellow bruises from the beatdown Rex delivered, and it looks like his nose is at a different angle from what I remember. His bright orange suit makes his large frame less intimidating, and his shaved head and face make him almost unrecognizable.
Hatch keeps his eyes cast to the floor as they move him to the table and deposit him in the bolted-down seat. I hear a clicking sound as Hatch’s hands are manipulated behind him and handcuffed to his chair. Once done, the guards back away, but take stations at the four corners of the tiny room.
“Mr. Dusinsky has agreed to—”
“Charlie, I got this.” Hatch’s growled command is followed by the lift of his chin as he finally manages to look me in the eye. Remorse is heavy in his expression and his eyes soften. “Hey, sunshine.”
My dad clears his throat, and Hatch’s lips twitch before turning toward my parents.
“Mr. and Mrs. Langley.” He shifts in his seat as much as he can while being locked to it.
“Feel good?” The question flies from my lips before I think better of it.
Hatch’s eyebrows drop low, questioning.
I shrug one shoulder. “Being handcuffed to a chair. How’s it feel?”
He doesn’t drop his gaze from mine. “Not good.”
Good.
“Mr. Dusinksy, we don’t want to draw this out any longer.” My dad speaks with a firm voice that calls the attention of the room. “We’re here because we’re interested in everything you know about the night our daughter was murdered.”
My mom’s answering whimper causes my chest to seize.
Hatch makes an affirmative grunting noise and, sitting tall, addresses my dad. “Figured as much.” He eyes the guards then starts in. “I was working my first job with Elijah. We’d met before. I saw he was a bad dude, considered his crew partnering with my MC.”
He sits back, his eyes focusing just over our heads. “I was meeting with a new contact. Pulled my bike off the road and stashed it in the bushes at mile marker sixty-nine. It was private, dark, no witnesses, the way Elijah liked shit done.
“Doing a pickup with a dude who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Left his bike right there on the side of the road. Tried to make the deal quick, but he put a gun to my head and tried to take the shit he owed me plus the money. I was halfway to killing the asshole when a woman walked up.”
“Svetlana.” I can see it now, bike on the side of the road. She probably heard the man’s cries of pain.
“We were in a gorge. Didn’t even hear her pull up or see headlights. She asked if we needed help. It was dark, but I saw the moment her eyes figured out what she was seein’ wasn’t fucking legit. She started to back away, and the fuckface I was beating begged her to get help. I couldn’t let that happen.”
My dad leans forward, his arms on the table, and Hatch’s eyes dart to my father’s tattoos. “Are you telling us she witnessed you murder a man?” My dad’s voice cracks with the truth.
Hatch sets his cold blue eyes on him, and there’s respect in them. “Yes, sir.”
My head swims with the intensity of the terror she must’ve felt. “Then what?”
He shrugs, the casual body language contradicting the twist of shame I see in his face. “I had to take her. Planned on scaring the shit out of her enough to keep her from talking. Elijah had different plans. Thought he’d use her to seal our partnership.”
I shift in my seat, antsy, angry, and horrified. “How does that work?” Elijah mentioned something similar the night he died.
“Do something horrific; anyone who bears witness is just as responsible. We had each other by the balls.”
Silence sweeps through the room as we all work out the story on our own.
“Did she suffer?” My mom’s timid voice breaks the thick air.
Hatch’s eyes move between my parents and me, a silent question blaring as loud as if he yelled it. Do you want me to lie?
My chin bobs once, the tiny movement so minor it’s only registered by Hatch. He turns to my mom. “No, ma’am. Not at all. She was gone before . . .”
Before the cutting started.
It’s a lie.
But I appreciate it more than I can express.
“You partake in this?” My dad’s voice is steel.