Page 33 of Trapper Road

I pull out my computer and log into an old email account. It’s one I created when I came home from Afghanistan — when I learned about my sister’s murder and decided to pour my energy into taking down Melvin and Gina Royal. It’s full of emails between me and Miranda Tidewell and others who became the initial members of the Lost Angels. The Sent folder bulges with nasty messages I sent to Gina, threatening her and her family.

The entire account is a record of those dark years when I was filled with despair and rage. I’ve considered deleting it several times, but that feels too easy. I can’t simply wipe away this part of my past. I can’t hide from who I was and what I did. I have to own that shame.

I run a quick search and easily turn up Leonard Varrus’s contact information. I take a deep breath and hold it a moment before blowing it out. Leo wasn’t like a lot of the other Lost Angels — he wasn’t interested in feeding off of everyone else’s pain. He just wanted to be a part of a community of people who understood what it was like to lose a loved one in such a horrific manner.

Leo rarely got involved in discussions of retribution. He never beat the drum of revenge. Going after Gwen and her family never interested him before.

Clearly, something changed. Still, I hope there’s something left of the reasonable man I once knew. When it comes between choosing an old friend or protecting my family, there’s no question. I will do anything to keep my family safe. If that means going after Leo, so be it.

I click on Leo’s phone number and press send. He picks up after three rings. “Sam Cade. I was wondering when you’d get around to calling. How have you been?”

“Cut the bullshit, Leonard. You know why I’m calling.”

“Do I?”

“You’re threatening my family. I want you to stop.”

“I thought your only family was killed by that monster Melvin Royal.”

He means my sister. It’s clear he’s trying to get under my skin. I can’t let him. “You know who I mean,” I grind out between clenched teeth.

“Oh, are you referring to Melvin Royal’s lover? And his two spawn who carry his monstrous DNA?”

“Fuck you, Leo.”

He chuckles. He’s enjoying this. It makes me even angrier. “Tsk tsk tsk, that temper of yours, Sam. It’s going to get you in real trouble one day.”

I shake my head. I’d known Leo for several years when I was involved in the Lost Angels. He was a nice man — kind and compassionate. Nothing like the man on the other end of the line now. “Why are you being such an asshole? You’ve never been like the others who spiraled into self-destruction.”

“You knew me when Miranda Tidewell was still alive. Things have changed.”

I’m surprised at the level of emotion in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry for your loss bu—”

He cuts me off with a cackle. “Seriously? You’re going with that tired line? Give me a break. Your sympathy means nothing to me seeing as how you were the one who caused her death.”

“I had nothing to do with her death.”

“That’s not what the FBI report says. According to them, you had a front-row seat to her murder. Though if you ask me, you had a much more active role than that.”

I know what he’s talking about. Ever since Miranda’s death there have been rumors that I killed her, and my friend Mike Lustig with the FBI covered it up. “I didn’t kill Miranda,” I tell him, although I know my denial is useless. He won’t hear it.

“Admit you wanted her dead.”

I sigh. I should hang up the phone and stop indulging him, except that I’ve been where Leo is. I know how the rage and the pain takes over until there’s nothing left. I feel sorry for him, that he’s still living a life filled with such darkness. If there’s any way I can reach him, any way I can pull him out of the hole, it’s worth trying. “I didn’t want her dead.”

“But you wanted her out of your life.”

“Of course I wanted her out of my life! Miranda Tidewell was poison. She infected everyone and everything she touched. Me. Apparently you as well. I mean, look at what she’s done to you, Leo. You used to be a decent person. Now you’re just bitter and spiteful.”

“Miranda Tidewell was a good woman. Loving. Passionate. Kind.”

I can’t help but bark a laugh. “She was a snake.”

This makes him angry. “You have no right to talk about her that way. Not after everything she did for you. She took you in. She comforted you. That’s what she did; it’s who she was. If anything you should understand what I’m going through. I was nothing — an empty shell — before her. She made me start to feel again.” His voice breaks on that last part.

Now I understand. “You were in love with her.”

He says nothing, but he doesn’t have to. It’s obvious. This explains why his rage and despair have grown since her death. He’s lost another woman he cared about deeply to murder. I shake my head. It isn’t fair. No person should have to endure such loss.