Chapter 4 - THE TIGHTENING NET
By midnight, the town of Oakridge felt vastly different.
Rain had begun to fall, slicking the asphalt streets and reflecting the amber glow of the streetlights. Outside the damaged Silver Saddle Diner, yellow police tape fluttered in the damp wind. Sheriff Miller—a tall, stern man with graying temples—stood on the sidewalk conferring with Marcus and Brenda.
"Richard Vance thinks he owns this county," Sheriff Miller said, chewing on a toothpick, his eyes narrow with disgust as he looked at the shattered glass of the diner. "I knew he was dirty, Marcus, but vandalizing a local business and threatening a single mother? He's getting desperate."
"Desperate men make mistakes," Marcus said, standing under the brim of his leather cap, his coat soaked with rain. "Did the diner's security camera catch the guys who did it?"
"They wore ski masks," Miller replied, handing Marcus a printout of a security freeze-frame. "But look at the vehicle they drove away in. A black 2022 Ford F-150 with a custom chrome bull-bar and a dent on the rear passenger fender."
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. "That truck belongs to Ray Higgins. He's Vance’s head mechanic at the towing yard."
"I know it," Miller said bitterly. "Problem is, without a face on camera or a license plate number, Judge Henderson won't sign a search warrant. Henderson and Vance go way back—they play golf together every Sunday."
Brenda scoffed. "A corrupt judge, a corrupt principal, and a wealthy bully running the town. Classic small-town syndicate."
"We don't need a search warrant to find evidence, Sheriff," Marcus said calmly. "Ray Higgins is a coward who acts tough when he's holding a bat in front of a helpless woman. Put a little pressure on him, and he'll spill everything."
"Keep it legal, Marcus," Miller warned, though there was a hint of a smile behind his mustache. "I can't protect you if you break the law."
"We don't break the law, Sheriff," Marcus replied. "We just illuminate the truth."
An hour later, at the neon-lit Oakridge Bowling Alley & Pub, Ray Higgins was sitting at the bar, boasting to his friends about his "busy evening." He was three beers in, feeling invincible.
"Yeah, well, some people in this town need to learn their place," Ray laughed, taking a deep swig of beer. "You can't just bring a bunch of leather-wearing freaks into Oakridge and think you run things."
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the pub swung open.
The loud music and clinking glass in the bar instantly died down. Four tall figures stepped inside, their wet leather vests dripping onto the linoleum floor. Marcus led the way, flanked by Brenda and two other massive riders named "Bear" and "Tank."
Ray’s laughter froze in his throat. He set his beer bottle down, his hands suddenly clammy.
The other patrons in the bar quickly cleared out of the way as Marcus walked slowly up to the bar, stopping right behind Ray’s stool.
"Ray Higgins," Marcus said, his deep voice carrying through the quiet pub.
Ray tried to puff out his chest, turning around slowly on his stool. "Yeah? What do you want, old man? You're out of your element here."
Marcus didn't flinch. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small plastic bag, and dropped it onto the bar counter in front of Ray.
Inside the bag was a torn piece of red canvas with a distinctive grease stain.
Ray’s eyes widened in horror. He instinctively reached for his jacket pocket, realizing the tear on his sleeve matched the fragment in the bag.
"You dropped that when you smashed the front counter at the Silver Saddle Diner, Ray," Brenda said smoothly, leaning against the bar. "Along with a drop of your blood on the broken display case. DNA testing takes about forty-eight hours these days."
Ray panicked. "That... that wasn't me! You can't prove anything!"
"We don't have to," Marcus said softly, bending down so his face was inches from Ray's. "Because Sheriff Miller is outside right now with an arrest warrant for felony vandalism, commercial arson threats, and criminal intimidation."
Ray looked toward the front window and saw the flashing red and blue lights of two Sheriff's patrol cars pulling into the parking lot.
"Listen to me very carefully, Ray," Marcus whispered, his gray eyes burning into the mechanic's soul. "You're looking at five to ten years in state prison. Richard Vance isn't going to go to jail for you. The second you get locked up, he'll hire another mechanic and forget you ever existed. He'll let you take the fall."
Ray swallowed hard, sweat breaking out across his forehead. "Vance... Vance promised he'd take care of my legal fees if anything happened!"
"Vance lied," Brenda said coldly. "He's already shopping for a new defense attorney for himself. So you have a choice right now, Ray. You can go down for Vance's crimes, or you can turn state's evidence and tell the District Attorney who ordered the hit."
The bar doors opened, and Sheriff Miller walked in with two deputies, handcuffs ready.
Ray looked at the handcuffs, then at Marcus's uncompromising face, and finally shattered. "It was Vance!" Ray blurted out, his voice cracking with panic. "He paid me two thousand dollars cash! He told me to smash the place and leave the note to scare the woman out of town! I have the cash in my truck! I have the text messages on my phone!"
Sheriff Miller stepped forward, slapping the handcuffs onto Ray's wrists. "Ray Higgins, you are under arrest. Thank you for making my job easy."
May you like
As the deputies led the blobering mechanic out of the pub, Sheriff Miller looked at Marcus. "That gives us Vance for conspiracy and solicitation of a felony. But Vance has high-priced lawyers, Marcus. He'll post bail in an hour, and he'll claim Ray is lying to save his own skin."
"Let him post bail," Marcus said, zipping up his leather jacket. "Because tomorrow morning, we take this fight from the streets to the courtroom."
