Westly stared down at the city. The midafternoon air was pleasant and warm. His feet were propped on the stone picnic table. The little time of peace would have been perfect, save for the loud roaring of the highway. It was the first climb of the interstate before the road traveled into the mountains. The loud grind of people pushing up the hill tore all the peace of the lofty mountains away. The park was small. A little slice of grass off the exit for dogs and kids while the parents got food and gasoline. He clutched his hand tightly, praying he had not made a mistake in telling Myron about the theft.

The case was missing something. If Myron was unaware of the theft that meant RMCA wanted to frame the Wolves for the kid’s murder. Yet he was staged in the manner more fitting for the RMCA. Neither group seemed high on Olenick’s radar or visa versa. The kid was killed in the early morning hours, yet no one saw or heard him leave. Westly felt as if there was an outlier he had not factored in, but he could not decide what that might be.

His daydream was broken by the loud crackling sound of a paper bag landing next to his head. He was grateful it was not a gunshot as he originally thought. Holly sat next him, biting into a large hamburger.

“They didn’t have oil and vinegar, so you’ll have to make do with Thousand Island,” she said in between bites.

“Did you ask?” He mumbled.

“What do you think?” She gargled.

Westly sighed.

“Nearly every place has olive oil and vinegar,” he snipped.

“Wes, it’s a burger joint off the side of the highway. I am surprised they even had a salad for you,” she said, annoyed.

Westly cracked the plastic lid, slowly running his hand through each leaf of lettuce. He pinched a radish and began nibbling on it. Holly could spot the worry in his face.

“Everything is going to be fine. Buckley has uniforms looking for big guys with wolf tattoos on Harleys. He wasn’t too pleased you wanted to meet all the way out in Genesee though.”

“Saves me a trip,” Westly grumbled.

“Exactly. ‘You’ a trip.”

Westly ignored her and continued to nibble on the radish.

“What’s on your mind Wes?” She said, softer.

“This case. Something feels familiar and yet out of place. I don’t know.”

“Pike has been ducking the law for a long time this round he lost his temper and now we have him cornered.”

“Don’t you find it odd that Olenick didn’t want a harder look at Pike? It’s not like Pike is a member of his social club and having him out of the way would do Olenick some good.”

Holly shrugged.

“Maybe he didn’t want his family’s drug pipeline to dry up,” she said sarcastically

“Maybe,” Westly said, grabbing more of the salad with his fingers.

“They didn’t have oil and vinegar, but they did have a damn fork,” she said, tossing him a fork from the bag.

“This works fine,” he said, still taking handfuls of greens and thinly sliced chicken.

They continued to chew in silence when Holly sighed.

“What if he’s jerking you around?” She quipped.

“Buckley? Nah he’s just slow and-” Wes started.

“I mean Myron. He knows you went to the cops which his “boys” aren’t going to like, and he is going to have show a sign of power. This bullshit with the kid named Rutabaga-”

“Turnip.”

“Whatever, sounds like busy work to keep you out of the way. This way he doesn’t have to take revenge on you like he’s doing to Pike.”

Westly continued to chew.

“Since he lost Fiona, the club is everything to him. So, if he believes I can find his thief, I think I would be low on his list for people to take revenge on. I really believe that.”

“Let’s pray you’re right,” she mumbled.

As they continued to munch on their meals, a dark blue SUV rolled off the highway and turned towards their picnic table.

“Show time,” Westly mumbled.

The SUV came to a stop and Oliver stepped out of the passenger side. He looked worried and disheveled. The driver’s door clicked open and out stepped an older man. He was dressed in a dark gray buttoned shirt and charcoal sport coat. His shoes were worn brown boots that nestled evenly under his dark blue jeans. Fastened tightly to his belt was a golden badge that clearly read “Centennial Police.” He was bald, the back of his neck blending seamlessly with the front, giving him a “toe” like appearance. Even though he was older it didn’t seem like he was close to getting gray hair yet the meekly grown in stubble was coming in silvery gray. Clutched in his right hand was a manila envelope stained with coffee. He pushed past Oliver and made a beeline straight for Westly. Nearly halfway to the table he Frisbeed the envelope at Westly who was able to catch it but not before spilling his half his salad on the ground.

“You’re a son of bitch you know that Gibbons? I should lock you right now,” the man said in a gruff voice.

“But let me guess you left your handcuffs in your escort’s purse,” Westly mocked, brushing several leaves of lettuce off his jacket.

“This ain’t a joke you bastard. I got uniforms scouring all over Denver for any fights between the Wolves and the RMCA-” he growled.

“So basically, you told the uniformed police officers to drive around and look for crime? I am a little lost as to how that is any different than any other day,” Westly snipped.

“The difference is you! Your involvement! Any time I become involved on some case you are working on it is always a shit show.”

“I didn’t see you complain when you got the collar for Lincoln Page. Or half of Star’s followers. Or what about-” Westly continued before Oliver cut him off.

“Gentlemen I think we are getting off topic,” Oliver said.

Buckley growled and pointed to the envelope.

“Everything Webb had found on Olenick’s case so far. As you probably guessed, the leading suspect is Zackary Pike. History of violence. His ties to the RMCA’s crimes and a host of other reasons.”

Westly opened the envelope and began paging through the file.

“What is your current theory as to the motive?” Holly asked.

Buckley shoved his hand in his coat.

“Olenick’s got a decent chunk of land out in San Juan near Telluride. According to his attorney he was looking to sell it and Pike had reached out to him about buying the land. The two argued over price for months but in the end Pike underbid and Olenick opted to go with another buyer.”

“Did the lawyer tell you who the buyer was?” Holly continued.

“No. My guess is that’s because they haven’t closed the deal and if law enforcement starts sniffing around it might scare them off. But the lawyer did say Pike didn’t take the loss very well and promised Olenick he would regret his decision.”

“Holly look at this,” Westly interrupted.

He handed Holly the file and she began paging down.

“One of the proposed buyers was Lucas Yan. In the notes though it said he underbid as well and Olenick cut his losses. When was the last time you talked to him?”

Holly was taken aback. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

“I spoke with him this morning, he didn’t mention he was looking to buy land.”

“Lucas Yan? Why do I know that name?” Buckley said.

“He’s the CEO of Century Tundra Technologies. You know that environmental company based out of Centennial. They focus mostly on green circuitry in rural industrial plants. You see their logo everywhere up in the mountains,” Westly said.

“Oh, not to be rude but what is the significance to this case?” Buckley inquired.

“Perhaps Lucas can give us some insight as to Olenick’s other buyer. Like you said they are keeping it hush hush, perhaps they spilled it to convince Lucas to raise his bid,” Westly said.

“Yes, but the land is not important to the kid’s murder other than it ties Pike and Olenick together.”

“It also tells us what Pike is after and why. He is trying to frame the Wolves for the kid’s murder. He wants this sale to be completely legal with no one thinking foul play. If he was willing to go after Olenick’s son what is to say he wouldn’t go after this buyer as well. If Lucas has a name, we can get it from him.”

“On that note Gibbons, from what I know about Myron Baltic and his group of “motorcycle enthusiasts,” they don’t shy away from violence. How do we know they didn’t just kill Olenick’s son to show a sign of power?”

“Myron is a lot of bad things, but he refuses to kill kids. I watched him have the option and he didn’t take it.”

“So, you were buddy-buddy in his criminal activities and he has shown you he’s a stand-up guy? Is that right?” Buckley mocked.

“Keep it up Buckley. I made the same offer of my services to Quincy. She’ll happily take it just to screw you over,” Westly snapped.

Buckley held his hand up in peace.

“Alright so where is this large supply of Sunshine you promised me? Or am I wasting the department’s money again?”

“We are waiting for a white dough boy with purple hair. He’s a supplier and apparently, he gets his stuff from a facility up in Genesee. Hence why I am eating a salad on the side of the highway. Come to think of it CTT has facilities out here.”

Holly glared at him.

“You think his company is cooking meth?”

“I am saying they have a lot of chemicals and Pike and Yan have a common goal. Perhaps Pike is building his labs on CTT property. The underlings get busted, it is CTT that is on the hook not Pike.”

Holly ran her fingers through her hair.

“That is actually quite possible. I have to warn him.”

“Well hang on, let’s find our supplier and see if I am right. Oh, Buckley, anyone’s dealers come through the system with the name Chet?”

Buckley shook his head.

“Not that I can think of, but I will recheck when I get back to Centennial. Speaking of which, the wife is going to wonder where I am at. I want to be called the moment you hear something do you understand me?”

“Oh Buckley, Tell your wife you’re with Gabriella. Sure, it will be a lie this time.”

Buckley flipped him off and stormed back to his car. With one final glare at Westly, he sped back onto the highway. Oliver threw his hands in the air.

“Wes, we need positive business relationships. You insulting our revenue stream doesn’t help the bottom line.”

“I guess I should tell you now while I am feeling generous. Few years back, Meredith Buckley hired me to see if her husband was cheating on her. Sure enough I caught him doing the nasty on the bleachers in one of the fields out by DIA with a very nice working girl named Gabriella Calienta. Buckley and I came to an understanding. I get some police help and he is still happily married.”

Oliver and Holly stared at Westly with the utmost shock and disgust two people’s faces could make. Westly shrugged.

“What? You said we need to have positive business relationships; I was doing that.”

Oliver took his glasses off and rubbed them violently with a cloth.

“I can’t believe I have to say this, but blackmail is not a positive business relationship!” He shouted.

“Oliver!” Holly snapped pointing to a family stepping out of the burger place. Oliver awkwardly waved at them. Westly smirked.

“That can’t be good for the bottom line.”

“Shut up Wes!”

“Boys! We have bigger problems, right? Now the good news is there hasn’t been a news alert about a bunch of bikers shooting up a bunch of meatheads in flannel. So that buys us time before Pike strikes again. Wes, we need to get paid, where do you think he keeps his stash?”

Westly stared at the gas station. A green minivan rolled up to the pump. Sitting behind the wheel was a very portly man, no older than twenty-five. His lower lip was pierced, and he had a heavy layer of mascara on, but what stood out the most was his bright purple hair.

“Let’s ask his supplier.”

They both looked to the van. Holly took off first as Westly and Oliver began to follow, Oliver caught Westly’s arm.

“Wes if Luc-”

Westly waved his hand violently at Oliver.

“Shee. Later.”

Oliver nodded.

They approached the van. Turnip had his back turned and was in process of pumping gasoline. As they approached, Westly called out to him.

“Excuse me. Yeah, you. Do you know what a bruised turnip looks like? Cause we might fight out if things go wrong in the next-”

Turnip dropped the nozzle and began to run, tripping over his baggy jeans. He turned the corner around the gas station as Westly and Holly followed him closely. He had barely made it past the side of the building when he, tripped tumbling face first into a dumpster. He rolled on his back moaning. Westly approached him, taking the heel of his shoe and kicked back Turnip’s hand that was clutching his face.

“So that’s what bruised turnip looks. Boy you suck at running away.”

“Wes!”

“What? I could have got another salad and still caught this tub of lard.”

Westly put his foot on Turnip’s face and began to press down. Turnip began to moan. Holly sheepishly glanced behind her.

“How much did Pike pay you for the Hunter’s Moon?”

“I don’t know whatcha mean man.”

“Zackary Pike or one of his associates paid you for the Hunter’s Moon that was supposed to go the War Wolves motorcycle club. It was then used to kill a kid. You want to stay out of prison, you are going to tell me how Pike paid you.”

“Myron send you? Cause I don’t know nothing about no Pike.”

“So, you didn’t steal from the War Wolves?”

“Nah man I’m loyal.”

“Loyal people don’t run. Spill!”

Westly put his heel deeper onto Turnip’s eye. Turnip writhed, trying to scream. Holly walked to the front of the building as Oliver did his best to look away.

“Alright man I got strong armed by Chet to give him some. I told him no man, but the guy went all ninja silent on me and I was worrying he was gonna cut off my head so yeah. I gave him some. Don’t tell Myron man the dude iz crazy.”

“Chet have a last name?” Westly said firmly.

“Chet? Nah man I said Jet.”

Westly’s heart stopped as sweat returned to his brow. He took his foot off Turnip’s face and leaned down to pick him up. As soon as his hand met Turnip’s jacket, he heard the loud sounds of engines. He lifted his head just in time to see red, white, and blue Ford F-250s drive around the gas station surrounding him and cutting him off from Holly and Oliver. The red one’s door burst open and two large men in flannel shirts and thick bushy beards grabbed Westly and threw him in the truck. The doors slammed as Holly screamed while throwing rocks, as the truck pulled away. Westly was pulled up into the middle seat, sandwiched between the two massive men. The rider in the passenger seat leaned back. He was dressed in a dark black suit that was form fitted to his body. Around his neck was a bolo tie. The clasp was an amber triangle with jagged silver border. The one reason the amber was visible was the tie itself was woven in a three-part braid into the man’s very long beard which reached all the way to his belt. His hair on the other hand was short, neatly combed, and jelled. He looked back at Westly.

“Detective Gibbons. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zackary Pike and I would like a word about the disservice you have caused me.”