“Why would somebody put your name on Michael's death certificate?”
Doc shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Could somebody have copied your signature?”
“Yes.”
“Could somebody have accessed your medical records?”
“Possibly.”
Bear looked at him carefully.
“Did Michael ever contact you after the accident?”
Doc was silent for too long.
Bear felt his stomach tighten.
“Doc?”
The older rider finally answered.
“Yes.”
Bear stared at him.
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“Before or after I received the call?”
“After.”
Bear took a step backward.
“You knew he was alive.”
Doc's face tightened.
“I knew he was alive at that moment.”
Bear felt anger flood through him.
“You let me believe he was dead.”
“I believed he was in danger.”
“You let me grieve for six years.”
Doc's voice became strained.
“I know.”
“No, you don't know. You weren't the one who went to a cemetery every birthday. You weren't the one who kept wondering whether the last thing you said to your brother was the last thing he'd ever hear from you.”
Doc looked down.
Bear continued.
“You weren't the one who had to explain to our mother why Michael wouldn't be coming home.”
Doc's face crumpled.
“Your mother knew.”
Bear stopped.
“What?”
Doc looked up.
“Your mother knew Michael was alive.”
For a moment, Bear couldn't speak.
“My mother died three years ago.”
“I know.”
“She spent the last three years of her life believing her youngest son was dead.”
Doc shook his head.
“No, Grant. She didn't.”
Bear felt as though the world had tilted.
“What are you saying?”
Doc's eyes filled with regret.
“Michael contacted her. He visited her twice before she died.”
Bear stared at him.
“Twice?”
Doc nodded.
“And she never told me?”
“She wanted to.”
“Then why didn't she?”
Doc looked away.
“Because Michael begged her not to.”
Bear felt his throat close.
“My mother knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew?”
“Yes.”
“Who else knew?”
Doc hesitated.
Bear's voice dropped.
“Who else?”
“Mason knew something was wrong. He didn't know all the details.”
Bear stared at him.
“What about the others?”
“I don't know.”
Bear looked toward the diner.
Mason was standing near the entrance, talking to Cole.
For the first time that morning, Bear saw his oldest friend differently.
Not because Mason had necessarily betrayed him.
Because there were secrets everywhere, and he had spent years believing that his loyalty to other people meant they would be loyal to him in return.
“Why?” Bear asked Doc.
The older man looked at him.
“Why did you help him disappear?”
Doc swallowed.
“Because Michael believed somebody was trying to kill him.”
“Who?”
“Harold Keene.”
Bear froze.
Harold Keene had been their club's founding president.
He had recruited Bear when Bear was twenty-seven and still trying to find his place in the world. He had taught him how to organize rides, negotiate with local businesses, and keep a group of independent men working together without turning every disagreement into a fight.
Harold had died two years earlier.
A heart attack, according to the official report.
Bear had attended his funeral.
He had stood beside the coffin and remembered the good things Harold had done. He had remembered the charity rides, the Christmas toy drives, the hospital visits, and the countless times Harold had shown up when somebody needed help.
He had never considered the possibility that Harold might have been connected to Michael's disappearance.
“Why would Harold want to kill my brother?”
Doc looked toward the road.
“Because Michael found something.”
“What?”
“I don't know all of it.”
Bear's anger sharpened.
“You've been keeping secrets from me for six years, and you still don't know all of it?”
Doc met his eyes.
“I know enough to tell you that your brother was not the only person who disappeared.”
Bear went still.
“What does that mean?”
Doc took a slow breath.
“Six years ago, Michael was working for a construction company that handled several projects in western Pennsylvania. He noticed payments being made to companies that didn't appear to have employees, offices, or legitimate contracts.”
Bear listened without speaking.
“Then he found records connected to Northway Protective Services. Northway provided transport services for hospitals, clinics, and private medical facilities. On paper, the work looked ordinary. But Michael discovered that some of the transport records didn't match the patients listed in hospital files.”
“People were being moved under false identities?”
Doc nodded.
“Sometimes.”
Bear's jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Money. Witnesses. People who had become inconvenient to somebody.”
Bear looked toward the diner.
Lily was inside, eating pancakes while clutching a stuffed rabbit.
He thought about the man who had told Sarah that Michael was supposed to stay dead.
“Was Michael involved in any of it?”
“Not at first. He was a bookkeeper. He handled invoices and payroll. He started asking questions because he thought somebody was stealing from the company.”
“And then?”
“He discovered enough to make himself dangerous.”
Bear looked at Doc.
“Why didn't he come to me?”
Doc's answer was quiet.
“Because he thought someone was watching you.”
Bear felt a fresh wave of anger.
“He could have told me.”
“He thought telling you would put you in danger.”
“He made that decision for me?”
Doc didn't answer.
Bear turned away.
He had spent six years blaming himself for the argument that separated him from Michael.
Now he was discovering that his brother had been alive, had been hiding, and had made a series of decisions that had kept Bear outside his life.
He wasn't sure which feeling hurt more.
The grief he had carried for six years had been built on a lie.
But the love beneath that grief had never been a lie.
He could feel both truths fighting inside him.
Before he could say anything else, Mason came running toward them.
“Bear!”
Bear turned.
“What?”
“We got the SUV.”
Mason held up his phone.
The license plate had been traced to a company called Northway Protective Services.
Bear felt the air leave his lungs.
Doc closed his eyes.
Mason looked between them.
“What?”
Bear took the phone and read the details.
Northway had offices outside Pittsburgh. It had contracts with hospitals, private clinics, transportation companies, and several security firms.
Six years earlier, it had held a contract with St. Vincent Regional Hospital.
The hospital where Michael had supposedly died.