The memory card sat on the table for almost ten minutes before anyone opened it. Nobody wanted to and nobody expected good news.
Unfortunately good news had stopped existing around the clubhouse a long time ago.
Casey finally slid the card into his laptop while half the club crowded around the table and the room fell completely silent as folders began appearing across the screen.
There were hundreds of images. Maybe thousands.
“Oh no.” I said.
Casey clicked the first folder. They were the oldest photographs dated back months. Not weeks or months.
The room got colder with every image, pictures of slub runs, picture of members entering town, patrol routes, bikes, meetings, deliveries and everything.
Whoever took them hadn’t been watching occasionally.
They’d been documenting ou
