Rod (32 page)

The entire club erupts in a sea of glasses
in the air as they all cheer and show respect for our accomplishments.

My father clears his throat to disrupt
them.
 
“One other thing,” he says loudly
as he ensures everyone is listening.

“We could not have done any of this
without Rodney Vinton here and my beautiful daughter Trish.
 
Huzzah!”

The cheers resume and we all drink.

Dad finishes his beer with a giant gulp
and reminds everyone that our next meeting is on Thursday.
 
Everyone raises their glasses as a sign of
respect and he darts out of the door.

Days pass before Rodney’s phone rings with
word from Red.
 
His face lights up as we
enjoy dinner.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I got to call Red back, but I think
it’s
good news,” he tells me.

He gets up from the table and dials the
number on his phone.
 
I overhear him as
he sounds pleased with whatever he hears on the other end of the phone.
 
He paces back and forth, but walks back over
to me when he’s done.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I just talked to Red.
 
He said that he setup the account in Sasha’s
name and
everyone
of their members chipped in – along
with the money from Lester, my father, Boris and Ken.”

“Really?!?” I ask with exasperation.

“Yep, he just told me the news,” he says.

“How much was it all?” I ask in
anticipation.

“A hundred and twenty grand total,” he
tells me as he beams with pride.

“And it’s all in an account at First Bank
of Hinton under Sasha’s name?” I press him.

“Yeah, he said that I could even call to
verify the funds,” he tells me.

“So, call and make sure before we tell any
of this to my father,” I
command
him.

He smiles and dials a number on his phone
as I listen in.

“Yeah, I’m calling to verify funds in an
account that was opened yesterday,” he tells the person on the other end of the
phone.

He nods and rattles off an account number
and my sister’s full name.
 
A look of
satisfaction creeps across his face as he listens to the other person talking.

“Alright, thank you, that’s all I needed
to know,” he says before disconnecting the call.

He looks at me and says, “It’s all
there.
 
A hundred a twenty thousand
dollars – all in your sister’s name.”

“My dad’s
gonna
love hearing about that,” I assure him.

“Do you want to tell him or should I?” he
asks me.

“You can,” I reply.

“Alright, I’ll give him a call now.”

He dials another number on his phone and
happily informs my father of the situation with Sasha’s newly created bank
account.
 
Rodney nods a few times and
says “you’re welcome” before hanging up the call.

“What did he say?” I ask.

“He sounded happy that everything worked
out the way he wanted it to,” he tells me.

“Is he
gonna
tell Sasha?” I press him.

“Yeah, he said that it’ll be her college
fund or for her to do with however she wants to.”

“Fantastic.
 
It doesn’t make up for what those goons did
to her, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.
 
I
can’t wait to see their faces when they realize that the money is no longer there.”

“That’d be a riot,” he tells me.
 
“Oh yeah, your father told me to call Red and
solidify the truce.
 
He sounded a little
bit surprised that they agreed to the bank account thing.”

“Right on.
 
Are
ya
gonna
call
him?” I ask.

“Yeah.
 
I’ll call him now and give him the news.”

I sit idly by as Rodney makes the call to
Red to inform him that everything is in place for a truce.
 
The call takes a bit longer than I want, but
Rodney deflects some other questions and I begin to get curious.
 
I wear a question mark on my face as I look
at him while he talks.
 
He puts up a
finger as if to tell
me
‘one minute’ and I nod in
response.

After the call, he asks, “What’s up?”

“I just thought you were telling him about
the truce.
 
You were on the phone for
fifteen minutes,” I inform him.

“Yeah, he asked again if I would be
willing to take over for my father as President of the
Deathdealers
.
 
Once again, I told him no, but he demanded
that I at least think about it.”

“Are you going to?” I ask him.

“No, of course not,
darlin
’.
 
I would never betray your father or your
trust,” he tells me.

“Good
good
.
 
I know it’s probably tempting to be in
charge, but you’ll get further ahead with our club.
 
Besides, I can’t let you go.”

“You’re so adorable.
 
Did you think for one second that I could
leave you and go join another motorcycle club?
 
I couldn’t go where you don’t follow.”

“You’re a sap, but you’re my sap and I
love you Rodney Vinton,” I say in complete honesty.

“I love you, too,
darlin
’,”
he tells me as he draws closer to me.
 
He
leans in and smells my perfume, offering a nibble to my neck.

He pulls my body closer and holds me
tightly.
 

Weeks pass and the trial is upon us.
 
I look down to my little sister, but she
remains stoic in her resolve to have justice reign supreme.
 
She is adamant that her story will cause the
jury to see her side and convict the criminals of their wrongdoings.

We all walk into the giant courtroom and I
feel a little daunted by the enormity of it all.
 
Everything is shiny and wooden with the
exception of the American flag and the court reporter’s machine.

We walk down the long aisle and sit to the
right behind Sasha, my father and her lawyer.
 
On the left, we look over and see Lester Samson looking pitiful, an
angry Seth Vinton, Boris
Cardov
and Ken Clayton, both
looking remorseful.
 
Boris and Lester
won’t make eye contact with us, but Sasha gives all four of them a death stare.

The judge comes in and everyone
rises.
 
The bailiff tells us to sit and
the judge begins reading a packet of papers in front of him.
 
He looks completely appalled by the charges
and gives the defendants a look of disgust.

Opening arguments begin and each lawyer
pleads their case.
 
Opposing counsel
claims that Sasha was a lost little girl who couldn’t communicate her family’s
information to the men who tried helping her.
 
They seek to have all of the charges dropped and want their attorney’s
fees paid in full.
 

Our lawyer presents our side of the story,
which paints Lester, Seth, Boris, and Ken to be the predators they clearly
are.
 
Sasha looks to me and our father
for guidance, but we quell her fears by telling her that the lawyer on the
other side is merely doing what he’s being paid to do.

“But it’s a lie,” she insists, trying to
keep her voice to a dull whisper.
 
“That
man is lying!”

“Of course he’s lying, he’s trying to keep
his clients out of prison for decades,” I whisper to her, taking notice of the
judge’s glaring stare.
 

Our attorney calls me to the stand.
 
I stand up at the witness stand with my hand
on the bible and swear to tell the whole truth, so help me God.

“Ms. Fitzgerald, how did you know that
your sister was kidnapped?” Our lawyer asks me.

“Missy came into the club’s back room and
announced that Sasha was gone,” I tell him.

“Did you verify that information with the
school?” he asks, pacing between a five-foot
area
back
and forth.

“I didn’t, no.
 
At that point, I wasn’t part of the
investigation into her disappearance.”

“Then who verified that information with
the school?”

“Rodney Vinton took a few of the club
members with him and checked at her school.
 
According to the attendance office, Sasha never showed up for school
that day,” I say, looking directly at Sasha as I notice a tear form in her eye.

“Objection, your honor! That’s hearsay,”
the opposing lawyer shouts.
 
The judge
pounds his gavel onto the bench and says, “Sustained.”

“Alright.
 
Do you know Lester Samson?” he asks me pointedly.

“Yes, we’ve met,” I tell him giving Lester
a well-deserved snarl.

“How did you meet Lester Samson?”

“We met at a bar in
Hayleysville
,”
I tell him.

“Can you give us the circumstances
surrounding your meeting?” he asks.

“Yes.
 
I went into the bar to get out of town and collect my thoughts.
 
My father claimed at the time that I wasn’t
allowed to be part of their investigation, so I rode my bike until I happened
upon this one dive bar by accident.”

“And then what happened?”

“I overheard Lester talking about a
twelve-year-old girl with blonde hair,” I reply.

“Who did you think he was talking about?”

“I thought he was talking about my sister
Sasha, so I got an address out of him,” I relay to the court.

At this time, Lester gives me an evil look
that says he wishes I would die.
 
I pay
him no attention now.

“And how did you get his address?”

“I walked over to him, acted like I was
drunk, and hit on him and his friend,” I tell the court.

Our lawyer looks amused at the statement,
but continues.
 
“He gave you his
address?”

“Yes, he said to come over and have some
fun,” I tell them as I try hard to stifle a chuckle.

The jurors’ faces appear full of interest
in my every word.

“Did you go to his place?”

“Well, I followed him and his friend
there, but they didn’t know I was anywhere around.”

“Why did you follow them?” he presses.

“Because I thought he was hiding my baby
sister in that squalid rat
hole
he calls a house,” I
tell them all.

“Did you find your sister there?”

“No, but I didn’t get to go inside.”

He readjusts his tie and asks, “If you
were to have gone in, do you think that you would’ve found your sister inside?”

“I really do think I would have,” I
answer, but the opposing counsel springs to his feet once again.

“Objection!” he yammers.

“Grounds?” the judge asks him.

“That calls for speculation,” the lawyer
says.

“Sustained.
 
Please strike the witness’ response as well
as the question from the record,” he commands the court reporter.
 
She nods in response.

“Let’s move on,” our attorney voices,
pacing his small area again.
 
“Did you
tell anyone about how you felt about Lester Samson?”

“Yes, I told Rodney and my father.”

“What did they tell you?” He asks.

“Rodney told me that Lester was a
life-long family friend and that he was harmless,” I tell the court.

“And your father, Ronan Fitzgerald?
 
What did he have to say?”

“He said that I should listen to Rod-“

“Objection!” the other lawyer shouts,
before he realizes what I was in the middle of saying.
 
“Withdrawn,” he comments as he sits back in
his chair.

“He said that I should listen to Rodney,”
I tell everyone.

“Did you listen to Rodney?” He asks.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“And why is that?” he muses.

“Because I felt that there was something
shady about the old man.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Yes, I did,” I tell him directly.

“What did you find?” he inquires.

“I found out that he had a child
endangerment charge against him,” I say looking directly at Lester.
 
“Later, I found that the charge was a cover
up for other charges of kidnapping and driving drunk.”