Vacant MC

by Bella Knight

  The women helped break down the double beds, and they moved all the stuff out of the bedrooms while the men worked. Callie tested the first two women, took a break to slip in and help the men get the beds done, and went back out to test the other two.

  Callie ordered lunch for everyone, and the Ghosties went in, between testing times, setting the table for lunch, their new exercises, and watching the pods get built. Each person —boy or mom-type, got a pod in which one could sleep or sit up and read, with a shelf and a light, and a ladder down for the one on top. Everyone got twin, memory-foam beds, and Skuld went out for more sheets, as they’d forgotten that the moms would need pods, too. They got everything back together, and they ate the pulled-pork sandwiches and chips, and drank Cokes. The men took the larger beds out for storage, and Skuld washed all the sheets. The women said their goodbyes.

  The Ghost Pack all sat on the couch, gasping. “Them women be tornadoes,” said Blue.

  “Nicest tornadoes I evah did see,” said Little Bit. They all drank their Cokes in exhausted silence.

  “Forward progress can be exhausting. Just keep moving.”

  5

  Trial

  “Lying has consequences. Sometimes telling the truth has worse consequences. Tell the truth anyway.”

  “Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God and Odin?”

  “I do,” said Wraith. The court tittered. Judge Markan smiled just a bit, showing off her tiny white teeth. She knew damn well Bailiff De’Wayne Conroy was making sure Wraith told the truth, in his own way. The enormous bailiff slowly walked away. Wraith maneuvered into a seated position. Her back and neck still ached. Her occupational therapist was trying to kill her.

  Leah Sakanski, a short, stocky woman with a cascade of brown hair and gray eyes, stood to ask Wraith questions —for the defense. She was wearing a tan suit that looked fabulous on her. Leah went over Wraith’s DEA, and being loaned out to the ATF, past.

  “And what were you doing on March thirteenth of last year?”

  “I was interviewing Roland Kasem, the defendant.”

  “At what time was this?” asked Leah.

  “From six o’clock at night to nearly eight,” said Wraith. The courtroom erupted. Judge Markan pounded her gavel. The courtroom quieted.

  “Did you tell the District Attorney Ray Evars this was the case?” asked Leah.

  “Four separate times,” said Wraith. “Once about two weeks after Rolly was arrested, and once I had the time of death from the newspaper, I called his office. I also sent over a fax of all my notes from that night. I then called his office three separate times over the next two weeks, and I was rebuffed all three times. I have the dates and times in the precis I gave you. I also spoke with ADA Rumin Kelis, and recorded both those interviews, with ADA Kelis’ permission.”

  “Your Honor, if it pleases the court. Ex-DEA Special Agent Annika Jensen’s precis is a copy of all her notes, the receipt of the facts including dates and times, and transcriptions of the recordings of both discussions with ADA Rumin Kelis. I have it here, and I would like this marked as Peoples’ Exhibit D.”

  “So ordered,” said the judge. She took a copy, and Leah passed them out to ADA Michael Kellers and his second chair, ADA Rudi Meyers, just two years out of law school. She also gave a copy to the jury.

  “Can you give us a short synopsis of this interview?” asked Leah.

  “I can,” said Wraith. “I can’t give away everything that was said. Some of the discussion was about names and leads the DEA and ATF are still pursuing, as far as I know. At the time, I was pretending to be someone doing Rolly’s job in another city. Essentially, Rolly was showing me his Rolex, and laughing, telling how he took it in payment for black tar heroin. He also told me his drug route, and some information about both his customers and his suppliers. I was trying to get the name of the person a level up or two, but I wasn’t having any luck.” Wraith took a drink of water and continued. “We bought liquor from a liquor store, and he went through most of a fifth of Jack Daniels. I pretended to drink from the bottle, but I did not. I did get the name of the person one level up before he tried to attack me sexually. I punched him in the stomach. He puked on the ground. I left. I found my microphone had been damaged by an altercation with a suspect I had earlier in the night. I wrote down everything I had heard, word for word. My partner at the time, Special Agent Dani Jenkins, was separated from me because the police got in a shootout with another suspect we were watching that night, and therefore, could not tell me that my mic was damaged.”

  “So, the defendant, my client, Roland Kasem, was with you getting drunk when he was supposedly murdering his business rival, Wallace Rubrick, according to the prosecution’s timeline of events?”

  “Yes,” said Wraith.

  “The prosecution has already entered into evidence that my client says, over and over, during the interview when he was arrested, that he was, quote, ‘With the white-haired chick.’ Were you that white-haired woman?”

  “I was,” said Wraith.

  “Does Roland have any deal with the DEA to testify in any case?” asked Leah.

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Wraith. “I was hit by a truck earlier this year, and I had no access to anything from the DEA. I eventually retired from the DEA when it was evident my injuries may be a liability in the field.”

  “Are you brain damaged?” asked Leah. The crowd gasped.

  “No, but I did have trouble talking when I recovered,” said Wraith. “I had a concussion and neck injuries. I had trouble moving because half my side was in a cast, or in traction. I recovered all of my faculties very quickly.”

  “Do you remember the accident?” asked Leah.

  “I remember the sirens,” said Wraith. “I also remember knowing my friends were looking for me.”

  “Do you have any trouble remembering the facts of this case?”

  “No, I do not,” said Wraith.

  “I have no further questions at this time,” said Leah.

  “Your witness,” said the judge.

  ADA Michael Kellers proceeded to question every part of the precis. “Are you certain that was the day?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Wraith.

  “Are you certain of the time?” asked Kellers.

  “Yes,” said Wraith.

  “What exactly did you talk about?”

  Wraith went over it again, until Leah stood and said, “Objection! Asked and answered, twice!”

  “Move along,” said the judge.

  Kellers then tried to prove that Wraith was talking about the wrong liquor store. “How can you be sure it was the one on Martin Luther King, and not the one on Gower? Or Nellis?”

  “First, we were within walking distance of Martin Luther King, one block off of it. That’s where I met him. Second of all, I keep all my receipts. I paid for the bottle of liquor that the defendant drank, and I kept the receipt. I keep all my receipts. There’s a copy in the information I faxed to your office. There’s also a copy in the precis I gave the defendant’s attorney.”

  The courtroom was absolutely silent. But, Kellers wasn’t finished. “Isn’t it true that you would do anything to get the defendant off, that he’s testifying in other trials?”

  “I have no idea what the man is or is not testifying to,” said Wraith. “I’m no longer with the DEA or working with the ATF.”

  “Isn’t that convenient,” said Kellers.

  Leah stood and said, “Objection! Asked and answered, twice!”

  The judge gave Kellers a hard stare, making the dapper man actually sweat. “Move along,” said the judge.

  “I have no further questions for this witness,” said Kellers, grinding out the words.

  “Redirect, your Honor,” said Leah. The judge waved her hand, and Leah stepped forward. “So, you are not mistaken about the place or time,” said Leah.

  “No,” said Wraith.

  “What injuries are a liability?�
�� asked Leah. “Concerning your retirement from the DEA?”

  “I’m slower,” said Wraith, “Physically. I can get back close to where I was, but with the knee, not all the way. And the DEA is an all-or-nothing business. A millisecond is life and death there.”

  “Why didn’t you arrest him?” asked Leah.

  “No tape, and he only drank very legal alcohol in front of me,” said Wraith.

  “He attempted to sexually assault you.”

  “He did,” said Wraith. “Long enough for him to get a knee in the stomach. He was a little fish. The DEA have a big-fish point of view. I was working my way up the food chain.”

  “What will happen to my client if he is released from prison?” asked Leah.

  “In my opinion, he won’t live long,” said Wraith. The courtroom gasped. Rolly, who had lost most of his baby fat in prison, narrowed his raisin eyes at his savior. He had dark skin, and a five o’ clock shadow at a little after two in the afternoon. He looked older than he was; barely nineteen.

  “Why?” asked Leah.

  “Objection, calls for speculation,” said Kellers.

  “Overruled,” said the judge.

  “The prosecution keeps trying to paint him as someone testifying in another case. I’m surprised he’s survived prison so far, because he’s being painted in open court as a snitch. Also, he’s a drunken, drug addict. Prison may have sobered him up, and if so, that’s great. But, I have met many people like Rolly. He’s a low man on the totem pole, a small fish in a big pond. There’s always someone bigger, badder, meaner. Guys like him don’t often make it out of their twenties unless they work hard to turn their life around, and I don’t know if Rolly has the strength.” Rolly narrowed his eyes at Wraith. Wraith ignored him.

  “The defense rests,” said Leah.

  It took the jury all of two hours to let Rolly free. Wraith was in the gallery right behind them when Rolly shook Leah’s hand. “You’re wrong,” said Rolly. “I’m movin’ ta Reno. Gotta cousin there. Gonna stay alive, stay straight.” He pulled at his short hair. It used to be down to his shoulders.

  “Prove it,” said Wraith. Then, his mom and his sister, both drug addicts cleaned up for the trial, embraced him tightly.

  Leah shook Wraith’s hand. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I told the truth,” said Wraith. “No more, no less.”

  “I need to see the attorneys in chambers,” said the judge.

  “Keller’s gonna get squished,” said Leah, gathering her papers and stuffing them into her briefcase.

  “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” said Wraith. “But, tell the judge I think District Attorney Ray Evars should also be held responsible. This farce wasted the court’s time and money.”

  “Bye,” said Leah, chasing the judge out of her courtroom and into her chambers.

  Wraith met Sigrun in the side lot at motorcycle parking. “I need me some baby love,” she said. “And with Saber in deep again, we have the time.”

  “Sonic first?” asked Sigrun.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely,” said Wraith. They went for the mozzarella sticks, fries, and peanut butter shakes.

  “Who do you think did it?” asked Sigrun.

  “I think it was the Rollin’ 90s,” said Wraith. “They were moving into that territory. I told Ray Evars that too, but he wasn’t listening.” She took another cheese stick.

  “Why the fuck did they go through a trial?” asked Sigrun.

  “Ray thought he could shake me as brain-damaged. Probably never saw the receipt. Also, I think he wanted to preempt the DEA from making cases on his turf, get Rolly to testify. I still have no idea if he is testifying to anything or not. I never arrested him.” Wraith took a sip of her shake and shivered with delight. “I am so glad I’m out of that business.”

  “So am I,” said Sigrun.

  They headed up to Pahrump. There was a hot wind pushing at them. They made good time. They went to see Xenia. They turned down their bikes to rumble rather than roar. They parked, got out, and went around back. Xenia nodded at the back door, and they let themselves in, very quietly. Xenia was on the phone, gesturing at someone on the other end.

  Diana was asleep, her fist curled up at her mouth. They just stood there in their bike leathers, staring at that tiny face. Xenia beckoned Wraith, and she went over to the kitchen.

  Xenia got off the phone. “Bob is testifying for our sister Freya today to get her an adoption license. She wants to adopt two girls, ones of us, really. If we get them, we’re pushing for immediate custody. Can you… can Sigrun watch Diana so we can go there? Bottles in the fridge. If you come, we’ll have an extra body to run around. I’ll take the company car.”

  Wraith nodded. “On it.” She went over, told Sigrun, and watched Sigrun’s happy dance at being left alone to watch Diana. Her eyes shone.

  They went out to the “company car” as silently as possible. “You’re going to have to get her one of those,” said Xenia.

  Wraith nodded. “They know, but no one else does. The accident… kind of smooshed my insides. Maybe I can, maybe I can’t.” She waggled her hand.

  “That sucks,” said Xenia, and she grabbed Wraith into a fierce embrace. “We’ve got several still that I’ve got on my list of orphans. We wanted Diana first, before taking in any new ones.”

  “Well,” said Wraith. “Let’s go help our sister Freya get some off of Bob’s list, shall we?”

  Bob and Freya stood at the counter at Children’s Protective Services. “Chance’s social worker is Elizabeth Denham,” said Bob. “Doubt she’s here. The woman’s always in a car.” He turned toward the harried woman on the phone, then back to Freya. “Rhodes used to have Mrs. Austin, but she got pregnant. Rhodes says no one has been by to see her in two months. Not a phone call, letter, nothing.”

  “Well,” said Freya, “Let’s…”

  Xenia and Wraith came in. There were hugs all around. “If you are done with your reunion,” said the woman, I’m now off the phone. She had long hair that could use some conditioner, no makeup, and a glare that could peel paint off a car.

  “I’m Sheriff Bob Hunter,” said Bob.

  “And I’m Sheriff Xenia Poloulakis,” said Xenia. “We’re here with Summer Cassis, who got her foster/adoptive parent license almost two weeks ago. We’re trying to find the status of the children she’s trying to adopt. We’re here to offer our services in helping the children get moved.”

  “I can’t comment on…” said the woman.

  “Getting the children into her house gives more room for other children, wouldn’t it?” asked Bob, in his best Sheriff Hunter voice.

  “Well, it…” said the woman.

  “Can you direct me to a supervisor?” asked Bob. “We know you’re busy. Or the caseworker Elizabeth Denham. I think Mrs. Austin is home with her new baby.”

  “Died in childbirth,” said the woman. “Horrible. Baby made it, though. Boy, six pounds, two ounces.”

  “Terrible,” said Bob.

  “Horrible,” said Xenia. “Just had one myself. I know you’re busy…” The woman held up a finger and answered the phone.

  A woman with caramel skin, dressed in a teal blouse and tan slacks came out. “Sheriff—Sheriffs!” said the woman. “What can I do for you?”

  “This nice woman here got her foster-adopt license two weeks ago, and now wants to adopt two kids. We thought we’d help with the logistics,” said Bob.

  “Come to my office,” said the woman. “Carolyn Quest,” said Carolyn, shaking Freya’s hand.

  “A friend,” said Wraith. She sat down to wait.

  The others went in. “Summer Cassis,” said Freya. “Here’s a copy of my license, and the data sheets on both girls.”

  “Good-good,” said Carolyn. Carolyn went behind her desk, piled with six separate stacks of paper. “Sit, sit,” she said. Freya and Xenia sat. Bob lurked in a corner. “So,” she said, typing rapidly. “Oh, I see what happened. Horrible about Mrs. Austin.” Everyone agreed that
it was, in fact, horrible. “We’ve been working on her more… difficult part of her caseload, you understand. The at-risk ones.” Bob and Xenia failed to mention that all the kids were “at-risk” or they wouldn’t be in the foster program. “Oh… okay. Now, the other one.” She changed papers. “Lizzie Denton’s off today, but I’m sure she’d want to see that little girl placed…” She worked for twenty minutes. The sheriffs worked on their phones. Freya meditated, afraid that if she went on her cell phone, she’d seem less interested in adopting the children.

  “Well, normally, the children’s caseworkers move them, but since you’ve got… help…” She looked at the sheriffs. “I normally wouldn’t do this, but… can you…”

  “Of course,” said both Bob and Xenia, in unison.

  Bob and Xenia followed Wraith and Freya to Freya’s home to drop off the bikes and to pick up boxes and suitcases for the girls. Freya went with Bob, and Xenia with Wraith.

  Chance met Xenia and Wraith at the door, took an empty box from Xenia, and said, “Follow me.” They followed her to a whitewashed room devoid of anything girly, with two bunk beds. A giant cross of a bleeding Christ was over each bed. Chance began opening drawers and dumping her things into the box.

  Ms. Turtin came up the stairs, wheezing. “Chance, you know you can’t have anyone in your room.” She stopped in shock when she saw Wraith and Xenia.

  “Sheriff Xenia Poloulakis,” said Xenia. “Here’s the order releasing Chance into our custody.” Chance worked faster, grabbing a light jacket, and her bookbag. She stepped around Ms. Turtin to go to the bathroom for her toothbrush. She came back and dropped it in the box. She only had a few changes of clothes, another pair of shoes, and a Sunday dress and an everyday dress, which she ignored in the closet.