Epilogue
Victor
“All rise, for the honorable Judge Cannon.” The petite blonde bailiff calls out as the middle-aged judge swaggers into the large, modern courtroom, then up behind his bench, taking his seat.
Judge Cristopher Cannon is a short, stocky, bald man with a grumpy face and a wicked goatee.
D’s probation officer said that the judge was a good dude, despite appearances.
The gavel’s echo signals that court is in session, effectively silencing the milling of the eclectic crowd.
The high-ceilinged courtroom is three-quarters full of an array of men and women, some in three-piece suits, some in jeans and T-shirts, and others in polos and khakis.
Several people in business-casual outfits fill the front row, holding notebooks and pens at the ready.
“Alright, let’s get started.” The judge’s gravelly voice breaks the silence. “Good afternoon, everyone. Let’s see, first on my list is,” he looks over to the clerk sitting beside him. The young man looks back and hands him a folder. “Ah, yes, our newcomer. Mr. Caleb Walsh.”
Gabbi swiftly reaches over and links her fingers with mine in a death grip.
Leaning over, I whisper in her ear, “It’s okay, Rockstar, this is a good thing for him.
He’s going to be alright.” Though her shoulders relax a bit, her fingers keep their vice grip as D stands and approaches the podium in front of the bench.
It’s been six months since the accident.
I’m so proud of D for all the work he’s put in to recovering from that hellish night.
As the judge speaks to D, explaining the special court program, my phone buzzes against my thigh. Removing my cell from my pocket, I look down at the screen. My brow furrows as I see the Oak Knoll County Sheriff’s Office scroll across. What the hell?
I give Gabbi’s hand a quick squeeze and whisper in her ear, “I have to take this, baby.” She looks concerned but nods her head in understanding. Stepping into the lobby outside the courtroom, I press the green button.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Victor Scott?” The deep, vaguely familiar voice on the other end asks.
“Yeah, this is him,” I answer, starting to pace across the tightly woven, burgundy carpet lining the lobby floor. My shoes making quiet thuds as I move.
“Mr. Scott, this is Officer Buchannon, from the Oak Knoll County Sheriff’s office. Do you remember speaking to me about your house fire?” This is the guy who basically interrogated us after the fire and tried to blame Trip for the whole ordeal.
“Yes. What can I help you with?” I’m not really sure what to expect here.
“Mr. Scott, we just wanted to let you know that we identified the individual responsible for the fire.”
Shock hits me. Our house construction was completed a little over a month ago, so Gabbi and I haven’t really thought about the fire as an open case. We’ve focused all our efforts on remaking our rebuilt home in the essence of our reinvigorated relationship.
“Mr. Scott?” Officer Buchannon pulls me from my thoughts.
“Sorry. Did you arrest someone?” I ask with confusion.
“Uh,” he hesitates. “No, sir. The suspect was already dead when we arrived to make the arrest. Seems like someone got to him a few days before we got there. His name was Todd Hindley. Do you recognize that name?”
“No.” I’ve never heard that name before, but something is niggling in the back of my brain. “If he’s dead, then how do you know it was him who started the fire?”
“We had a good amount of evidence that pointed to him for the arrest, but once we entered the residence, there was an overwhelming amount found.” That seems really convenient.
“Wow.” Tingles crawl up the back of my neck, and there’s still a slight buzzing in my brain, like words of a song circling but not assembling to a tune. “Okay, well. Thank you for letting me know, I guess. Is there anything else we need to do?”
“No, sir. I just wanted to let you all know. You can get a copy of the final report for insurance or your records if you’d like.”
“Ok, I’ll speak with my wife and our insurance company and get back to you.”
“Okay, no problem.” The officer takes a pause, like he’s going to say something else, but says nothing. The silence is starting to get a bit awkward.
“Okay,” I break the silence, not really knowing what to say. “Thanks again for the information.”
“Sure, no problem. But, um…Mr.Scott?” Now he sounds hesitant.
“Yeah?”
“I also should let you know that Mr. Hindley wasn’t just into burglary and arson.
” He takes a slow, audible breath. “He was also a recruiter for a human trafficking organization.” My knees buckle, and I throw my empty hand up to lean my weight against the closest wall.
He goes on, “We think he was working with a few older males at the high school.” Now my stomach rolls with the implications of those words.
“Your daughters were lucky to have Trip Harris over that night.”
My thoughts drift back to the conversation I had with Trip after the fire.
“I can’t tell you everything, Vic, but I can tell you there’s a guy who hangs around school. He’s a problem for this area and tends to target pretty girls.”
“I promise, the girls were not touched. Look, I can’t really say anything else, and I know that you probably wanna go to the cops with this information, but I’m asking you not to, at least not yet.”
“I’m leaving soon. I just need you to know that I’m gonna take care of it before I leave, so please just, don’t say anything.”
All the air leaves my lungs, and I sink to the ground with his last words.
Trip. I need to get off the phone. “Yeah, wow. Okay. Thanks again. I’ll reach out if I need anything else.
” I hang up before he can respond. I pull my phone down to my lap with shaky hands and shoot a text to the one person I need answers from.
It’s about an hour before court is over. I snuck back in after the phone call and have been sitting here, holding Gabbi’s hand with a feeling of dread in my stomach. I want to check my phone to see if he texted back, but I don’t want to draw Gabbi’s attention.
After court was released, we all walked D out, said our good-byes, and got on the road back home.
Ty is driving, Emma and Gabbi are asleep in the back seat, and I’m debating whether or not to talk to Ty about what the sheriff told me, when my leg vibrates.
I check to see if Ty is paying attention and pull my phone out when I realize he’s 100% focused on the road, well, probably more like 85% on the road and 15% on singing the song on the radio… Is that Taylor Swift?
Shaking the thought from my head, I click on the message chat.
Me: Hey, Wildman, I just got an interesting phone call from a certain police officer. Said they closed the house fire case. The guy responsible is dead.
Trip: Hey Uncle Vic!
Trip: Huh, that’s crazy. I guess justice does work out sometimes. Guy probably had that comin’ (Winking emoji)
Two things happen when I read that text. First, my heart starts to ache at the thought of Trip being involved with a person’s death. The second, a small smile kicks up the sides of my mouth, and a burst of pride expands my chest.