After they left, Caleb sat alone in his quiet apartment thinking about the last few weeks, how his life had changed, how he'd changed. A month ago he'd been nobody, invisible, just another mechanic in a nowhere town. Now he had a future, people who cared about him, a purpose, and all because he'd made one choice on a hot highway in Arizona. One choice that had seemed so simple at the time, stop and help. His phone buzzed.
Uncle Vernon. Heard you testified. You okay? Caleb stared at the message for a long time before responding, Yeah, I'm good, better than good, actually. Good.
I'm proud of you, kid. Your daddy would be, too. Thanks, Uncle Vernon. That means a lot. You need anything, you call.
I mean it. I will.
Caleb set the phone down and looked around his apartment, at the certificate on his dresser, at Wrath asleep on the couch, one hand resting on his pistol even in sleep, at the keys to his softail hanging by the door. This was his life now, complicated, dangerous sometimes, but real, full of people who showed up when it mattered. He wouldn't trade it for anything. Outside the Phoenix night was alive with sound traffic sirens, the distant rumble of motorcycles heading home. Caleb stood at his window watching the city lights and felt something he hadn't felt in years.
He felt like he belonged. Tomorrow would bring new challenges. The trial was still coming. Dalton's reach might still extend beyond prison walls. The threats might continue.
But tonight Caleb Hayes was exactly where he needed to be, and that was enough.
The trial started on a Monday morning in October, 6 weeks after the grand jury indictment. Caleb woke at 5:00 a.m. to find Wrath already dressed in a suit that looked uncomfortable on his massive frame. Didn't know you owned a suit. Caleb said. I don't.
Borrowed it from Clutch. Wrath tugged at the collar. Feels like a noose, but Linda said we need to look respectable. Can't have the jury thinking we're thugs. You are thugs.
We're concerned citizens who happen to ride motorcycles. Wrath's deadpan delivery almost made Caleb laugh, despite his nerves. Now, get dressed. We leave in 30 minutes.
The courthouse steps were packed with media. Cameras, reporters shouting questions, microphones thrust forward like weapons. Caleb froze at the sight. Keep walking. Arthur said, appearing at his elbow.
Don't look at them. Don't answer anything. Just walk. They formed a protective circle around him. Arthur, Wrath, Tiny, Clutch, and a dozen other bikers, all in suits and ties.
The reporters surged forward, but couldn't break through. Mr. Hayes, is it true you're being threatened? Did the Hells Angels pay you to testify? Are you afraid of Sheriff Dalton?