William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

“I will.” Ben leaned forward. “You see, now that Zak doesn’t have a murder charge hanging over his head, he’s going to talk about how you tried to blackmail him into silence. In detail. He’ll tell everyone-locals, Feds. He’ll go on television if he has to. And eventually we’ll find someone who knows something. Maybe the deputy who admitted you to the jailhouse. Maybe another prisoner who overheard something. Maybe Geppi will reappear. If Zak makes a big enough fuss, something will shake out.”

“He’d better not.” Granny sprang forward like a panther. “You tell that little prick that if he opens his mouth, his sister’s ass is grass. I wasn’t kidding around with him. She won’t see the sun for ten years!”

“Thank you very much.” Ben pulled his hand out of his coat pocket to reveal a tiny Sony tape recorder. “I agree that I would’ve had a hard time making the charges stick just based on Zak’s word. But your confession might do the trick.”

Granny’s eyes went wide. Her face was a vivid red. “Confession? I didn’t confess-”

Ben smiled, then rose to his feet. “We’ll let the U.S. Attorney decide about that, okay?”

Granny ran around her desk. “Give me that tape, Kincaid.”

“No chance.”

Her face twisted up in a knot. “You’ll give me that tape if I have to beat you to a bloody fucking pulp.” She looked like she could do it, too.

It was Ben’s turn to feign a yawn. “A threat of violence. It’s just too trite.”

She clenched up her fist. “I’ll show you trite-”

“ Loving ?”

From just outside, Ben’s enormous investigator poked his head through the door. “Need somethin’, Skipper?”

“I don’t know.” He smiled at Granny. “Do I?”

Granny’s face was livid. She looked as if she might explode at any moment. But she kept her mouth shut.

Ben gathered his briefcase and headed toward the door. “See you in court, Granny.”

Ben stood at the crest of the hill and gazed out at the forest all around him. This was the same location to which he had been brought by force only a few days before, but now everything was different. The landscape was so changed that an unknowing observer gazing at Before and After photos would never have guessed they were of the same site. Probably wouldn’t have guessed they were of the same planet.

The shack was entirely gone, burned. All that was left was blackened rubble-and not much of that. A thick gray ash powdered the hillside.

The verdant view that once crested the hill was now black. Black and black and black. Burned beyond recognition. Plants, ground cover, trees. The fire had spread hundreds of feet in all directions before the team from the Forest Service had managed to extinguish it. What once had been a thriving example of nature’s wonder in all its bounty was now nothing but charred desolation.

As Ben had said before, he was no nature lover. But gazing out at this waste, this ruin, this spoilage-it just made him want to cry.

But he held it back. He didn’t have time for such indulgences. He had work to do.

He saw Maureen drive up the blackened road, park, climb out of her Jeep. He hadn’t visited her since he left the infirmary. He was glad to see her again; she looked much better now.

And a few minutes after that, Ben saw a bright red pickup driven by Jeremiah Adams-head foreman of the Magic Valley sawmill, lifelong logger, supervisor, and father of the former Magic Valley district attorney.

“What the hell’s she doing here?” Adams said as soon as he spotted Maureen. “You didn’t tell me there were gonna be any of them here.”

Maureen wasn’t any happier to see him than he was to see her. “It seems Ben neglected to give either of us many details. What’s up, Ben?”

Ben braced himself. He knew this was not going to be easy. “I just wanted to get the two of you together. You’re both the respective local heads of your factions now, and-well, I just wanted you to talk. Explore possibilities. Consider one another’s needs and wants. See if you can’t maybe put an end to all the hate and violence and turmoil and just-work things out.”

Adams ripped off his cap and swore. “Jesus H. Christ.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “Where do you live anyway, Ben? Disneyland?”

“I’m serious. You’re both adults. There’s no reason why you can’t sit down and talk.”

“To what end?” Maureen said bitterly. “He’s never going to agree with me.”

“She’s right,” Adams added. “I ain’t never gonna agree with her.”

“You don’t have to agree with each other,” Ben said. “Just try to understand each other.”

“I understand her,” Adams said. “She cares more about trees than she does about people.”

“And he cares more about making a buck than he does about our natural resources.” She looked at Ben sharply. “See? We understand each other perfectly.”

“Would you listen to one another? You sound like children. Turning important issues into a playground squabble.”

They both folded their arms. Neither spoke.

“You have to think of something,” Ben continued. “Some solution. You’ve got to stop labeling each other villains and treating each other accordingly. Don’t you see?” He stepped forward, arms outstretched. “It’s all a matter of perspective. No one thinks of themselves as a bad guy. No one intends to be evil-they do what they do for a reason. Green Rage destroys equipment-to save the trees. The loggers harass the environmentalists-to save their jobs. They both believe in what they’re doing. Granny subverts trial procedure-to keep criminals off the streets. Even Sheriff Allen had a reason for his horrible actions. None of us are all good or all evil. Labeling your opponent as evil doesn’t help. The only solution is to work together and try to come to an understanding.”

“We’ll come to an understanding,” Adams said, “when we’ve driven these meddlers out of the forest.”

“Or maybe we’ll drive you out of the forest,” Maureen said emphatically. “We’ve done it before.”

“No,” Ben said. “You have to stop the fighting.”

Adams pursed his thin lips. “Bull.”

“Ditto,” Maureen said. “We’ll keep fighting. We have to.”

“You can’t keep fighting!” Ben shouted.

“We have to,” Maureen insisted. “If we keep fighting, we’ll win.”

“Wrong. If you keep fighting, you’ll destroy each other.”

“That’s a load of-”

“You don’t know what-”

“ Look at this!” Ben shouted. He windmilled his hands. “Just look!”

The two antagonists fell silent for a moment and gazed out at their surroundings. The shack was destroyed. The landscape was destroyed. Trees were charred. All that remained as far as the eye could see was black and dead.

“This is what you’ll end up with,” Ben continued. “You’ve been fighting for months, and what has it gotten you? Three people are dead. Millions of dollars worth of equipment on both sides has been ruined. Wasted. And four hundred old-growth trees burned, right here on this hilltop. And to accomplish what? Nothing , that’s what. Nothing at all.”

He saw Maureen and Adams look at one another, tentative glances out the corners of their eyes. Finally Adams spoke. “We’re not the ones who set that fire.”

“No,” Ben answered, “but if the people you employed hadn’t assaulted Green Rage, hadn’t run poor Doc down, it never would’ve happened. You’re both responsible.”

The two fell silent again. Ben felt a strong breeze whistling through his hair. He remembered that he was high up on a mountain-and that the trees that had once sheltered the summit were now gone.