William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

“Then you didn’t-”

Zak looked directly into Ben’s eyes. “Didn’t kill that logger? Of course I didn’t. Did you think I did?”

“I-” Ben coughed. “Well, I couldn’t be sure until …”

“Ben, listen to me. I didn’t kill Gardiner. I didn’t bomb that tree cutter. I don’t know what happened out there.”

Ben listened to Zak’s words and stared deeply into his eyes. He wanted to believe him. He wanted the relief, the absolution that would come from knowing this man he had put back on the streets had not committed murder. But that assurance was not coming easily.

He continued questioning. “Why do the police think you did it?”

“I’m the obvious suspect. And police love obvious suspects.”

That part was true enough. “Why did they think of you?”

“I’m the leader of Green Rage. Green Rage is the group they most want to get rid of. Therefore, cut off the head-”

“There must be something more.”

Zak hesitated. “I-have worked with bombs before. I know a fair amount about them. In fact, I have-” He drew in his breath. “Well, I might as well come out with it. I have a felony conviction. Conspiracy to make a destructive device.”

Ben pressed his hand against his brow. “Oh, God.”

“It was all trumped up. We were going to blow some tree cutters, that’s all.”

Ben stood. “So when some poor logger was killed in a tree-cutter explosion-”

Zak tilted his head. “You got it. Obvious suspect.”

Ben frowned. He had been reluctant to take this case in the first place, and he was already beginning to regret it. “Did you know this logger?” He checked his notes. “Dwayne Gardiner?”

There was a moment of silence before Zak answered. Was it hesitation or was he just catching his breath? “No, I didn’t know him. Why should I? I don’t hang out with loggers.”

“Do you have an alibi? For the time of the murder?”

Zak shook his head. “I was in the forest. Searching for that tree. Or Bigfoot.”

“There’s no one who can vouch for you?”

“There is. Another member of Green Rage-her name is Molly. She was with me all night long. We’re-” He grinned. “I expect you can figure it out. Anyway, I’m sure she’ll testify.”

“Well, that’s something. What else do they have on you?”

Zak shrugged. “That’s all I know. You think there’s more?”

“They can’t be basing this prosecution solely on your prior record. I’m going to have to chat with the prosecutor. Is there anything else relevant that you haven’t told me?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Don’t just think. Be certain.”

“Okay, I’m certain.”

Ben leaned closer. “Listen to me, Zak. I’m your lawyer. Anything you tell me is absolutely privileged. I can’t repeat it, and even if I did, no one could use it against you. But if there’s more bad evidence out there-and there must be-I need to know about it. If I know the strikes against us, I can prepare for them, soften the blow. If I get blindsided, you’ll just be hosed. So tell me what you know. Tell me everything.”

“I have,” Zak insisted. “I’ve told you everything. There’s nothing more.”

“I hope to God that’s right.” He started gathering up his belongings. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Ben.” Zak grabbed his arm, brought him back around till they were face-to-face. “Ben, I did not kill that man. I’m telling the truth. I had nothing to do with it.”

Ben stared back at him. He had rarely seen such an earnest expression in his life. How could he not believe him? “All right then. I’ll do everything I can to help you. Let me get to work.”

Zak released his arm. “I really appreciate this, Ben. Really.” His wide-eyed grin returned. “Hell, I haven’t felt this good since I was arrested. I’m back in the hands of Ben Kincaid. Hallelujah! The man who saved me once will do it again. I know you will. Hell, if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be standing here now!”

Yes, Ben realized, that was absolutely the truth. If Ben hadn’t gotten him off the last time he was charged with murder …

But, Ben thought, as the sheriff opened the cell door, there were some things he preferred not to dwell upon.

Ben wandered around the Magic Valley county courthouse for a full fifteen minutes before he finally acknowledged that he was not going to find the district attorney’s office on his own. Although it went against every male bone in his body, he relented, went against instinct, and asked for directions.

The DA.’s office was in the basement, as it turned out-not exactly the first place you would look. Once he stepped through the double glass doors, though, he recognized all the advantages of the location. It was private and quiet-much more so than the rest of the courthouse, which was playing host to a dozen different civic functions at once. Even better, the space was expansive-more than sufficient to provide adequate room for the staff and spacious offices for those at the top of the totem pole.

And the face at the very top of the totem pole was Granny’s. If Ben didn’t know it before, he certainly knew it when he saw her office-more than twice the size of any of the others, decorated in an upscale, high-gloss style that would have fit nicely into any of the many Tulsa law firm offices Ben had visited.

“So you’re taking on the Gardiner case.” Granville Adams-Granny, at least to her friends-slid out of the chair behind her desk. She was not tall, but what she lacked in height she made up in bearing. Ben had rarely met anyone who so immediately impressed him with such self-confidence. She walked right up to him-closer than most would, intentionally violating his personal space. The fact that she was devastatingly, almost aggressively attractive made the intrusion all the more difficult to ignore.

“Word travels fast in a small town.”

Her lips turned up, something between a grin and a smirk. “Word travels to me, anyway. There’s not much goes on around here I don’t know about.”

Ben didn’t doubt it for a minute. “I came by to see what you could tell me about the Gardiner murder.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I would be inclined to tell you anything?”

“Oh, I don’t know. The United States Constitution, maybe?”

Again with the smile/smirk. “If you’re asking for any potentially exculpatory evidence in the prosecution’s possession, I’ll provide it at our earliest convenience. If you’re asking me to explain the prosecution case to you, forget it.”

So, Ben thought, she was going to be one of those prosecutors. Why was he not surprised? “I’d like that evidence as soon as possible. And all your exhibits. And a list of witnesses you intend to call at trial.”

“I’ll do what I can. But no promises. We’re very busy.”

“That’s not good enough. I’ve already missed the preliminary hearing. The case is set for trial. I barely have time to make the essential motions. I certainly don’t have time to mud-wrestle you over fundamental discovery issues.”

“Mud-wrestling, huh?” Her golden eyebrows danced just beyond Ben’s nose. “Sounds kinky.”

Ben swallowed. What was it the sheriff had compared her to? A black widow? “If you don’t comply, I’ll be in the judge’s office first thing in the morning making motions for sanctions. And a continuance.”

She held up her hands. “Calm down, calm down. No need to use those big-city tactics on me. I’m just a small-time country prosecutor, remember?”

Yeah right, Ben thought. And Lucretia Borgia was just a bad cook.

“Take a seat, Kincaid. Let’s talk turkey.” She pointed toward a plush cushioned seat and positioned herself behind her desk. “I know you’re not from around here. What’s your interest in this case, anyway?”