William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

Ben shrugged. “I never understood the point of fishing to begin with.”

“Mr. Kincaid, I fear you and I are not going to get along.” He nipped a page in his desk calendar. “We’ll start the trial Monday of next week. Any motions I need to hear?”

“I’ve filed a motion to be admitted to practice before this court pro hac vice” Ben said. “It’s been endorsed by-”

“Right, right, granted.” Judge Pickens grimaced. “I don’t suppose I can keep you out of the courtroom, however much I might like to. You death-qualified, boy?”

“Several times over, your honor.”

“Good thing.” He looked up. “You going for the death penalty, Granny?”

“You better believe it,” she answered.

“Figured as much.” Eyes back to Ben. “So you stay on your toes and handle this thing right. Understand, son?”

“Perfectly.”

“I don’t want the appellate boys hassling me about incompetent counsel. Anything else I can do for you?”

“I haven’t received all of the prosecution’s exhibits.”

Granny looked incredulous. “He just entered his appearance yesterday!”

“But the case has been on the docket for weeks. We specifically requested the medical examiner’s report.”

“Couldn’t lay my hands on it,” Granny said. “Given the short notice. I’m sure it’ll turn up.”

Yeah, right, Ben thought. She was withholding the report for a reason. And he’d have to figure out what that reason was without any help from her.

“Any other motions?”

Ben stepped forward. “Yes, your honor. I’ve filed a motion for change of venue.”

“You got somethin’ against my courtroom, son?”

Heaven forbid. “No, your honor. But I have become aware that there is a certain local hostility toward the group my client leads.”

“After stunts like they pulled last night, what do you expect?”

What had happened? What did everyone in town except him already know about?

There was an awkward pause. “You do know what happened last night, don’t you, son?”

Ben bit down on his lower lip. “Well, actually …”

“Someone used plastic explosives to blow a two-ton tree cutter to kingdom come. That’s a three-hundred-thousand-dollar piece of machinery.”

Ben’s jaw tightened. So they went ahead with their plans, anyway. Damn! “Do we know who did it?”

“Of course we know who did it!” the judge bellowed. “And so do you. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to prove it, but we sure as hell know who did it.”

“Your honor,” Ben said evenly, “I think this incident, and the hostility it’s obviously generating, strengthen my argument for a change of venue. My client can’t possibly get a fair trial here.”

“Well, now, whose fault is that? Did we ask your little friend to come to town and start blowing things up? Did we ask him to get everyone so worked up they don’t feel safe in their own homes? Don’t know whether their next paycheck might be their last?”

“Your honor-”

“From where I’m sitting, it looks like he decided to come here and cause all this trouble. He’s made his bed. Now he can lie in it.”

“Your honor, that’s hardly the legal standard-”

“Are you challenging my ruling?” Judge Pickens thrust the gavel forward with such strength Ben expected it to come sailing toward his head. “Because that’s one thing I will not tolerate in my court!”

“Yes, sir.” Ben knew that if he wanted to appeal, he’d have to do it in writing, to a higher court.

“And while we’re at it, let me point out to you, son, that your predecessor already made a motion for change of venue that was denied, as you’d know, if you’d read the file.”

“I did know, but-”

“And for that matter, he also made a motion for dismissal of charges, for pretrial release on bail, and for suppression of evidence of terrorist activities, all of which I denied. So don’t bother trying again!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there anything else?” Pickens waited not a tenth of a second before pushing himself to his feet and stomping out of the courtroom.

“Court is out of session,” the bailiff announced, just in case there was someone too stupid to figure it out for themselves.

Ben turned back toward his client, but not so quickly he didn’t catch sight of Granny at the next table. She flashed him a confident smile that was all too easy to read. She’d come out of this hearing way ahead-and she’d barely said a word.

Zak tugged the sleeve of Ben’s suit. “Did that go as bad as I think it did?”

Ben tried not to seem unduly concerned. “This is just a pretrial hearing. Judges love to blow off steam when there’s no jury looking on. The trial will be different.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Sheriff Allen came forward to collect his prisoner and escort him back to his jail cell.

Ben collected his materials, loaded his briefcase, and started out of the courtroom. On his way, he noticed for the first time a man sitting in the back row of the gallery. He was middle-aged, balding, slightly overweight, but immaculately dressed in a well-tailored suit.

And he was smiling. As if the hearing had been everything he’d dreamed it might be.

Ben couldn’t help but wonder who the man was. And there was one way to find out …

He extended his hand. “I’m Ben Kincaid.”

The man in the back row took the hand and squeezed. “I’m Amos Slade,” he replied.

Ben froze. Slade? The man he’d heard so much about? The boss man for the infamous Cabal?’

Ben tried to shake a few words out. “I–I think I’ve heard your name mentioned.”

Slade chuckled. “I’ll bet you have.”

“Are you-working for the logging companies?”

Slade’s eyes narrowed slightly, but they remained constantly focused on Ben, never wavering. “I’m … an independent contractor. I run a consulting business.”

“Consulting with logging companies, right?”

Slade shrugged. “At times.”

Ben withdrew his hand before the trembling became too apparent. Maybe it was just the influence of what he’d heard at the Green Rage camp, but somehow this man seemed to radiate evil. “I’d-like to talk to you sometime soon.”

“I’d welcome the opportunity. These days I’m down at the WLE sawmill, just outside of town. Drop by any time.”

“Thank you. I will.” Ben walked out of the courtroom. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t get away from that man fast enough. Every second he stood before Slade, he felt as if he was being evaluated, sized up. Like a shark eyeing a guppy.

The Green Ragers had said Slade was devious, corrupt, unprincipled. And now he believed it. Maybe it was just his overactive imagination, but when Ben looked into those eyes, he thought he saw a man who was willing to do anything to eliminate obstacles that obscured his goal.

Or people who stood in his way.

The medical examiner pulled the slab drawer out of the morgue wall, then whipped the pale green sheet off the corpse with a flourish. “Ta-da!”

Ben Kincaid’s face started turning the same color as the sheet. He covered his mouth with his hand, then pinched his nose.

“He’s been in the deep freeze for a good long time now.” The medical examiner was a middle-aged man named Larry Tobias, with a chubby midsection and a perpetual friendly smile. “There shouldn’t be any smell.”

“There is,” Ben said, trying to talk without opening his mouth.

“Huh. Guess I’ve gotten where I don’t notice anymore.” He observed the distressed expression on Ben’s face. “You did say you wanted to see him, didn’t you?”