William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

She pulled up to the gate, waited for the crossbar to rise, then drove out onto Main Street. She hoped she didn’t have to get into a big argument with the boss when she showed up. He had not been happy with her when last she spoke to him. And now she’d been out of contact for almost two weeks. He must be pissed royally. He’s probably fired me a thousand times over.

But who was she kidding? When he got a whiff of what she had now, he’d be desperate to rehire her. For that matter, given what she now knew, almost any paper around would be happy to have her on the staff.

This was the chance she’d been waiting for, she told herself. Her ticket out of the tabloids. A whole new start. The beginning of something bigger. And better. And-

The hand emerging from the backseat clamped down on her right shoulder. “Time’s up, Tess.”

It was as if the whole world suddenly went silent. Time was suspended; she felt frozen. The sound of the air rushing around her was deafening.

Someone was in the backseat of the car.

Tess screamed, but this time, no one heard. She tried to wrench herself away, but the arm came forward and wrapped itself around the base of her throat.

“Stop the car, Tess.”

Like hell she would. She floored it, barreling down the street, blazing through an intersection. Maybe if she drove crazy enough, she could attract a little law enforcement attention.

The hand left her throat and clamped down on the steering wheel. The two of them grappled for control, Tess tugging one way, the arm from the backseat tugging the other. While the car continued to accelerate. Forty-five, fifty. Fifty-five, sixty …

All at once, the Taurus spun out of control. The car skidded sideways, trunk first, spiraling down the street. Tess pumped the brakes, but she was too late. The yellow brick wall-the north wall of Canfield’s Grocery-came looming up in her windshield.

The car impacted the wall with a heart-stopping crash. Glass and metal splintered and flew, smoke streamed in all directions. The front end was so severely smashed that the hood was nearly invisible; the wall reached almost to the driver’s seat.

The car stopped moving.

And so did Tess.

Ben watched as the sergeants-at-arms opened the back doors of the gallery and allowed the spectators to pour into the courtroom. He was impressed; it was a respectable showing, particularly for a small town like Magic Valley. Few seats were vacant. There was a tangible sense of excitement in the room, a feeling of anticipation. A realization that much was at stake.

Of course, Ben mused, when a capital murder case is being tried, there are always high stakes. A man could lose his life. But the sad fact was, that grim possibility was the least of the concerns of most of the people in the courtroom.

The largest and loudest contingency was from the logging establishment. They were easy to pick out; they were all huddled together on the left-hand side of the courtroom. Jeremiah Adams sat in the very front of the pack, where everyone could see him, and Ben had a hunch he wasn’t here just as a proud papa who wanted to see his little girl in action. He was a representative, a symbol almost, for all the younger loggers huddled behind him. A senior statesman for the lumberjack crowd.

The exception to the rule was Slade. He was sitting on the opposite side of the gallery, in the back row, alone and apart. Ben wasn’t surprised. After all, technically he had no connection to the logging industry. Not officially, anyway. Officially, he was just an independent contractor doing some consulting work. Probably most of the loggers didn’t even know who he was or how much he had done for their noble cause.

Ben also spotted some representatives from the Green Rage camp-what was left of it. Al and Rick were still in much too bad shape to spend the day sitting on a hard bench in a muggy courtroom, but Maureen was there, and Deirdre and Molly and Doc and a few of the others. Ben had told them that they didn’t have to attend, that it might even be best if they didn’t, but they had insisted on being there to support Zak.

Whatever. Ben was just glad they were alive. After that stupid stunt with the chain and the trucks, the loggers were seeing blood. Luckily, Ben had managed to get to the sheriff’s office before any major damage was done. Deputy Andrews, a young but enthusiastic member of Sheriff Allen’s office, had immediately jumped into action, racing to the scene with sirens screaming. He showed up just about the time the loggers caught the Green Rage crew. They managed to land a few punches before scattering, but nothing more. The owners of the pickups filed complaints, of course, but they had no means of proving who had sabotaged their vehicles.

Just as Green Rage couldn’t prove who had destroyed their camp the night before.

And so the circle of hate went on and on and on.

There were a few people in the gallery Ben didn’t recognize. Townsfolk, he assumed. Locals with an abiding interest in law and order. Or maybe they just didn’t have cable.

Ben saw another familiar face push through the back doors. It was Al! Ben hadn’t seen him since his last visit to the hospital, but he seemed to be doing fine. His step was a little slow, but he was getting around just the same.

To Ben’s surprise, Al stopped and exchanged a few whispered words with Jeremiah Adams. Talk about opposites attracting, Ben mused. What could those two possibly have to discuss?

There was a commotion in the back of the courtroom. Sheriff Allen and two of his deputies were bringing in the prisoner. As soon as they started down the nave, some of the loggers began to hiss. Epithets were hurled. A few of the men looked as if they might jump out and start a fight, but Sheriff Allen held them in check with a steely look.

Zak ignored it all. Ben was glad to see him maintaining his composure. He was looking good, all in all. He had gotten the suit Ben had sent over and had the sense to wear it. He’d also had an opportunity to groom himself; he’d cut his hair shorter, shaved, washed. Altered his general appearance from crazed eco-terrorist to Ricky Nelson.

Sheriff Allen escorted Zak to his chair at the defendant’s table and removed his cuffs. “He’s in your hands now, counselor.”

“Thanks, Sheriff. And please pass on my thanks again to Deputy Andrews. If it hadn’t been for him, that mob would’ve torn those Green Ragers apart.”

“Will do.” The sheriff tipped his hat. Ben saw him glancing in Christina’s general direction. “By the way, do you suppose-”

“Sorry. We work during lunch when a trial is in progress. Probably dinner, too.”

“Oh. Well. Too bad.” He shuffled into the back of the gallery and found an empty seat.

Ben turned his attention to his client. “How’re you doing, Zak?”

“I’m fine. What the hell’s happening to Green Rage?” His forehead was creased with anger.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, first Al, then Rick in the hospital! Rick and Maureen and Tess kidnapped and whipped. Deirdre’s equipment smashed. The camp destroyed.”

So he’d had a visitor. Someone who’d brought him up-to-date. Ben had intentionally not told him anything; he wanted his attention focused on the trial and the trial alone. “It’s retaliation, of course,” Ben said. “They’re trying to get back at you. Trying to scare you off.”

“Man, this is unacceptable! I’ve put too much time into this organization. I do not want to see it destroyed.”

Ben laid a hand on his shoulder. “Zak, I know this is important to you, but it’s not what this trial is about. Right now I need your energy focused on this courtroom. One hundred percent.”