William Bernhardt - Perfect Justice

“Thanks.”

“Sorry I didn’t get back from the post office sooner,” Mike said. “My lab people back in Tulsa reached the same conclusion, though. They’re absolutely certain the blood on the crossbow came from Donald Vick. How much longer do you think the trial will last?”

“Two or three days. Why?”

“After yesterday’s riot, it’s just a matter of time before the FBI descends on this town. This is becoming a major civil rights situation.” Mike grimaced. “If you think things are bad now, wait till the FeeBees arrive.”

“Swell. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“If there’s some way I can help,” Mike replied, “let me know. Otherwise I’m going out of town to try to scrounge up helicopter parts. If I don’t replace most of Portia’s engine, I’ll never get her off the ground again.”

“That’s fine,” Ben said. “There’s no point in your hanging around the courtroom watching me get slaughtered.”

“Try to cheer up, Ben. If—”

The bell over the front door rang. All heads turned as Belinda bounced into the office.

“Jones,” Mike said, “don’t we need to be somewhere about now?”

“Not that I can— oof! ” Mike’s elbow in his stomach seemed to jog his memory. “Oh, right. Now I remember.”

“C’mon,” Mike said, grabbing Jones by the arm. “I’ll buy you a drink at the world-famous Bluebell Bar.”

After they left, Belinda sat next to Ben, grinning happily. “How’s it coming, lover boy?”

“Not well, I fear.”

“Nice work in the courtroom today.”

“Thanks. But I bet it wasn’t good enough.”

“Ben … you know how I feel about this trial. I—” She paused, then reformulated her sentence. “I don’t know why I’m saying this. But I don’t want to see an innocent man go to prison. Or worse. There’s something you should know.”

Ben looked at her, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Mary Sue’s testimony wasn’t entirely accurate. The conversation at the Bluebell between Vuong and Vick lasted more than a minute or so. It was at least five minutes. Maybe longer. And it wasn’t just Vick getting upset. It was both of them.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there.”

“Wha — !” Ben sat up straight in his seat. “You?”

“Yes. John and I had decided to get out of the office for a bit, so we walked down to the Bluebell for a drink.”

“And you saw them talk? And fight?”

“Couldn’t miss it. During the fight, Vick’s head got slammed down in the middle of our table.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”

“I told the DA. I didn’t know it would be important to your case. Frankly I thought you’d want to mention that fight as little as possible.”

Ben nodded. “If I were smarter, you’d probably be right. But that’s a big if. ”

Belinda glanced at the papers scattered across his desk. “Do you have much more trial prep to do?”

“Tons. I keep bashing my head up against the same unanswered questions. There’s too much I don’t know. I haven’t had the time I need to investigate this mess.”

Belinda took his hand and pressed it to her breast. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking a little break. …”

Ben removed his hand. “Belinda … I’m really swamped.”

She put her head in the crook of his neck and nuzzled his earlobes. “Not even a little break … ?”

Ben pushed her head away. “I don’t think that’s wise.”

Belinda tried not to look hurt. “Have I done something … wrong?”

“Have you—? Of course not.”

“You seem different today.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. You seem … withdrawn.”

Ben looked away. “Belinda … last night … was …”

“So that’s how it is.” She rose suddenly. “Don’t bother trying to let me down easy. I know how to take a hint.”

“Belinda, wait.”

“Have fun with your trial prep. Lock up when you’re done.” She strode out of the office.

Ben emitted a long sigh. What the hell was wrong with him? Belinda was a spectacular woman and he was—

That was the problem, of course. As strong as his feelings for Belinda were, they only served to remind him of what had gone before. The specters of the past.

And suddenly he was back in Toronto again, and the snow was on the ground and he was bundled to the hilt and he was with—

Ellen. And he was in love.

The images flashed through his head like a montage from an old black-and-white movie. Queen’s College, the church, the exchange student from Scotland, the snowball fight in the quad. And the futon in the attic and the ring and Ellen’s radiant brown hair.

He closed his eyes, trying to stop the flow of images, but they just kept coming. Finals, big plans, the Harbourfront carnival. And then he was at the subway station, and there were tears and shouts and blood was everywhere and—

Ben pressed his hand against his face. Tragedy beyond imagining. And worst of all, he had not kept his promise. He had failed her.

He stood up and kicked the desk. It was years ago, he told himself. Grow up already! Get over it!

He’d been telling himself that for a long, long time, though, and it hadn’t worked yet.

But it would. He pounded the desk, clearing the clutter from his brain. He closed his eyes again and mentally erased all the horrible images, all the wasted moments, all the inescapable consequences from his brain.

He didn’t have time for this. He had to get on with this trial.

And he had to get on with his life.

49.

COLONEL NGUYEN FOUND HIS way home by starlight, following the path illuminated by the twinkling sentinels of the night. In the old days, he recalled, he used to look to them for guidance, for a sense of permanence, for answers. Now they were just white lights in the sky. Silent. Unresponsive. Nothing more.

Lan sat on the front porch Nguyen had only recently reconstructed. Her feet were propped against the railing; her eyes gazed up toward the heavens.

She was as beautiful as the Vietnamese flower for which she was named. Her smooth, tranquil face warmed his heart. It was almost as if there were no danger at all, as if that same porch had not been riddled with gunfire only a few days before.

He sneaked behind her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “The children?”

“In bed.” She took his arm and pulled it close around her.

“Was it difficult?”

“It is worse every night. They are afraid monsters will come in the night. And what can I tell them?” She shook her head sadly. “The monsters do come in the night.”

“How did you get them to sleep?”

“I told them their father would protect them, of course. As he has always done. As he always will do.”

“Perhaps the monsters will not come tonight,” Nguyen said as he sat beside her in the same chair. “Perhaps tonight will be calm.”

“Why do you say that? What have you been doing?”

He paused a moment, then decided it would be better to tell her than to let her imagine something worse. “I strung a trip wire across the entrance to Coi Than Tien.”

“Do you think that will stop them?”

It would be so much easier to lie to her. But he found he could not do it. “No. But at least now, if the black pickup returns, we will hear it coming.”

“Perhaps the conflict is over. Perhaps they will let it die.”

“No,” Nguyen said. “I have overheard Dan Pham and his associates. I do not know exactly what they plan, or when they plan to do it. But I know they contemplate another assault on ASP.”

“Perhaps this trial will quiet their fever.”

“How so?”