Dark Justice (15 page)

“Surely the company will just replace it.”

“Maybe. But they cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. They might decide this forest has become too expensive for them. Especially if we do it again. And again. And again.”

“Hundreds of thousands of dollars?” Tess said. “We could be charged with grand larceny. Arson.”

“Only if we get caught. Excuse me.”

Al crept down the side of a small slope and entered the clearing. He moved slowly at first, making sure no guard had been posted and no drunken loggers were hanging about. Once he was certain the coast was clear, he moved more quickly. He walked directly to the tree cutter and planted his bundle at the base. He fiddled with it for a few moments, turned, and ran.

“Get down!” he shouted.

Tess and the rest fell back into the trees. They crouched down and covered their heads. Al caught up to them and dived forward. “
Hit the deck!
”

An instant later, the tree cutter exploded. Tess heard the explosion before she saw it. It was as if a sonic boom had sounded inside her eardrums. Even with her head hidden under her arms and buried in the soil, she could feel the intense surge of heat radiating outward. When at last she looked, she saw a raging inferno where a tree cutter once had been, a ball of flame that seemed to spew forth from the bowels of the earth itself.

Pieces of machinery fell to earth all around her. Flames continued to devour the steel contraption. “Are you all right?” Maureen asked.

Tess nodded. “I’m fine. Just a little shaken up.” She couldn’t tell them the truth—that she had seen one of these things exploded before.

Suddenly Tess’s ears were alerted to another sound—voices. They were coming from the clearing on the other side of the burning machine.

“Oh my God,” Maureen said. “Someone’s here.”

“They’ve seen us,” Rick said, clenching his teeth. He looked down at his friend. “Al, are you all right?”

Al pulled himself up to his knees. A trickle of blood lined the side of his face. “I’ll make it.”

The voices were coming closer. In the flickering light provided by the inferno, Tess saw three figures racing forward. Three angry figures. And at least one of them was holding a gun.

“Let’s go!” Rick shouted. They turned and ran, heading back the way they came, this time not in any orderly fashion but all at once, helter-skelter, trying to make as much time as possible.

Tess ran as fast as she could manage, trying not to trip, to fall, to hit anything. She wasn’t sure which prospect scared her more: that the people chasing them would catch her or that her newfound friends would leave her alone in the dark forest.

She didn’t have time to weigh the grim possibilities. She just tried to stay on her feet and to keep them moving.

A gunshot erupted over their heads.

“
Run
!” Rick cried. And Tess ran, with every ounce of energy she could muster.

But the voices were gaining on them.

T
HE INSTANT BEN ENTERED
the courthouse the next morning, he knew something had happened. There was a buzz in the air; every staffer in sight flittered from one ear to another, whispering, shaking heads, doing everything but their jobs. He saw it in the elevators, in the filing room—even in the men’s room. Some tidbit of information was circulating from one person to the next with great alacrity. Unfortunately, no one seemed inclined to share this tidbit with Ben.

For that matter, Ben noticed, no one seemed inclined to share anything with him at all. The word was out, he supposed. He was representing the eco-terrorist, and his stock was valued accordingly. If people spoke to him at all, it was in clipped, essential monosyllables. No one got chatty. Most turned away.

When Ben arrived at the courtroom, Sheriff Allen had already delivered his prisoner—Ben’s client—to the defendant’s table, in handcuffs and coveralls.

“Morning,” the sheriff said, tipping his Smokey the Bear hat as Ben approached.

“Same to you,” Ben said, relieved to hear someone actually talking to him. “Thanks for escorting Zak.”

“It’s my job.” He didn’t move away. Ben could tell there was something else on his mind. Allen shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. “Uhh … look, Mr. Kincaid—”

“Call me Ben.” He wasn’t going to give up a chance to get friendly with someone local. He probably wouldn’t get another one.

“Well … Ben, then. I was wondering …”

Ben instinctively glanced at his watch. The hearing could start at any moment. “Yes?”

“I was wondering …” He cleared his throat. “Wondering if maybe you’ve set up any office space yet?”

“We’ve got some temporary space in the back of that closet you call the public defender’s office. Why? Planning to make an arrest?”

“Well, no.” He fingered the brim of his hat. “Actually, I was hoping to drop by and ask that sweet little legal assistant of yours out to lunch.”

“Didn’t you have lunch with her yesterday? And the day before?”

“Well, yes. Yes, sir, I did. But I didn’t get enough of her.” He let out a sheepish grin. “I haven’t seen anything like her come to Magic Valley for a good long time. She’s a regular ball of fire!”

“Isn’t she, though.” Ben pursed his lips. “We’re going to be very busy. We have a murder trial to gear up for.”

“Oh, I know, I know. But I figured, she’s gotta eat, right?”

“Yeah, right.”

“Unless you’ve got some objection …”

“What am I, her father? What Christina does in her spare time is her business. I need to speak to my client now.”

“Understood.” Sheriff Allen tipped his hat, then headed toward the back of the courtroom.

Ben slid into the chair next to his client. “How’s it going, Zak?”

Zak brushed his hair out of his eyes and grinned. His hair seemed particularly limp and dirty. They probably don’t supply Johnson’s baby shampoo in the slammer, Ben thought.

“I’m all right,” he answered. “Jail time is no walk in the park, but I’m used to it. How’s my case coming? Got any leads?”

“Not yet. But I have managed to get the Green Rage seal of approval.”

“Well, that ain’t no small feat.”

“Zak, I need to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?”

“I had a talk with the prosecutor yesterday, and it was … disturbing. She seems very confident about her case against you.”

“Does that surprise you? She’s got her career on the line. She doesn’t want me messing up her win-loss record.”

“Maybe so. But she also intimated that she had a lot of evidence against you that I don’t know anything about. Do you know what that might possibly be?”

“Sorry, counselor. No idea.”

“Think hard, Zak. This is important.”

He spread his arms. “I’m telling you, I don’t know.”

“She seemed pretty secure about her theory of motive, too, although she didn’t care to share it with me. Any ideas?”

“Oh, hell, that’s not hard to figure. She’s going to say I am a crazed zealot eco-bandit, some tree-loving nutcase who thought he had the right to kill to further his cause. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Maybe. I just don’t want to be caught flat-footed. It’s important that you tell me everything, the good and the bad. If there’s something you’ve held back, please tell me now.”

“Relax, Ben. There’s nothing. Nothing at all. The woman was probably just jerkin’ your chain.”

“And you didn’t know Dwayne Gardiner?”

“Right.”

Ben eased off, but he still wasn’t satisfied. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but the whole situation left him with a very uncomfortable feeling.

“All rise.”

The bailiff brought everyone in the courtroom to their feet. Ben saw that Granny had slipped in at the other table while he was talking to Zak.

“Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Tyrone J. Pickens presiding.”

The judge took his seat at the bench, then peered out into the courtroom. “Well now, looks like old home week, doesn’t it?” He adjusted his glasses and scowled at Ben. “What’d you do this time, son? Rescue a lobster from a seafood restaurant?”

“Uh, no, sir.” Ben cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m not the defendant.”

Judge Pickens pulled a face. “You’re not? Then what’re you doin’ here?”

“I’m counsel for the defendant.” He gestured in Zak’s general direction.

“You’re a lawyer?” Pickens’s eyes widened. “Oh, that’s right. You represented the animal freaks.”

“Not freaks, your honor. They’re people concerned about the unethical treatment of living creatures.”

Pickens sighed. “I can see this is going to be a fun trial.” He took the papers handed to him by the bailiff and skimmed them quickly. “So you’re representing this George Zakin?”

“That’s right, your honor.”

“I see. You’ve regressed from varmint hugging to tree hugging.”

“Your honor, I must ask you not to prejudge—”

“I’m not prejudging anything, son.” He jabbed the gavel in Ben’s direction. “When this trial begins, I’ll be entirely fair and impartial. Doesn’t mean I have to forget all common sense in the meantime.” He shifted his gaze to the other side of the courtroom. “You prosecutin’ this one, Granny?”

“I am, sir.”

“How long is this going to take?”

“I can’t speak for my esteemed opposition,” Granny said, swishing her head so that her radiant hair danced around her shoulders. “But our case won’t take more than a week. Probably less.”

“A week? Damn.” He tossed his bifocals down on the bench. “Don’t you people know it’s fishing season?” He looked up abruptly. “Oh, excuse me, Mr. Defense Attorney. You probably object to fishing, too.”

“Catch and capture, or catch and release?”

“Catch and
release
?” What would be the point of that?”

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?”