Dark Justice (49 page)

“Of course.”

“Zak, did you know Dwayne Gardiner?”

Before answering, Zak glanced quickly at Granny, who was sitting at the prosecution table. That was odd, Ben thought. Why would Zak be checking her? “Not really,” Zak answered. “The first and only time I ever met him was when he stopped me in the hallway in that bar, just before he died.”

“What did he want?”

“The account you’ve already heard was essentially accurate,” Zak said, turning toward the jury. “He had just found out his wife was having an affair, and he was angry about it. He threatened me. I tried to calm him down—without much luck.”

“Did you threaten him?”

“Absolutely not. I am a firm believer in nonviolence. I would use force only in defense, and fortunately, it didn’t come to that.”

“Did you purchase bomb materials at Georgie’s pawnshop?”

“I did.”

“Did you say, ‘I’m going to teach a logger a lesson he’ll never forget’?”

“No, I did not. That’s one part the witness got wrong. I was trying to explain the conservationist’s viewpoint, how inflexible the logging industry is. I said, ‘I’m going to teach some loggers a lesson they’ll never forget.’ ”

“And what did you mean by that?”

“I meant that if they tried to harm us, or the forest, as of course they have repeatedly, Green Rage would take action to defend ourselves. In the same nonviolent manner that we always have.”

“Now Zak,” Ben said, “you say you’re nonviolent, but you’ve also admitted using bombs. In most people’s eyes, bombs are pretty violent.”

“True. I guess what I should be saying is, we respect human life. We might hurt machinery in order to save a forest. But we would never harm a human being. Never.”

“Zak, I’m going to have to ask you an unpleasant question now. Were you having an affair with Dwayne Gardiner’s wife?”

His lips made a little frown. “Yes. I’m not proud of that. It was a mistake. But I should point out that when I first met Lu Ann, over at Bunyan’s, I didn’t know she was married, and she didn’t tell me, either. I didn’t know till almost a week later—and even then I didn’t hear it from her. By that time, well, things had already gone too far.”

“Did you think about breaking up with her?”

“I did break up with her. Told her it was over. She wasn’t happy about it, either. I gather relations between her and her husband were not too hot. Anyway, she was really mad—screamed and shouted, threatened me.”

“And was this before or after Dwayne Gardiner confronted you?”

“Before. I figure it was only after she got ticked off at me that she told him. That’s why the whole thing was so stupid—here he was yelling at me about an affair, and I’d already terminated the thing on my own.”

Ben checked the jury out the corner of his eye. Having his client participate in adultery was never going to be a selling point, but Ben was convinced it was better to be up front about the negatives than to try to hide them. Juries were smarter than most people gave them credit for—and they were more likely to be forgiving to a confessed sinner than to a liar.

“Have you seen Lu Ann Gardiner? Since you terminated the relationship?”

“Not once. When it was over, it was over.”

“Did you bear any ill will toward Dwayne Gardiner?”

“Of course not. If anyone had an axe to grind, it was him, not me.”

“You didn’t have any bad feelings toward him?”

“No. I was sorry he disagreed on the environmental issues—I wish we could get more loggers to see things from our long-term global perspective, rather than from their narrow economics-based viewpoint. But I had no grudge against him in particular.”

“Thank you. Now I’m afraid I’m going to have to take you back to the night of the murder. The early morning, actually. Okay?”

Zak shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t say anything.

“Where were you at one
A.M.
on July thirteenth?”

Zak was still antsy, shifting. His eyes darted around the courtroom. “I … um …

“Excuse me?”

Zak licked his lips. “I … uh … can’t answer that.”

Ben’s head fell forward. “What?”

“I … I’m sorry. I can’t answer the question.”

“You
what
?” Ben stared across the courtroom, utterly befuddled. What the hell was going on here?

“I’m sorry, I just—ask me something else.”

Ben was incredulous. Zak had systematically undermined his defense at almost every point. And now he was spoiling his own testimony.

“Zak, you didn’t program the bomb to explode when the ignition was turned, did you?” It was a leading question, but Granny didn’t seem interested in objecting.

“You mean … on the night of the murder, right?”

“Well, of course!” Ben tried to control himself. He couldn’t believe this.

“I’m sorry, then.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked down. “I can’t answer that question, either.”

“Zak?” Ben didn’t know what to do, what to say. In all his years he had never encountered anything like this. “Zak, this is critical. You have to answer.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t and I won’t.”

The hell with subtlety. Ben cut to the highlight of his outline. “Zak, did you plant a bomb for the purpose of killing Dwayne Gardiner?”

He did not look up. “I’m sorry. I can’t answer.”

The buzz in the courtroom was growing audible and distracting. Everyone in the gallery seemed just as mystified as Ben.

“Well, look,” Ben said, “you’re on the stand, and you’ve sworn to tell the truth. So you don’t have the option of silence. Answer the question.”

Zak shook his head. “I won’t.”

“I insist.”

“I’m sorry, no.”

Ben looked up at the bench. “Your honor?”

Judge Pickens leaned forward. He was obviously just as confused as everyone else. “Son, you’re on the witness stand. You have to answer the question.”

“I’m sorry. No disrespect intended. But I won’t answer.”

Pickens’s chest swelled. “Son, I don’t think you understood me properly. I didn’t ask you—I told you. Answer the question!”

“No. I won’t.”

“I will find you in contempt of court!”

“You can’t make me answer,” Zak said, looking away. “I’m taking the fifth.”

Judge Pickens’s lips parted. “Are you telling me,” he said finally, “that you’re taking the fifth—when your own lawyer is asking the questions?”

“That’s right. I won’t answer. Should I go?”

The buzz in the courtroom was building into a roar.

“Zak,” Ben said urgently, “this is your last chance. You must answer.”

“No.” He rose to his feet. “Can I go now?”

Judge Pickens’s mouth was still gaping. “I—I don’t—” He turned. “Madame Prosecutor, you can still attempt to cross, if you wish.”

“I don’t see the point,” Granny said. “I think it’s clear to everyone what’s happened here. Let’s just wrap the trial up and let the jury do its work. Let justice be done.”

Zak was excused from the bench. “Anything else from the defense?” Judge Pickens asked.

Ben couldn’t believe it. His entire defense consisted of a theory that fell apart, an alibi witness who had lied, and a defendant who took the fifth.

His mind raced, grasping for something, anything, that he could possibly put before the jury. But nothing came. He had played every card in his hand.

There was no point in stalling. Whether he liked it or not, he had nothing else. “No, your honor, the defense rests.”

“Very well. We’ll resume in fifteen minutes for closing arguments.” Pickens banged his gavel, and the courtroom went into an uproar.

Ben was still at the podium trying to make some sense of what had happened. Everyone in the courtroom seemed befuddled—judge, jury, spectators.

Everyone except the prosecutor. She didn’t seem particularly confused, Ben noted. And she had rattled off that little speech about justice like a pro. Almost like it had been rehearsed.

Zak was off the bench and had returned to defendant’s table. “Zak,” Ben said, “I want to talk to you!”

Zak wouldn’t look at him. “I don’t want to talk to you. Deputy?” He motioned for his escort. “Take me back to my cell.”

“
Zak
!”

He ignored Ben. The deputy hauled Zak toward the back door, leaving Ben in his wake.

Ben stood in the courtroom feeling utterly lost. What the hell was going on here?

He felt someone brush against his shoulder. It was Christina. “Do you understand what just happened?”

“No,” Ben said grimly. “But I know what the result will be.”

G
RANNY SPENT ALMOST AN HOUR
systematically reminding the jury of the enormous body of evidence pointing toward George Zakin. The fingerprints. The footprints. The eyewitness testimony. Zak’s history with explosives. The personal grudge between victim and accused. The threat made just before the murder.

And she also pointed out that Zak had lied—that he had initially denied knowing Gardiner, denied planting the bomb. That he had bragged about the murder to a fellow prisoner. That he had put a former lover on the stand to lie for him. And even though she didn’t specifically mention it, no juror could possibly forget Zak taking the fifth, refusing to talk to his own lawyer. “With all the evidence that’s before you,” Granny argued, “can you honestly say that there is any reasonable doubt about what happened? We all know what happened. Let justice be done. Find George Zakin guilty of murder in the first degree.”

When it was his turn, Ben wasn’t sure what to say. He did his best to conjure up some wisp of reasonable doubt, but he had the strong sense that no one was buying it. Molly’s testimony had been a hard blow for the defense, but Zak’s performance had created a barrier he just couldn’t get around. How could he explain it? He didn’t understand it himself. All he could do was avoid the subject. And there were few things more pathetic than a closing argument that avoids the subject weighing most heavily on the jurors’ minds.

When arguments were completed, Judge Pickens reviewed the lengthy jury instructions. He dismissed the jurors, but instructed them to be back in the courtroom at nine to begin deliberations.

Nine
A.M.
, Ben thought. We’ll have the bad news before lunch.

Ben left the courtroom feeling more depressed than he ever recalled feeling in his life. Despite everything, his gut still told him Zak had not committed this murder. So why was he so determined to be convicted for it?

Ben parted with Christina. There was no more work to do; best that they both had some quiet time to brace themselves for the disaster that was surely coming.

Outside his hotel, on the street, Ben saw Maureen. She appeared to be waiting for him. “Hiya, Mo. How are you?”

“Stiff as a board,” she answered. “I’ve spent the day with my arms stuffed in concrete barrels.”

“What, still? After what happened to Doc?”

“We have no choice.” Ben peered into her red, tired eyes. “It’s not like I wanted to. But those damn loggers are still trying to get into the forest. They weren’t taking a holiday to mourn Doc’s death. So we couldn’t either.” She turned slightly. “You can’t believe the day I’ve had.”

Ben almost smiled. “This hasn’t exactly been a red-letter day for me, either.”

“Trial didn’t go well?”

Ben averted his eyes. “I’m afraid it … it doesn’t look too good for Zak at this point.”

“Oh,” she said, barely audibly.

“I’m sorry I don’t have better news for you.”

“The whole group seems to be falling apart. Despite everything, our effort is failing. I can feel it. And I’m worried about Al.”

“Al? What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s Doc. Al was right there when it happened, you know. Right beside him. Al’s been uptight since the kidnapping, the whipping …” She shook her head. “But now he’s over the brink. It’s like something snapped inside him. I was chained to his barrel today, so I got to hear him rant for hours.”

“What was he saying?”

“Crazy stuff. Didn’t really make sense, most of it. Said he had something on the loggers, some secret. Said they were going to pay for what they’d done.” She looked up abruptly. “He was consumed with hate. The same hatred I saw in the eyes of the loggers standing outside the barricade, calling us names, spitting on us.” She drew in her breath. “I’m worried that Al is going to try something … dangerous. He’s been staying out late at night, wandering in the forest, not telling anyone what he’s doing. I’m just afraid.” She peered up at Ben. “And I really couldn’t stand to lose another member. I just—couldn’t—” Her voice broke off.

Ben laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “Well, try not to worry about it.”

“I have to worry about it. The only experienced members I’ve still got are Deirdre and Al, and Al is—” She couldn’t complete her sentence. All at once she pressed herself into Ben’s arms. “My God, Ben, we can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

Ben raised his hand and gently stroked her hair. “I know.”

“You wouldn’t think it would be so hard. All we want is to preserve what little is left. To keep some remnant of the natural world for our children.”

“I know.”

Her face turned up, and Ben saw tears trickling down her cheeks. They paused, the two of them, frozen for a moment, feeling the distance between them.

“You know, Ben,” she said quietly, “the trial is all but over now, and we said that when the trial was over we might … spend some time together. You remember?”

“I remember,” Ben said, gazing into her eyes. “Very well.”

Their two faces moved closer together, lips parted, each inexorably inching toward the other …

“Now this is a cozy scene, ain’t it?”

Ben and Maureen broke apart. On the side of the street, a large black sedan had pulled up next to them. Two men jumped out the side doors. Ben didn’t recognize either of them, but they had a distinctly thuggish appearance.

Ben pushed himself in front of Maureen. “What do you want?”

“Want to have us a little powwow,” the first man said. He grabbed Bens arm and jerked him toward the car.

“Leave me alone!” Ben shouted. He tried to break away, but the man held him tight with a viselike grip. An instant later, the other man was behind him, shoving him forward. He fell headfirst into the backseat of the sedan.