Dark Justice (54 page)

Zak turned his head. “I … don’t think I can.”

“Zak, look at me.
Look. At. Me
!” Zak grudgingly turned his head. “Have you learned nothing from this whole experience?”

“Like … don’t get thrown in jail in small towns?”

“No, you idiot. Like, it’s always best to tell your lawyer the truth. Think about it. You lied about the Sasquatch suit, and that was the first major strike against us. You lied about the bomb, and that was the second major blow. And you lied about Gardiner’s wife, and that nearly crucified us! So for once, just once in your stupid life, would you tell me the truth?”

“I don’t know … I’m gonna have to think about it.”

“Zak, let me do the thinking, okay? Frankly, it isn’t exactly your specialty.” Ben reached through the bars, grabbed Zak’s shirt, and yanked him against the door. “Tell me what happened. Now.”

G
RANNY’S OFFICE HADN’T CHANGED
much, Ben observed, and neither had she. The office was still a mess; if anything, there were even more stacks of files and even more crumpled fast-food wrappers than before. She was on the phone, apparently giving an interview. No, she didn’t consider the new revelations about the Gardiner murder a personal setback. She believed the whole town, including hard-working civic servants like herself, had been manipulated by a self-serving cadre of drug pushers, environmental fanatics, and lawyers, all working in concert to thwart justice. To the contrary, it was a testament to the zealous and unflagging efforts of her office that they were finally able to uncover the truth.

Ben had to smile. As if she had had anything to do with it.

When she was finally finished, she hung up the phone. “Why are you here, Kincaid? Just come to gloat?”

“No, I wanted to talk with you.”

“Yeah? Well, the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“It’s very important.”

Granny glanced at the clock on the wall. “I can give you five minutes. Assuming I don’t get bored first.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” Ben reached into his briefcase. “Your first ethical violation, in my opinion, was when you produced important documents buried in a sea of extraneous paper—all printed in red ink.”

She waved him away. “I later corrected that … inadvertent error.”

“On the eve of trial, yes. But it unquestionably compromised my defense.”

Granny made a great show of yawning. “Sorry, Kincaid, but you’re not beating the boredom test.”

“Your second ethical violation was the suppression—even destruction—of exculpatory evidence. That’s more than just an ethical violation—that’s a criminal offense. Obstruction of justice. You had a whole file on Alberto Vincenzo, and you knew—or thought, anyway—it was relevant to the Gardiner case. But you didn’t produce it.”

“What file? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you had it.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“I can’t.”

Granny settled back in her chair. “Anything else, Kincaid?”

“Your third ethical violation was bribing Marco Geppi to fabricate a false jail-cell conversation to hang Zak. That’s more than just an ethical violation, too. That’s suborning perjury.”

She fluttered her eyes. “And you can’t prove that either, right?”

“We’re looking for Geppi. But he blew town and crawled back into the woodwork as soon as you released him. As I’m sure you anticipated he would.”

“Time’s almost up, Kincaid.”

“And your fourth and most heinous ethical violation was when you blackmailed Zak into tanking on the witness stand. You’ve done some pretty evil things, Granny, but screwing with the testimony of a man on trial for his life—that’s just beyond the pale.”

“Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You will. Zak told me all about it.”

“The embittered defendant and his attorney try to strike back against the prosecutor. It’s all too trite. No one will believe it.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Who knows this town, Kincaid? You or me?”

“I still think that when—”

“It’s hopeless. You have no proof.”

“I will.” Ben leaned forward. “You see, now that Zak doesn’t have a murder charge hanging over his head, he’s going to talk about how you tried to blackmail him into silence. In detail. He’ll tell everyone—locals, Feds. He’ll go on television if he has to. And eventually we’ll find someone who knows something. Maybe the deputy who admitted you to the jailhouse. Maybe another prisoner who overheard something. Maybe Geppi will reappear. If Zak makes a big enough fuss, something will shake out.”

“He’d better not.” Granny sprang forward like a panther. “You tell that little prick that if he opens his mouth, his sister’s ass is grass. I wasn’t kidding around with him. She won’t see the sun for ten years!”

“Thank you very much.” Ben pulled his hand out of his coat pocket to reveal a tiny Sony tape recorder. “I agree that I would’ve had a hard time making the charges stick just based on Zak’s word. But your confession might do the trick.”

Granny’s eyes went wide. Her face was a vivid red. “Confession? I didn’t confess—”

Ben smiled, then rose to his feet. “We’ll let the U.S. Attorney decide about that, okay?”

Granny ran around her desk. “Give me that tape, Kincaid.”

“No chance.”

Her face twisted up in a knot. “You’ll give me that tape if I have to beat you to a bloody fucking pulp.” She looked like she could do it, too.

It was Ben’s turn to feign a yawn. “A threat of violence. It’s just too trite.”

She clenched up her fist. “I’ll show you trite—”

“
Loving
?”

From just outside, Ben’s enormous investigator poked his head through the door. “Need somethin’, Skipper?”

“I don’t know.” He smiled at Granny. “Do I?”

Granny’s face was livid. She looked as if she might explode at any moment. But she kept her mouth shut.

Ben gathered his briefcase and headed toward the door. “See you in court, Granny.”

B
EN STOOD AT THE
crest of the hill and gazed out at the forest all around him. This was the same location to which he had been brought by force only a few days before, but now everything was different. The landscape was so changed that an unknowing observer gazing at Before and After photos would never have guessed they were of the same site. Probably wouldn’t have guessed they were of the same planet.

The shack was entirely gone, burned. All that was left was blackened rubble—and not much of that. A thick gray ash powdered the hillside.

The verdant view that once crested the hill was now black. Black and black and black. Burned beyond recognition. Plants, ground cover, trees. The fire had spread hundreds of feet in all directions before the team from the Forest Service had managed to extinguish it. What once had been a thriving example of nature’s wonder in all its bounty was now nothing but charred desolation.

As Ben had said before, he was no nature lover. But gazing out at this waste, this ruin, this spoilage—it just made him want to cry.

But he held it back. He didn’t have time for such indulgences. He had work to do.

He saw Maureen drive up the blackened road, park, climb out of her Jeep. He hadn’t visited her since he left the infirmary. He was glad to see her again; she looked much better now.

And a few minutes after that, Ben saw a bright red pickup driven by Jeremiah Adams—head foreman of the Magic Valley sawmill, lifelong logger, supervisor, and father of the former Magic Valley district attorney.

“What the hell’s she doing here?” Adams said as soon as he spotted Maureen. “You didn’t tell me there were gonna be any of them here.”

Maureen wasn’t any happier to see him than he was to see her. “It seems Ben neglected to give either of us many details. What’s up, Ben?”

Ben braced himself. He knew this was not going to be easy. “I just wanted to get the two of you together. You’re both the respective local heads of your factions now, and—well, I just wanted you to talk. Explore possibilities. Consider one another’s needs and wants. See if you can’t maybe put an end to all the hate and violence and turmoil and just—work things out.”

Adams ripped off his cap and swore. “Jesus H. Christ.”

Maureen rolled her eyes. “Where do you live anyway, Ben? Disneyland?”

“I’m serious. You’re both adults. There’s no reason why you can’t sit down and talk.”

“To what end?” Maureen said bitterly. “He’s never going to agree with me.”

“She’s right,” Adams added. “I ain’t never gonna agree with her.”

“You don’t have to agree with each other,” Ben said. “Just try to understand each other.”

“I understand her,” Adams said. “She cares more about trees than she does about people.”

“And he cares more about making a buck than he does about our natural resources.” She looked at Ben sharply. “See? We understand each other perfectly.”

“Would you listen to one another? You sound like children. Turning important issues into a playground squabble.”

They both folded their arms. Neither spoke.

“You have to think of something,” Ben continued. “Some solution. You’ve got to stop labeling each other villains and treating each other accordingly. Don’t you see?” He stepped forward, arms outstretched. “It’s all a matter of perspective. No one thinks of themselves as a bad guy. No one intends to be evil—they do what they do for a reason. Green Rage destroys equipment—to save the trees. The loggers harass the environmentalists—to save their jobs. They both believe in what they’re doing. Granny subverts trial procedure—to keep criminals off the streets. Even Sheriff Allen had a reason for his horrible actions. None of us are all good or all evil. Labeling your opponent as evil doesn’t help. The only solution is to work together and try to come to an understanding.”

“We’ll come to an understanding,” Adams said, “when we’ve driven these meddlers out of the forest.”

“Or maybe we’ll drive you out of the forest,” Maureen said emphatically. “We’ve done it before.”

“No,” Ben said. “You have to stop the fighting.”

Adams pursed his thin lips. “Bull.”

“Ditto,” Maureen said. “We’ll keep fighting. We have to.”

“You
can’t
keep fighting!” Ben shouted.

“We have to,” Maureen insisted. “If we keep fighting, we’ll win.”

“Wrong. If you keep fighting, you’ll destroy each other.”

“That’s a load of—”

“You don’t know what—”

“
Look
at this!” Ben shouted. He windmilled his hands. “Just look!”

The two antagonists fell silent for a moment and gazed out at their surroundings. The shack was destroyed. The landscape was destroyed. Trees were charred. All that remained as far as the eye could see was black and dead.

“This is what you’ll end up with,” Ben continued. “You’ve been fighting for months, and what has it gotten you? Three people are dead. Millions of dollars worth of equipment on both sides has been ruined. Wasted. And four hundred old-growth trees burned, right here on this hilltop. And to accomplish what?
Nothing
, that’s what. Nothing at all.”

He saw Maureen and Adams look at one another, tentative glances out the corners of their eyes. Finally Adams spoke. “We’re not the ones who set that fire.”

“No,” Ben answered, “but if the people you employed hadn’t assaulted Green Rage, hadn’t run poor Doc down, it never would’ve happened. You’re both responsible.”

The two fell silent again. Ben felt a strong breeze whistling through his hair. He remembered that he was high up on a mountain—and that the trees that had once sheltered the summit were now gone.

“Think, Maureen,” Ben said quietly. “You were trapped in that shack, trapped with your enemy, flames all around us. It was hopeless. The only reason we survived is that the two warring factions worked
together
. Slade knew about the radio. You knew how to work it. Slade knew about the generator. You knew how to use it. Slade knew about the well and you both helped pull each other through the fire. If you hadn’t worked together, we’d all be dead now.”

Ben took a deep breath. “People—it’s the same thing here. You’ve got to stop fighting and learn to work together. Before you destroy each other. And everything and everyone caught in the middle.”

Adams was the first to speak, after a long, heavy silence. His voice was much quieter than before. “Won’t make any difference about the Magic Valley forest. It’s all scheduled and prepped. I can’t stop it.”

“I can’t countenance the destruction of any old-growth trees,” Maureen said.

“Talk to each other,” Ben urged. “See if you can’t work out a solution.”

“Why did you haul
me
out here, anyway?” Adams asked. “What makes you think I’d be remotely interested in making peace with these tree huggers?”

“Because you’re the leak,” Ben said flatly.

“What?” Adams’s face twisted up. “What do you mean?”

“You’re the inside man who’s been feeding information to Green Rage about logging activities. You’ve been doing it for months.”

A wide range of expressions fluttered across Adams’s face, till finally it settled into a simple look of resignation. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t—for sure. But I was told repeatedly that Slade and the loggers were looking for a leak, and I knew it had to be someone relatively high in the local logging hierarchy. I saw you whispering with Al in the courtroom the day the trial began, and I couldn’t imagine what you would have to talk about. Unless …”

“I didn’t do anything that would set back the logging,” Adams said firmly. “Or put any of our boys out of work. I just didn’t want anyone to get hurt.”

Maureen’s lips parted. “You did more than that. If you’re Al’s informant—you fed us information that enabled us to blockade the road and stop the illegal harvesting of old-growth trees in the Crescent mountain basin.”

“You see,” Ben said, gently pushing them together. “You two have more in common than you know.”

Maureen raised her eyes to meet Adams’s. Their eyes locked, and for a long moment, neither looked away.

“Well,” Adams said at long last, “I guess I’m willing to try. Can’t hurt to try, I s’pose.” He tentatively held out his hand.