There was a moment of silence before Zak answered. Was it hesitation or was he just catching his breath? “No, I didn’t know him. Why should I? I don’t hang out with loggers.”
“Do you have an alibi? For the time of the murder?”
Zak shook his head. “I was in the forest. Searching for that tree. Or Bigfoot.”
“There’s no one who can vouch for you?”
“There is. Another member of Green Rage-her name is Molly. She was with me all night long. We’re-” He grinned. “I expect you can figure it out. Anyway, I’m sure she’ll testify.”
“Well, that’s something. What else do they have on you?”
Zak shrugged. “That’s all I know. You think there’s more?”
“They can’t be basing this prosecution solely on your prior record. I’m going to have to chat with the prosecutor. Is there anything else relevant that you haven’t told me?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Don’t just think. Be certain.”
“Okay, I’m certain.”
Ben leaned closer. “Listen to me, Zak. I’m your lawyer. Anything you tell me is absolutely privileged. I can’t repeat it, and even if I did, no one could use it against you. But if there’s more bad evidence out there-and there must be-I need to know about it. If I know the strikes against us, I can prepare for them, soften the blow. If I get blindsided, you’ll just be hosed. So tell me what you know. Tell me everything.”
“I have,” Zak insisted. “I’ve told you everything. There’s nothing more.”
“I hope to God that’s right.” He started gathering up his belongings. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Ben.” Zak grabbed his arm, brought him back around till they were face-to-face. “Ben, I did not kill that man. I’m telling the truth. I had nothing to do with it.”
Ben stared back at him. He had rarely seen such an earnest expression in his life. How could he not believe him? “All right then. I’ll do everything I can to help you. Let me get to work.”
Zak released his arm. “I really appreciate this, Ben. Really.” His wide-eyed grin returned. “Hell, I haven’t felt this good since I was arrested. I’m back in the hands of Ben Kincaid. Hallelujah! The man who saved me once will do it again. I know you will. Hell, if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be standing here now!”
Yes, Ben realized, that was absolutely the truth. If Ben hadn’t gotten him off the last time he was charged with murder …
But, Ben thought, as the sheriff opened the cell door, there were some things he preferred not to dwell upon.
Chapter 10
Ben wandered around the Magic Valley county courthouse for a full fifteen minutes before he finally acknowledged that he was not going to find the district attorney’s office on his own. Although it went against every male bone in his body, he relented, went against instinct, and asked for directions.
The DA.’s office was in the basement, as it turned out-not exactly the first place you would look. Once he stepped through the double glass doors, though, he recognized all the advantages of the location. It was private and quiet-much more so than the rest of the courthouse, which was playing host to a dozen different civic functions at once. Even better, the space was expansive-more than sufficient to provide adequate room for the staff and spacious offices for those at the top of the totem pole.
And the face at the very top of the totem pole was Granny’s. If Ben didn’t know it before, he certainly knew it when he saw her office-more than twice the size of any of the others, decorated in an upscale, high-gloss style that would have fit nicely into any of the many Tulsa law firm offices Ben had visited.
“So you’re taking on the Gardiner case.” Granville Adams-Granny, at least to her friends-slid out of the chair behind her desk. She was not tall, but what she lacked in height she made up in bearing. Ben had rarely met anyone who so immediately impressed him with such self-confidence. She walked right up to him-closer than most would, intentionally violating his personal space. The fact that she was devastatingly, almost aggressively attractive made the intrusion all the more difficult to ignore.
“Word travels fast in a small town.”
Her lips turned up, something between a grin and a smirk. “Word travels to me, anyway. There’s not much goes on around here I don’t know about.”
Ben didn’t doubt it for a minute. “I came by to see what you could tell me about the Gardiner murder.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I would be inclined to tell you anything?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The United States Constitution, maybe?”
Again with the smile/smirk. “If you’re asking for any potentially exculpatory evidence in the prosecution’s possession, I’ll provide it at our earliest convenience. If you’re asking me to explain the prosecution case to you, forget it.”
So, Ben thought, she was going to be one of those prosecutors. Why was he not surprised? “I’d like that evidence as soon as possible. And all your exhibits. And a list of witnesses you intend to call at trial.”
“I’ll do what I can. But no promises. We’re very busy.”
“That’s not good enough. I’ve already missed the preliminary hearing. The case is set for trial. I barely have time to make the essential motions. I certainly don’t have time to mud-wrestle you over fundamental discovery issues.”
“Mud-wrestling, huh?” Her golden eyebrows danced just beyond Ben’s nose. “Sounds kinky.”
Ben swallowed. What was it the sheriff had compared her to? A black widow? “If you don’t comply, I’ll be in the judge’s office first thing in the morning making motions for sanctions. And a continuance.”
She held up her hands. “Calm down, calm down. No need to use those big-city tactics on me. I’m just a small-time country prosecutor, remember?”
Yeah right, Ben thought. And Lucretia Borgia was just a bad cook.
“Take a seat, Kincaid. Let’s talk turkey.” She pointed toward a plush cushioned seat and positioned herself behind her desk. “I know you’re not from around here. What’s your interest in this case, anyway?”
“I don’t have one,” Ben answered. “I’m just a lawyer representing a client.”
“Your newfound friends aren’t very popular around here; I hope you know that. Those yellow ribbons are in the windows for a reason. Once people find out you’re with Green Rage, you’ll be a pariah, too. I doubt if Emma will let you stay at her place any longer.”
Ben tried not to react. She knew where he was staying. “I’ve been invited to stay at the Green Rage camp.”
She twisted her neck. “Don’t think I’d recommend that, Kincaid. That campsite has been hit twice already, and I suspect the next attack is just a hairbreadth away.”
“Attack? By whom?”
“Don’t know. If I did, I’d file charges against them, wouldn’t I?”
“So you make it a point not to know.”
Her face turned stern. “Are you accusing me of something, Kincaid?”
“No.” Not yet, anyway. “Well, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine. I probably need to stay in town. I’m sure I can find someplace.”
“You know you’re not going to make any money off this case, don’t you? Those tree-hugging hippies don’t have much cash. What little they do have, they spend on bomb ingredients.”
“Maybe I just need the practice.”
“Or maybe you don’t care about money, ’cause you’ve got a rich mommy back in Oklahoma.”
Ben’s eyebrows knitted together. “How do you know-”
“What do you take me for, Kincaid-some rank amateur? I may not live in a big city like you, but don’t mistake me for a rube or you’ll be very, very sorry.” Her face relaxed. “I had you checked out the second I heard you were taking the case. It’s all part of the game.”
“The game? Sounds more like invasion of privacy to me.”
She dismissed his remark with a wave of the hand. “Do you know anyt
hing about the logging industry, Kincaid?”
“I know they cut down a lot of trees.”
She leaned back in her chair, pushing her feet against her desk. The hem of her already short skirt slipped up her thighs. “They do a hell of a lot more than that. The logging industry made this town. Without logging, Magic Valley wouldn’t exist.”
“You mean this area would all just be a huge, untouched, virgin forest? That’d be a shame.”
“What I mean is, there’d be several thousand people with no way to make a living. Once upon a time, this area was one of the most poverty-stricken, economically depressed parts of the country. Starvation and malnutrition were rampant. Logging changed all that.”
“I really don’t see what this has to do-”
“Everyone who lives here is indebted to the logging industry. Everyone. It’s our lifeblood. It runs through our veins.” She sat upright. “So you can imagine how we feel when a pack of would-be anarchists who don’t even live around here stroll into town and start spiking trees and blowing up equipment, trying to shut the logging operations down. From our perspective they’re like vampires.”
“I really don’t see the connection with the Gardiner case.”
She shrugged. “You’ve chosen sides, Kincaid.”
“All I’ve done is-”
“You may not realize it yet, but you’ve made your choice. A very dangerous one. And I suspect you’ve done it because you’re basically a good-hearted person who’s only heard one side of the story.”
“I’m here to try a lawsuit. Not to get involved in local politics.”
“Let me do you a favor, Kincaid.” She scribbled an address on her notepad. “My father has worked for WLE Logging all his life. He’s one of the top foremen at their sawmill just north of here. I’ll tell him you want to make a visit.”
“That’s not nece-”
“I think it is. You need some perspective. After all, you’re an officer of the court. And you’ve aligned yourself with people who are avowed lawbreakers.”
Ben bristled. “If they break the law, it’s for a reason. In the great American tradition of civil disobedience.”
“As best I recall, Thoreau never blew anyone up.” She tore the top sheet off her notepad. “Look, if you’re going to jump into the boiling cauldron, you ought to at least have some clue what’s cooking.” She handed the address to him.
Ben reluctantly took the piece of paper. “Could we possibly talk about the case now?”
Granny grinned, damn near irresistibly, Ben thought. “What do you want to know?”
“Why did you arrest my client for this murder?”
“Because he did it.”
“Could you give me a little more?”
“He had motive, means, and opportunity. Call me simpleminded, but I think that’s enough to bring charges.”
“The motive, I assume, would be Zak’s hostility toward the loggers and the logging industry at large.”
She did not quite look him in the eye. “At the very least. And he certainly had the means. Those Green Rage nuts make no secret of the fact that they’re stockpiling bomb components. To the contrary, they advertise the fact to terrorize the loggers. Every time I turn around they’ve torched another tree cutter or eighteen-wheeler. Those people are insane.”
“It isn’t insane to want to keep the forests from being flattened.”
“Oh, yeah? And how about dressing up in a Sasquatch suit?”
Ben reddened a bit. “I don’t know that the Sasquatch sightings had anything to do with Green Rage. For all I know, it could be a logger plot to make Green Rage look ridiculous.”
Granny leaned back and laughed. “Yeah, right.”
Ben tried to bring the conversation back to the case. “What about opportunity?”
“In case you don’t know it, your man admits he was in the forest around the time of the murder, although he says he was just smooching with some Green Rage floozy. I agree that he was in the woods-planting the bomb that killed Dwayne Gardiner.”
“Even if Zak planted a bomb on the tree cutter, and Gardiner had the misfortune to set it off, that wouldn’t be first-degree murder. It’s just bad luck that Gardiner was around when the bomb went off.”
“I disagree with you. First of all, planting bombs is a felony, and if someone gets killed in the perpetration of a felony, he can be charged with felony murder, which is a first-degree murder charge in this state. But it doesn’t matter.” She paused, allowing Ben to wonder for just a moment. “Because the autopsy report showed that Gardiner had been shot.”
“What? But I thought-”
“Yes, the body was caught in the explosion and burned. We almost didn’t do an autopsy, especially since the fire didn’t leave much to be examined. But being the dutiful soldiers we are, we did the tests. And it turned out the man had been shot.”
“Then he was already dead.”
“We don’t think so. The gunshot appears to have caught the poor man in the shoulder. I’m sure it hurt like hell, but it wasn’t fatal. It was the explosion that killed him. Nonetheless, the fact that he had been shot just before the explosion tells me there was a second person present-a second person with the express, premeditated intent to kill him.” She folded her hands on the desk. “And that, Charlie Brown, is why Zakin has been charged with first-degree murder.”
Ben couldn’t argue with her logic. He would’ve drawn the same conclusions himself. “Anything else linking Zak to the murder?”
“Tons. Footprints. Fingerprints. You name it.” She leaned forward. “Seriously, Ben-and I’m just talking lawyer-to-lawyer now-I don’t want to jinx your good deed for the day, but you’re gonna lose this case. We’ve got that murderous zealot dead to rights. And let me tell you, when the sentence comes down, it’s not going to be pretty. Judge Perkins has a reputation.”
“I’ve heard.”
“Then you know he won’t let Zakin off with a life sentence. That boy’s gonna fry.”
Ben squirmed in his seat. “Appreciate your sensitivity.”
“With all due respect, Ben, the smartest thing you could do is drive your rental car back to the airport and get the hell out of here. This town is on edge. Everyone’s afraid Green Rage will succeed in closing down the logging and they’ll all be out of jobs. Plus we’ve got a drug problem like we’ve never had before. One of those new designer drugs-about ten times more potent than crack-is all over town. We call it Venom because it’s deadly poison to the people who use it. Screws up their head. Tears them apart.”
“And this just happened?”
“In the last few months. It came out of nowhere, and the next thing we knew it was everywhere.”
“I’m sure that’s-”
“The point is, Magic Valley is a tinderbox, Kincaid, and you don’t want to be caught in the middle when the explosion comes.”
Ben pushed himself out of his chair. “I will expect you to send me any exculpatory evidence. And all your exhibits. And your witness list.”
She sighed. “You’ll get it. You’ll get it.” She slid out from behind her desk and sashayed across the office till she was standing even closer to him than before. “And then maybe, when this unpleasant mess is all over, you and I can relate to one another on a more … personal basis.”
Ben coughed. “What do you-”
She leaned closer. “Like I said, I’ve done some checking on you, Mr. Kincaid. You’re an impressive individual.” She touched his shirt, only for an instant, but more than long enough to send an electric charge coursing through Ben’s body. “I’d like to get to know you better.”
Ben took a step backward, bumping into the chair. “I’d better go,” he said, trying hard to modulate his voice. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”
As he passed through the door, he caught a last fleeting glimpse of her, a look of sly amusement on her face, wiggling her fingers. “Stay in touch.”
Chapter 11
Compared to the expansive layo
ut of the district attorney’s spread, the public defenders office was a hole-in-the-wall in a separate building half a mile from the courthouse. Ben supposed he should be pleased that a town this small even had a public defender’s office, but he couldn’t help wondering how an operation this size could possibly do battle against an operation like the one he had just visited.
The outer office was just as small as he had imagined it would be-four desks crowded together in a room probably intended for one. Everyone was so busy they didn’t even look up when he entered.
Ben approached the desk closest to the door, where a woman in her mid-thirties was attempting to organize pleadings in an oversized black notebook. He cleared his throat. “I’m looking for a woman named Christina McCall.”
The woman gazed blankly at him.
“She’s about so high”-he held his hand maybe four feet off the ground-“with lots of curly red hair-”
“Ah. She’s in the room in the back. The sucker’s office.”
“The, uh-excuse me?”
Her eyes had already returned to the pleadings. “This is a small office, as you may have noticed. Us four girls are all administrative. We don’t actually have any lawyers on staff. Can’t afford them. Judge Pickens appoints lawyers as necessary. We call ’em the suckers.”
Ben’s chin raised. “And so the room in the back-”
“They usually need a place to review files and prep and whatnot. ’Fraid that’s the best we have to offer.”
“They work in this cubbyhole all through the trial?”
“Trial? I suppose they would.” She leaned toward the woman at the desk closest to her. “Imogene, when was the last time one of the suckers actually took a case to trial?”
Imogene thought for a moment. “Been three years now. Stanley Boxleiter. Convenience store holdup. He got creamed.”
The woman glanced back at Ben. “There you have it.”
Ben frowned. “I get the impression this office doesn’t have a tremendous win-loss record.”
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