“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.
Chapter 15
The 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?”