That was the problem, of course. As strong as his feelings for Belinda were, they only served to remind him of what had gone before. The specters of the past.
And suddenly he was back in Toronto again, and the snow was on the ground and he was bundled to the hilt and he was with—
Ellen. And he was in love.
The images flashed through his head like a montage from an old black-and-white movie. Queen’s College, the church, the exchange student from Scotland, the snowball fight in the quad. And the futon in the attic and the ring and Ellen’s radiant brown hair.
He closed his eyes, trying to stop the flow of images, but they just kept coming. Finals, big plans, the Harbourfront carnival. And then he was at the subway station, and there were tears and shouts and blood was everywhere and—
Ben pressed his hand against his face. Tragedy beyond imagining. And worst of all, he had not kept his promise. He had failed her.
He stood up and kicked the desk. It was years ago, he told himself. Grow up already! Get over it!
He’d been telling himself that for a long, long time, though, and it hadn’t worked yet.
But it would. He pounded the desk, clearing the clutter from his brain. He closed his eyes again and mentally erased all the horrible images, all the wasted moments, all the inescapable consequences from his brain.
He didn’t have time for this. He had to get on with this trial.
And he had to get on with his life.
49.
COLONEL NGUYEN FOUND HIS way home by starlight, following the path illuminated by the twinkling sentinels of the night. In the old days, he recalled, he used to look to them for guidance, for a sense of permanence, for answers. Now they were just white lights in the sky. Silent. Unresponsive. Nothing more.
Lan sat on the front porch Nguyen had only recently reconstructed. Her feet were propped against the railing; her eyes gazed up toward the heavens.
She was as beautiful as the Vietnamese flower for which she was named. Her smooth, tranquil face warmed his heart. It was almost as if there were no danger at all, as if that same porch had not been riddled with gunfire only a few days before.
He sneaked behind her and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “The children?”
“In bed.” She took his arm and pulled it close around her.
“Was it difficult?”
“It is worse every night. They are afraid monsters will come in the night. And what can I tell them?” She shook her head sadly. “The monsters do come in the night.”
“How did you get them to sleep?”
“I told them their father would protect them, of course. As he has always done. As he always will do.”
“Perhaps the monsters will not come tonight,” Nguyen said as he sat beside her in the same chair. “Perhaps tonight will be calm.”
“Why do you say that? What have you been doing?”
He paused a moment, then decided it would be better to tell her than to let her imagine something worse. “I strung a trip wire across the entrance to Coi Than Tien.”
“Do you think that will stop them?”
It would be so much easier to lie to her. But he found he could not do it. “No. But at least now, if the black pickup returns, we will hear it coming.”
“Perhaps the conflict is over. Perhaps they will let it die.”
“No,” Nguyen said. “I have overheard Dan Pham and his associates. I do not know exactly what they plan, or when they plan to do it. But I know they contemplate another assault on ASP.”
“Perhaps this trial will quiet their fever.”
“How so?”
“Perhaps the trial will make Dan realize we are not alone, not so desperate as he thinks. Perhaps the trial will make the men of ASP realize they cannot commit these atrocities without paying a price.” She paused, then slowly brought her vivid brown eyes to meet his. “If Vick is convicted.”
Colonel Nguyen looked away. “You think he will be convicted?”
Lan’s face became resolute. “I pray to God that he will be.”
Nguyen gazed out into space, into the immutable tranquillity of the stars. How he wished to be among them, to be soaring through the void, to be anywhere but where he was. “It would be wrong to convict an innocent man.”
“I know nothing of this,” Lan said. “But I know what is best for my children. And my friends. And my husband.”
She could not have stated it any plainer. There was nothing else for them to say, then. Nothing else at all.
“You will go to watch the trial again tomorrow, my husband?”
He took her hands. “I feel I must.”
“Do you not have duties at the farm?”
“The farm will survive without me for a few days.”
She nodded slightly, then removed her hands from his. “I will await your return in the evening. We all will.”
Without even thinking, Nguyen took his wife into his arms and placed his head upon her chest. She was so warm, so good. He would be nothing without her.
“I only wish … to do what is right,” he said, after a long time.
“You will,” Lan replied. “You always do.”
“I am not so sure.”
“You are a fine man. Your heart is good.”
“Even a good man can grow … old. Tired.”
“Is this the hero of the 112th National Brigade? Is this the man who saved Maria Truong so recently?”
“Still, I worry. … I am not sure I can trust myself.”
“Trust me, then. I know you will do what is best. Best for me. And your children. Best for us all.”
Colonel Nguyen stared up into the blackness, unanswering. A cold wind blasted his face, stinging his eyes. If only he could be certain. If only he could know. If only—
He hugged his wife close to him, and braced himself against the long cold night.
50.
THE CROWD IN THE courtroom the next morning had not diminished in the least. Apparently the first two days had only whetted their appetites. Most of the faces Ben identified the day before had returned for Day Three.
Vick was escorted into the courtroom by four deputies. Ben wondered if a particular event had inspired the sheriff to beef up security, or if the lawmen were just having a slow day. Fortunately none of the escorts was his good friend Deputy Gustafson.
As Vick walked down the main aisle, Ben heard a crash. A window shattered into tiny pieces that crumbled to the floor. A few seconds later a large rock sailed through the new opening. The crowd shrieked and ducked.
Whoever threw it had a strong arm and good aim; it just barely missed Vick’s head.
Ben ran to the window and saw two figures in bib overalls racing around the corner. Given the distance and the fact that he only saw them from the back, it was impossible for him to be certain who they were. But one of them bore a sharp resemblance to Garth Amick.
The bailiff swept the debris away and the crowd gradually quieted. But whatever false sense of security the courtroom may once have conveyed was shattered along with the window.
A few minutes later Judge Tyler reentered the courtroom and the trial resumed. Swain called Sheriff Collier to the stand.
After Collier was sworn, Swain identified him as the local sheriff and laid the proper foundations for his testimony.
“When did you first learn of Tommy Vuong’s death?”
“Almost immediately after it happened. We got lucky that night,” Collier said, although his manner suggested that more than mere luck was involved. “Two of my deputies were patrolling out that way and spotted the smoke rising from that burning cross. They drove in and investigated.” Collier described the crime scene for the jury. “Soon as my men saw the body, they got on the radio and called me.”
“What did you instruct them to do?”