And then came the moment Ben had been dreading.
“The State calls Ben Kincaid.”
Swain probably took Ben through all the proper preliminaries. He really didn’t recall. His brain was working too fast; it was too far ahead of the present.
“Would you say the defendant volunteered her confession to you?”
“Well, no,” Ben said. “I couldn’t actually say she volunteered.”
“When she finally told you what she had done, would you say she was filled with remorse? Regretted what she had done?”
“No,” Ben said sadly. “I couldn’t agree with that either.”
“She admitted that she planned to kill Tommy Vuong?”
“Yes, she did.” Again he tried to make eye contact with Belinda, but she wouldn’t look at him. Her head was buried inside her arms.
“She stole the crossbow to implicate ASP, the organization that formerly had a camp just outside of town.”
“True.”
“And she smeared Donald Vick’s blood and hair on the bow to incriminate him.”
“So she said.”
“Then she hid in the trees outside Coi Than Tien and waited for Tommy Vuong to come home.”
“Yes.”
“And when she saw Vuong approach, she killed him.”
“Not exactly,” Ben said.
“What?”
Ben saw Belinda’s head rise. “That’s incorrect.”
Swain was obviously surprised. “Why is that incorrect?”
“It’s true Belinda was planning to kill Vuong, but when the time came and he was standing right in front of her, she found she couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t fire the bow.”
Belinda lifted her head and peered across at the witness stand.
“You’re saying she changed her mind?”
“Yes. Unfortunately Vuong saw her and decided to take advantage of the situation. He was a nasty brutal person, as I guess you know. He began shouting threats, saying that he was going to do worse to her than he had done to her sister. He started toward her.” Ben turned to face Judge Tyler. “She panicked. And that’s when she fired the bow.”
Swain stared at his witness. “What are you saying—that she killed him accidentally? That she acted in self-defense?” Swain appeared incredulous. “She’d planned his murder in detail! Surely you’re not suggesting she could fire that bow twice by accident! Or that two shots from a crossbow was a reasonable defensive use of force!”
“No,” Ben said.
“Are you saying she went crazy? Trying to get her off on an insanity plea?”
“No. She’s definitely not insane.”
“Then I don’t understand what you’re—”
“She didn’t have premeditated intent,” Ben said firmly. “Not at the time she fired. She had recanted her previous plan. When she fired the crossbow, it was on impulse. In the heat of the moment.”
Judge Tyler peered down at Swain. “You’ve charged the defendant with first-degree murder, Mister Prosecutor.”
“That’s true,” Swain said.
“That’s an intent crime. Maybe you should try for manslaughter.”
“Your honor, this is just the opinion of one witness—”
“He’s your witness, Mr. Swain.”
“He’s obviously biased—”
“You took that risk when you subpoenaed him.”
“Yes, but—”
“If you expect me to bind the defendant over for trial, you’d better have her charged with the right crime.”
“Your honor, I—”
“I want all counsel in my chambers,” Judge Tyler pronounced. “Now. Mr. Kincaid, you’re excused.”
“Thank you, your honor.”
As Ben left the witness stand, for the first time, Belinda looked directly at him. Their eyes met.
And her expression changed—for the most fleeting of instants—to something that resembled a smile.
70.
BEN SAT BY HIMSELF on the bank of the lake near his former campsite. The morning was still gray; the first rays of the sun were just beginning to peek out over the mountaintops.
He stared into the water and tried to clear his head of all the noise, all the confusion, all the regret.
All the sadness.
He heard a car chugging up the dirt road just outside the campground. A few minutes later Christina strolled up and sat beside him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She shrugged nonchalantly. “Thought you might like some company.”
“You were wrong.” He turned away and stared across the lake. “But since you’re here, how are you feeling?”
“Fine. Fit as a fiddle. Totally recovered.” She cocked her head to one side. “How are you?”
He considered the possible answers. Fine? Fit as a fiddle? Somehow they didn’t ring true. And he wondered if he would ever be totally recovered.
“Mind if I play some music?”
Ben saw her removing her harmonica from its velvet case. “Must you?”
“I’m in the mood.” She began to play.
Ben did his best to ignore it. But the melody caught his ear. It seemed very familiar. When the shark bites …
It was difficult not to grin. “Did you learn that just for me?”
“Nah. ‘Mack the Knife’ has always been in my repertoire.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Hey, you’re smiling.”
“Sorry. I won’t do it again.”
“Okay. Me neither.” Her expression became preposterously grim. “Is this better?”
“Look,” Ben said, “I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but it’s no use, okay?”
“Oh, well then. I won’t waste my time trying.”
“Good.”
“I’ll just sit here silently and not say a word.” She made the motion of zipping up her lips.
“Much appreciated.”
She remained quiet for about half a second.
“I just have one question,” she said. “Your testimony about Belinda’s hesitation, her change of heart. Was that true, or did you make it up to prevent her from getting the death penalty?”
“Christina, perjury is a criminal offense.”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“Good. I won’t.”
Christina sighed. She pointed toward the horizon. “Look! It’s the sunrise.”
“Big deal.”
“Au contraire, c’est…” The orange rays crept across the mountains and reflected off the clear blue water. “C’est magnifique!”
“Not interested,” Ben said. “I’ve seen it before.”
She took his hand and squeezed it tightly. “You have to see it like you’re seeing it for the first time.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A BOOK LIKE THIS would not be possible without the expertise of others. I want to thank Kathy Humphries and Gail Benedict for their assistance with the manuscript and other clerical chores. Thanks also to Arlene Joplin for her criminal law expertise, and to Drew Graham for his editorial guidance. Thanks are due to Dr. Paul Tucker, longtime Arkansas resident, for his aid in making the town of Silver Springs come alive. Thanks also to Vien Van “Bob” and Cam-Huong Thi “Tina” Nguyen for their help in understanding the new Vietnamese immigrants and creating a Coi Than Tien that reflected reality. Belated and continuing thanks to Pat Cremin, whose unique insights into human nature are a character creator’s dream, and to Kevin Hayes, for friendship and more favors than I could possibly list. Finally, my thanks and deepest admiration go to Morris Dees, for the inspiration found in his books and his life. Incidentally, every act taken, every word written, and every epithet spoken by ASP in this book is based on well-documented actions and statements by an American hate group—during the last fifteen years.