Jake flicked on the screen. Denise Powers hung from the loft of her house. Green tinged his cheeks. “I don’t know much about military law.”
“You don’t need to. Since both casualties were civilians, the Doc thinks it best to keep to civilian rules.” Lister tucked the warrant into Jake’s pocket and patted it.
“So there could be a jury?” Ignoring the warrant, the defense attorney pulled up another picture. Belinda’s battered face stared back at him. His hand shook as he turned off the screen.
“We’ve drawn up a list of names of people who’d sat on a trial before. Our prosecutor will go through the candidates with you for the actual selection.” Mavis’s hind brain niggled at her consciousness. Something was off here. “I know the trial will be a cruder version of what you’re used to, but it will be legal and binding. Given our current status, there will be no appeals.”
Execution would be carried out as quickly as the judge said the words.
Jake’s lips twitched. He tucked the book under his arm. “Then I guess I should consult with my client right away.”
Lister snapped his fingers and a Marine stepped from the crowd. “Escort counsel to his client.”
“He seems like a competent attorney.” Brother Bob stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. “I think he’ll put on a good defense.”
“Not too good.” David cracked his knuckles.
Mavis watched Jake Turner disappear through the cafeteria door when it hit her. “He didn’t react at all to the news that Trent Powers wasn’t a preacher.”
Not even a blink. It was as if Jake had already known. Her throat tightened. Had she made a mistake? If Trent was acquitted, the military would take their justice and everyone would pay the price.
Chapter Forty-Four
What the fuck was going on? Trent paced the small room. Four steps to the side wall, five to the rusted sink on the back. Three steps to the right and he had to duck under the warped, empty white shelves that lined the other.
He kicked at a blue bucket near the sink. Pain radiated up his shin. Son of a bitch! Hunching over, he grabbed his throbbing toes and hopped to the second. Empty but the roll of toilet paper on the ground spoke volumes. No way would he use that as a toilet.
He was a human being.
A reverend.
Lowering his foot to the ground, Trent slowly added his weight. Muscles jumped at the slight twinge but he refused to lift it. He wasn’t a loser; he could take the pain. And speaking of pain, where was his Bible?
They would never dare treat him like this if he’d had it.
Was it left behind in the other truck? Had someone stolen it? He’d suspect Jake but he would have produced it if he had. The book had power. Trent hobbled to the door and pressed his ear to the faux wood. The pounding of his heart obscured any sounds. Flattening his palm, he inched closer.
Where were his followers?
He’d heard them earlier, asking for him, demanding his release.
The idiots hadn’t stated what he’d allegedly done. He could have used that bit of information. Growling, he shoved away from the door and continued his circuit. This was the bitch Mavis Spanner’s fault.
She was jealous of him, of his power, of the fact that God favored him.
No doubt she’d trump up some charge to get rid of him.
His fingers traced the lip of the stainless steel sink. No matter what her stupid little mind dreamt up, he’d find a way around it. And when he was restored to his rightful place, she’d be in a pine box, suffocating to death while the faithful tossed dirt on her eternal cell.
Keys jingled then the knob rattled.
Trent turned. The metal trough sink cut across his ass. Weapon. He needed a weapon. Frustration clawed up him. They’d left him nothing. His nails raked the wood shelves. The fucking things didn’t budge.
“Thank you.”
Trent sagged. He knew that voice. Jake. Jake’s intelligence was rudimentary, but he was cunning. Especially if he convinced the military to let him in.
“I’ll knock when I’m finished.” Jake Turner slid through the opening, balancing tan bags of Meals-Ready-to-Eat.
The door slammed shut behind him and he skipped forward as if it hit him.
Planting his fists on his hips, Trent glared at the man. “There’s not enough room for me in this dungeon, let alone you too.”
“I brought you something to eat.” Jake dropped two bags when he tossed one over.
Trent batted it away. It bounced off the wall and slid to the floor. “I don’t want fucking food. I want to know why I was humiliated and locked up.”
He rubbed his wrists. Although the handcuffs were gone, he still felt their weight. Someone would pay for that.
“Oh, I know that.” Jake smiled then bent over and picked up the MREs.
“You! They told you!” Spittle flew out of Trent’s mouth but he didn’t care. If they locked him up in these inhumane conditions, they had to expect he would act like an animal. “Why would they tell you?”
“Because I’m your lawyer.”
“My what?” Trent’s fingernails dug into his palms.
“Your lawyer.” Jake lined up the packages on the shelf. “I had a very successful practice before the Redaction.”
Trent snorted. Successful by little men standards. He’d certainly never heard of Jake Turner. It was only because he was so good with names that he remembered him now. “And if I decline your services?”
Jake crossed his arms over his chest. “You might want to hear the charges first.”
Like that would change his mind. Still… “What are the charges?”
“Stealing government property.”
Trent’s mouth fell open. He snapped it closed. “They humiliated me, cuffed me in front of my followers and dragged me in front of everyone for that!”
“Apparently, they want to use you as an example.” Jake shrugged. “There’s been lots of thefts lately, people hoarding MREs and the like, and they want everyone to know you can’t get away with it.”
“Why the hell would anyone steal that shit?”
Jake checked his fingernails. “Apparently not everyone has your… tastes.”
Well, no. Trent was evolved while most everyone else was pond scum. “I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”
A vein throbbed at Jake’s temple. He cleared his throat. “The truck we rode in on is a rather damning piece of evidence against you.”
“Against you.” Trent crossed the room and shoved his face into the other man’s. “You were driving.”
Jake took a deep breath then shook out his arms. “Which is why your sentence is mine as well. While you’re the only one officially being charged, I’ll receive the same sentence.”
Trent eased back. That didn’t make any sense. “You were driving. You’re punishment should be harsher.”
That would be fair. It was hardly his fault. He could claim innocent. How could he know the back was empty? Yes, he fingercombed his hair. That’s the story he’ll tell the jury. They were being attacked. People were dying. He’d tried to help someone but they were shot in his arms. He climbed aboard the cab just as it pulled out.
With a few smiles and fake tears, he could sell it to the jury.
He was damn good at selling shit.
And Jake would take the wrap on his own.
As it should be.
“When is the trial?”
“Tomorrow morning.” Jake retreated to the corner. “But I think we should forgo the jury and let a judge handle it.”
“What! Why?” Juries are easily manipulated. Trent paced in front of his ‘lawyer’.
“While I was getting your dinner, I heard rumors that the other trucks are on the way.” Jake lowered his voice. “They’ll be here in a couple of hours, plenty of time for the military to add charges.”