Drabble shook his head. “No. And the prosecution rests.”

Christina made the usual motion for a directed verdict, which the judge denied without even thinking about it. The prosecution had more than made its case, and everyone in the room knew it. The judge dismissed the jury for the day, instructed the defense to be ready to begin tomorrow morning, and adjourned the court.

Pandemonium ensued. Reporters pressed against the rail, trying to get quotes from Ben and Christina, from Drabble, from Johnny. Christina declined their kind offers to preview her defense to them and started packing.

Ben felt a tugging at his wrist. Johnny.

“This isn’t goin’ so hot, is it?”

Ben wasn’t sure how honest to be. “Things rarely look good for the defense after the prosecution rests. If they don’t have a solid case, they don’t go to trial. But now we get our chance.”

“But we don’t have anything. Do we?”

“We have you.”

Lines formed around Johnny’s eyes. “Do you think they’ll believe me?”

After one look into those eyes, there was no way Ben was going to tell him what he really thought. “I hope so.” He nodded toward Christina. “Team meeting?”

“Definitely.”

The marshals took charge of their prisoner, and Ben and Christina bundled all their materials together and charted a course for the rear of the courtroom.

What Ben had told Johnny was absolutely true-things never looked good for the defendant at the conclusion of the prosecution’s case. But at the same time they rarely looked this grim. Usually he had some ace up his sleeve, some trick or theory or angle. But this time Drabble had seen him coming. He’d deflected their intended feint like a master swordsman, literally destroying their defense before they’d had a chance to put it on. If the jury thought Christina had called into question the coroner’s estimated time of death, Johnny’s disappearance at 11:10 might not be so incriminating. But if they didn’t…

They had to come up with something new-something different. But what could it be? What could possibly make the jury forget what they had heard, forget the horrible punishment Johnny had visited on another human being-and then laughed about? This case had more aggravating circumstances than all of Ben’s previous cases combined. If Johnny was convicted, any plea for mercy in sentencing would be laughable. The death penalty was a dead cert.

Part Three. What Is False Within

40

“Let me carry that catalog case, Mr. Kincaid.”

“I’m fine. Call me Ben.”

“Can I get you something to drink, Mr. Kincaid?”

“Not right now. Ben.”

“Do you need any supplies? Legal pads, Post-it notes?”

“No, thanks.”

“Anything at all? Fresh coffee? Sharpen your pencils?”

Fetch your slippers? Ben took Vicki firmly by the shoulders. “Vicki, I admire your zeal. I know you’re trying to do a good job. But seriously-relax. We hired you to be a legal intern. Not a gofer.”

She flushed, then looked away shyly. “I just know how much stress you and Christina are under. I want to help in any way I can.”

“You are helping. And doing a great job. So don’t worry about it. We’ll get this meeting started, then maybe-”

“Chocolate milk!” the young woman said, snapping her fingers. “Christina told me how crazy you are for it. I’ll get some out of the fridge.”

And she was gone before he could say another word.

Ben took a seat beside Christina at the office conference table. “Have I mentioned how much I like your new intern?”

“At least she talks to you. She gets so bashful around me she can barely finish a sentence. I think she must be a little sweet on you, hard as that is to imagine. You really like her?”

He nodded. “I’ve always gone for those quiet, subservient types.”

“Well, that explains-” She thought better of it. “Jones? Loving?”

“Present or accounted for,” Loving replied.

Vicki returned with the chocolate milk. “I hope it’s okay cold. I didn’t know whether I should warm it.

Ben grimaced. Warm it? “This will be fine.”

“All right,” Christina said, addressing the troops, “I don’t suppose I need to tell anyone that this trial is going against us in a big way. We have to face facts: Drabble saw us coming and headed us off at the pass. Those last two witnesses were disasters.”

“Those last two witnesses just told the truth,” Jones grumbled.

“I don’t know that. And for our purposes, it’s beside the point. Johnny is in trouble.”

“Because he’s a murderous, hatemongering creep.”

“Jones! That’s our client you’re talking about!”

“Don’t I know it! I’ve had to clean up the mess outside the offices twice now, thanks to him. And he’s not even paying his bills!”

“Whether you like it or not, we took the case. And we’re losing.”

“Maybe we should be losing.”

Christina pointed a finger. “What’s wrong with you, Jones? As I recall, you were all for this case when Ellen Christensen first came into the office.”

“Did you hear what he did?” Jones replied. “Did you hear what that kid from the frat house was saying? How our client just… destroyed poor Tony Barovick? And laughed about it?”

“We can’t sit in judgment of our clients,” Ben interjected. “No one is guilty until a verdict is rendered. And for that matter-I talked to Mike earlier today. He asked if I’d send him a copy of Tony Barovick’s journal. He thinks maybe Tony wasn’t quite the sainted martyr the media has painted him.”

Jones slapped the table. “Don’t tell me we’re going after the victim! That’s got to be the all-time sleaziest tactic.”

“Not if it’s the truth.”

“The truth! What are we going to say-that he deserved to have his legs shattered with a hammer?”

“As you know, Mike has been investigating the murder of two low-level criminals. Mike believes they were involved in some kind of drug-pushing deal that operated out of Remote Control. And he thinks Tony Barovick may have been in on it.”

“That’s total bullshit.”

Ben disagreed. “It makes sense. Tony was the manager, after all. He was in every night. How long could something like that go on without him knowing about it?”

“It’s a crock.” Jones swung around in his chair. “I don’t buy it, and the jury won’t, either.”

“I have similar concerns myself,” Christina said. “If we start talking about drug-running at this stage of the game, the jury will think we’re just conjuring up bogeymen to create reasonable doubt.”

“Which would be more or less the case,” Ben answered. “Except Mike says there’s really something to it.”

“But how do we prove it? Does Mike have any evidence? Any witnesses?”

“Not so far. Nothing that would hold up in court.”

“It would take a lot to make the jury forget what Johnny has admitted he did. And failing some concrete proof of a third party, he’s always going to seem like the most likely suspect.” She pushed away from the table. “No, I have to agree with Jones on this one, even if he is a temperamental, irrational hothead.”

“Hey!”

“Until we have a bona fide witness who can take the stand and explain what was going down, this drug-pushing theory is a loser for us.”

“Christina,” Ben said, “think about-”

“And since this is my case,” she continued, “my decision is final.”

Ben dropped his chin.

“Jones,” she continued, “I’ve been reading your reports. You’ve done some great work digging around the nooks and crannies of this case. But I haven’t seen anything that gives us a defense.”

“Guess why?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Because there is no defense. Everybody knows he did what he did.”

“Admittedly, distinguishing between a torturous bone-breaking beating and a murder is a tricky argument. But it’s the one we’re stuck with. Loving?”