Perfect Justice

6.

BEN ARRIVED IN SILVER Springs bright and early. He planned to spend the day talking to people and finding out what they knew about the murder. It was a small town, after all. If he spoke to enough people, he was bound to find someone who knew something of value—someone who saw Vick’s fight or someone who knew why Vick wouldn’t cooperate.

Ben realized that Vick never said he killed Vuong—only that he wanted to plead guilty. That raised several suspicions in Ben’s brain.

He strolled down Main Street, taking inventory of various possible sources of information. He spotted another local restaurant—one that didn’t serve barbecue. Clyde and Claire’s Café. The card in the window proudly described their limited menu. The aroma of biscuits and gravy floating through the front door was tempting, but Ben decided to pass. Maybe if he got time, he’d come back for chicken fried steak and fried okra at lunch.

A pickup headed the other direction, executed a one-eighty in the middle of the road, swerved around, and parked on the side of the street, just in front of Ben. The pickup was a souped-up, custom-built set of wheels with a rebel flag draped across the rear window.

Two occupants emerged from the pickup, young men no more than seventeen or eighteen. Both were dressed in bib overalls and baseball caps. One cap advertised John Deere tractors, the other Shakespeare fishing gear. They were both lean and muscular—local toughs.

“You the big-city lawyer?” one of them asked.

“I’m Ben Kincaid. Who are you?”

“Name’s Garth Amick. Thought you were the one.” He stepped closer to Ben. “I’d like a few words with you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“I don’t much hold with people coming to our town and stirring up trouble.”

“I don’t blame you. And I assure you I have no intention of stirring up—”

“I’ll admit I wasn’t crazy about it when those Vietnamese set up shop outside town. But since then, I’ve gotten to know some of them, and they’re good, honest people. I’ve made some friends out there. Then these ASP thugs start setting fires and scaring everybody outta their wits. And then one of my friends is killed.” He drew back his shoulders. “Well, anybody who kills one of my friends is going to pay the price.”

“I agree entirely—”

“But instead of facing the music, what happens? ASP brings in an outsider, some hotshot lawyer who’ll probably get Vick off on some technicality so he and his murdering buddies can go on hassling and hurting my friends.”

“Look, I don’t have any intention of—”

Garth thumped Ben on the chest, shoving him back. “We’re tired of outsiders, Mr. Kincaid. Sick and tired.”

Just what he needed. An overprotective teen with too much testosterone. “What’s your point?”

“I want you to leave town. Now.”

“I can’t leave. I’ve been appointed by the court to—”

Garth grabbed Ben’s shirt and twisted it around his fist. “Maybe you didn’t hear me right. I want you to take an extended vacation. For your health.”

“I’m already on vacation, and my health is just fine, thank you.”

In the blink of an eye, the second boy ran behind Ben and grabbed his arms, pinning them behind his back. Garth reared back his fist and delivered it to the pit of Ben’s stomach.

“Oof!” Ben doubled over, wincing in pain.

“How’s your health now, Mr. Kincaid?”