Perfect Justice

54.

BEN REVIEWED HIS FIFTH draft of the direct examination he’d prepared for Donald Vick. He moved his lips as he read, trying each question on for size. It was the hardest direct he had ever written. Normally he would just take a witness through his story. What could be easier than that? In this case, unfortunately, Vick’s story was like a mine field. It was filled with dangerous subjects Vick refused to mention. Ben had to hone his questions to draw out responses on topics Vick would discuss without making the jury wonder about the topics he hadn’t.

Jones and Mike dropped by, but neither had any new information to report. They hadn’t found a trace of the woman Ben rescued from the burning Truong home, and they hadn’t found any witnesses who were willing to testify on Vick’s behalf. Loving, they said, was at the Bluebell shooting pool, as he had been for the last several nights. They weren’t sure if he was onto something, or if the Bluebell crowd was just his kind of people.

And Christina still adamantly refused to help.

It was almost ten-thirty before Belinda quietly opened the front door and walked to the back desk where Ben was working. She sat in a chair several arm’s lengths away from him. It was a long time before she spoke.

“What are you working on?” she asked.

“A direct examination for my client.”

“You’re going to put him on the stand? Is that wise?”

“Most defense attorneys prefer not to if it can be avoided. But I don’t have any choice. Vick doesn’t have any other witnesses. Even ASP appears to have turned against him. Our only chance is to put him on the stand and hope the jury believes him.”

She nodded. It was obvious she wanted to discuss something other than the case, but couldn’t quite bring herself around to it. “Most of the evidence the prosecution put on is circumstantial.”

“Most? All.” Ben pressed his hand against his forehead. “But there was so much of it. The jury can’t overlook so many links between Vick and the crime.”

“You think the jury is leaning toward a guilty verdict?”

“I’ve seen men convicted on less.”

“Ben—” She paused, then started over. “Ben, I know you take your work seriously, and I admire that. But don’t forget who it is you’re representing. This is Donald Vick, the Vietnamese assassin. The man probably responsible for the car bombing that maimed three people. The man who tried to beat Vuong senseless at the Bluebell Bar. Even if he didn’t commit this crime, he’s probably committed others as bad or worse.”

“If he didn’t commit this crime, he shouldn’t be convicted of it,” Ben said flatly.

Belinda sighed. She fidgeted with her hands, turned them over in her lap. “Ben … this isn’t what I wanted to talk about. I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up. I figured, if that’s the way you want it, fine. If you already got all you want—”

“Belinda! I promise you, it isn’t—” “But I couldn’t let it go. I just couldn’t. Maybe you can bury all your feelings. But I can’t.”

“Belinda—” He gazed across the desk at her. Her eyes were wide and sparkling. “It isn’t that at all. It isn’t anything to do with you. It’s all me. All my problem.”

“Then let’s at least talk about it!”

Ben reached out and took her hand. “We don’t have to. I’m over it. I’ve decided. I’m not going to allow myself to wallow in the past forever. I’m over it.”

“Are you hoping that if you say it often enough it will be true?”

“No. It is true.”

Belinda closed her eyes. “I was afraid I had done something wrong. I was afraid I was too aggressive, or too … I don’t know. Strident. I was afraid I had done something that … changed how you feel about me.”

“I can’t conceive of anything that could make me feel differently about you.”

“Really?”

Outside, the red neon Coors sign in the front window of the Bluebell cast colored shadows across the street and through the undraped office window. The faint echo of Mary-Chapin Carpenter seeped through the doors and flowed down Main. Her voice was like the wind whispering in Ben’s ear. Come on, come on. … it’s getting late now. …

Ben pulled Belinda closer. “I love you,” he said, in the instant before their lips met.

Twenty minutes passed before either of them thought to pull the drapes.