After court adjourned for the day, Ben and Christina began packing up the files that needed to go back to the office. As grueling as a day of trial was, the work did not end when the judge slammed his gavel. Ben knew he’d be up past midnight, reviewing outlines and preparing for the next day’s witnesses.

So who could deny him a moment’s respite? He knew Charlie at the courthouse snack bar always held back a carton of chocolate milk when Ben was in trial. Maybe after a couple of shots of sugar-enriched calcium he’d be energized enough to-

“Excuse me. You the lawyer?”

Ben stopped. “I’m the lawyer representing Father Beale.”

“My name’s Marco Ellison. And I saw something I think can help your guy.”

He was a young man, maybe twenty or so. He had short, spiky peroxided hair and had rings piercing his ears, nose, lower lip, and tongue. In other words, the ideal witness.

“How did you come by this knowledge?”

“I was at the wedding.”

Ben wondered how he could possibly have missed this guy. Maybe he hadn’t been pierced yet. “Okay. And what do you know?”

“Well, for starters, I know your guy didn’t do it.”

Ben edged closer, his eyes widening. He wrapped his hand around the young man’s leather-coated arm. “And how do you know this?”

“ ’Cause I saw him after the wedding ended. I’m not really into all that ‘death us do part’ crapola, so I went outside to the prayer garden for a smoke. And I saw Father Beale come into the garden a few minutes later. He sat for a while. Even got down on his knees and prayed.”

“But he didn’t go to his office?”

“No way. Not at first, anyway. He was in the garden.”

Ben squeezed his arm all the tighter. Could it be-an eyewitness who could place Father Beale somewhere else at the time the prosecution had established as the time of the murder? It was almost too good to be believed. “Why haven’t you told this to the police?”

“I did.”

Ben’s eyes opened all the wider. “You did?”

“Yup. They didn’t seem interested in anything that was going to help the priest. They didn’t even write down my name.”

Ben swore silently. “Would you be willing to testify? In court?”

“Of course. That’s why I came up here.”

“That’s great.” Ben wanted to hug the kid, but he’d probably take it the wrong way. “Give me your address and phone number. I’ll add you to the witness list and call you when it’s time for us to put on our case.”

“Sure. No problem.” The kid gave him the information.

“This is a great thing you’re doing, Marco. A great thing. This could turn the whole trial around.” He paused. “I don’t want to push my luck, but-any chance you could lose the jewelry before you go up on the witness stand?”

“Why? Don’t you want me to look my best?”

“Yeah, to my jurors, whose average age is fifty-five. But never mind. I just want you to be there.” He took Marco’s shoulder again. “This could be the most important thing you do in your entire life.”

That evening, back at the office, Ben gave his client a recap.

“So the kid says he can positively state that you were not in your office at the time of the murder.”

“Well, I wasn’t.”

“I know that. But we didn’t have a witness to say it. Until now.”

“I can say it,” Father Beale said, stroking his beard. “I can speak for myself.”

“Father, I’ve told you this before. I don’t like putting defendants on the stand. It’s too risky. Especially in a capital case.”

“But I would prefer to do it, just the same. I want people to hear about my innocence from my own lips.”

“You don’t know what it’s like up there, Father. Having the DA pound away at you, accusing you of horrible things, twisting your words around, trying to trip you up.”

“I’m an adult, Ben. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. You’re probably better spoken and more intelligent than most of the people I’ve represented. But there are still risks.”

“Ben-”

“Father Beale, you agreed that I was in charge of this trial, remember?”

“Yes, and I won’t renege on that agreement. But at least think about it, okay?”

“I’ll think about it.” But with a new witness who could put Father Beale in the prayer garden at the time of the murder, Ben knew there was simply no reason to take that risk.

He said good night to Father Beale and watched as the marshals took him back to his cell at the county jail. It was a horrible thing, seeing a man who had done so much for people, who had done so much for Ben, being treated in this manner. It must be an almost unbearable nightmare for him, Ben mused. At his age, his position in life. There had to be some way Ben could put an end to it, once and for all. Some way he could help Father Beale.

Just as the man had helped him, all those years ago.

Although he did not join the acolyte class, the twelve-year-old nihilistic Ben did spend more time at the church after his counseling session with Father Beale. Following the priest’s advice, he had managed to integrate himself into the core group of kids his age. Deep down, he might know that Curran and Conner and Landon and the others would never have included him in their set if they hadn’t all gone to the same church, but as long as he appeared to be one of the gang, what did it matter? Right?

One Sunday after services, Ben and the others were hanging outside the robing room. For some reason, the male acolytes had changed first; now they waited while the only girl in the class, Valerie Beth McKechnie, wiggled out of her heavy black-and-white Anglican robes. Ben was admiring the new stained-glass window, Father Beale’s pride and joy, which he had fund-raised eight years to purchase. The translucent red and blue of the rainbow, the art deco design of the ascending dove…

“So, Kincaid. You gonna touch her titties or not?”

Once again, Ben was glad he’d gotten in with a group of kids who were clearly on a higher spiritual plane. “Shut up, Conner. We’re in church.”

“And so is she, Ben. That’s the point.”

“I’m not going to do anything like that, Conner. Forget it.”

Landon came around on his other side. “C’mon, Ben, you gotta do it. If you wanna be in the club. Everyone else has done it.”

“They have?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, not with Valerie Beth McKechnie. But someone.”

“Yeah, you probably did it with your sister.”

“I don’t have a sister, Kincaid, and it’s a good thing I don’t, or I’d be really pissed off right now.”

“Cool down, Landon,” Curran said. All three of them were surrounding Ben. “Don’t pressure him so much. He just needs some time.”

“She’ll only be in there another minute or two,” Landon said.

“Good point.” Curran took Ben by the shoulders and adjusted his lapel. “So, what do you say, Benny-boy?”

“I say, don’t call me Benny-boy.”

“I mean about Valerie Beth McKechnie.”

“I say, no.”

“Aw, c’mon, Kincaid,” Conner whined. “You wanna be a virgin all your life?”

Thanks to the book Father Beale had given him, Ben was slightly better able to deal with this question than he would’ve been a few weeks ago. “Feeling someone up in the robing room is not going to make me not a virgin.”

Conner’s reaction made Ben wonder if he knew as much as he acted like he knew. “Well… it’s a step in the right direction.”

“It’s a step I won’t be taking. So clear off. My parents are somewhere around here, and if they knew-”

“She wants you to do it.”

Ben slowed. He squinted at Landon’s grinning face. “What do you mean?”

“Just that. She wants you to do it.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell. She likes you, man.”

“Get stuffed.”

“No, it’s true, she does,” Conner said, backing his friend up. “Have you seen the way she looks at you during church? The way she gazes at you during the reading of the gospel?”