“She was just a stupid desperate woman telling a big lie to salvage herself. Hardly like matching wits with a chess grand master.”

“And then,” Christina continued, “just to make it better, you got her entire worthless testimony struck from the record. I’ve never seen that in all the years I’ve been in the courtroom.”

Ben shrugged. “It’s Canelli’s fault. He should never have called that woman to the stand. He’s normally too smart to make such stupid mistakes. My guess is his boss forced this prosecution after the second murder got so much publicity, even though the proof really wasn’t there. His case wasn’t good to begin with, and he’s been hurting ever since.”

“Yeah. And today his case exploded in his face,” Loving said. “Three cheers for Kincaid, King of the Courtroom!”

All three staff members lifted their glasses and hooted and hollered.

“Will you people stop?” Ben said. “I’m just glad Father Beale isn’t here. He might think this means he’s home free. And he isn’t. Not by a long shot.”

“What a party pooper,” Christina said. “Look, Ben, I don’t know if this case is in the bag or not, but I know this. You’ve come a long way since the days when you couldn’t open your briefcase without doing something silly.”

There was a knock on the door, and a well-pierced face poked through the opening. “Excuse me. Mr. Kincaid?”

Ben was pleased to see Marco Ellison, his new star defense witness. He had managed to get the kid’s name added to the witness list (Canelli could hardly object after naming his own last-minute witness). He’d asked the kid to stop by the office tonight to prepare.

“Thanks for coming, Marco.” Ben excused himself from the conference room, then led Marco into his private office.

“Hey, nice place,” Marco said. “You do all the decorating yourself?”

This was sarcasm, of course, because excepting his framed diploma and a potted plant Christina had given him for Christmas, there was no decoration at all.

“I really appreciate your coming forward,” Ben said. “Your testimony could save an innocent man’s life.”

“Hey, I’m looking forward to it.” Marco grinned, revealing the metallic stud piercing his tongue. “My friends still can’t believe I was in a church where some chick got wiped. I’ve been beer guzzling on that story for weeks.”

Ben couldn’t believe this guy could be in the church without overshadowing the bride, but that was neither here nor there. “Your testimony is critical, Marco, because you establish that Father Beale was not in his office at the time of the murder. If you saw him for a good five minutes after the wedding, he can’t be the killer.”

“Hey, I’m happy to help out.” He grinned, jabbed Ben in the ribs. “Want me to make it ten?”

“I’m-sorry?”

“Well, I’m just thinking, if five minutes is good, ten would be better, right?”

Ben’s smile faded. “Well, no, actually it wouldn’t, because ten minutes after the wedding, dozens of people saw him leaving the crime scene. If you make it ten minutes, you’ll get destroyed on cross.”

“Aw well. Just trying to help. Maybe I could say I asked him a question at the reception and we went out to the garden to talk and he was never out of my sight.”

Ben felt as if the tiny candle burning in his heart since this kid turned up had been snuffed out by a tornado. “Marco… your job here is not to make up the best story. Your job is to tell the jury what you saw and heard.”

“Oh, right, right. I getcha.” Marco winked. “I’ll just tell them what I saw and heard.”

“I’m serious, Marco. I can’t-” Ben choked. Just thinking about it was painful. “I can’t put you on the stand if I know you’re going to lie. It’s unethical.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you down. I’m a drama major-did I tell you that?”

“I’m serious, Marco.”

“Hey, I’m hip. I watch Court TV. I know it’s all just a game you lawyers play. They get a witness, you get a witness. I can really help you out here.”

“I have to know the truth, Marco. Tell me what you really saw.”

“I’m thinking I could get some really good coverage out of this trial. You know, the press has been swarming all over that courtroom.”

Ben felt his teeth clenching. “Marco, were you even there? Were you at the church at all?”

Again he gave Ben his broad charismatic grim. “Who’s to say I wasn’t? I mean, was someone taking roll?”

Ben crossed the room and opened the door. “Get out of here, Marco.”

“Hey, chill, man. We can still work something out.”

“No, we can’t. Go.”

“I can help your guy-”

“Maybe. If you don’t get caught lying. On the other hand, if you do, Father Beale will go down in flames. At any rate, I’m not putting you on. If I did, I’d be no better than any other lawyer who puts liars in the witness box.”

“Hey, that’s harsh. Don’t treat me like this.”

“Go.”

“You’ll be sorry, man.”

“Go.”

Marco gave a lopsided shrug, then ambled out of the office.

Ben slumped into his chair. Damn this job anyway. Trial practice was making him manic-depressive. Just a few minutes ago, he was actually staring to feel good about the way the trial was going. And now…

He’d been counting on that kid to keep Father Beale off the stand. True, Canelli was fumbling and Ben had done some real damage to his witnesses. But he also knew the worst was yet to come, and they would have to put on some kind of case if they expected to persuade the jury.

Christina poked her head through the door. “I saw your star witness leave. Everything okay?”

“Definitely not,” Ben grumbled. “Strike his name from the list. With indelible ink.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.”

She walked behind him and began massaging his shoulders. “Don’t worry. You’ll think of something.”

Ben wished he shared her confidence, but he didn’t. But he hoped she was right. Because if she wasn’t, Father Beale would have to go forth and testify, a Christian soldier marching as to war. And Canelli would tear him apart.

Manly Trussell returned to his apartment, his fists covered with blood.

His friend was waiting for him. “Have a good time?”

Manly glanced at his hands, then walked to the sink. “You could say that.”

“I do admire a man who loves his work. Success?”

Manly let the water stream over his hands, watching the thin red streaks swirl around the basin. “I think it’s fair to say there’s one more babykiller who won’t be gabbing much in the near future. Not till his jaw reattaches, anyway.”

“And he didn’t identify you?”

“Nope. Learned my lesson last time. I wore the mask.”

“Good. Very good.” The slowed articulation and slight pursing of the lips suggested what the speaker didn’t wish to say. “So… you just hurt him?”

“Yeah, I hurt him. Bad. Whaddaya mean, just?”

“I wonder if maybe it’s time to… elevate the initiative. Take it to the next level.”

Manly shut off the water and grabbed a towel. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“I think you know.”

“No, I don’t. What?”

“Well… they’re never really going to take you seriously. Not while you’re just wounding them.”

“I think that creep tonight is going to take his wounding very seriously.” Manly slung his towel back against the rack. “Are you saying you want me to kill these people?”

“Death does have a way of driving a point home. As you well know.”

“Yeah, but I-”

“I don’t want to pressure you, Manly. You do what you think is right. Not everyone has the courage to… go the distance.”

“Now, wait just a goddamn minute. I got plenty of courage. But you’re talking about murder.”

“Four thousand aborted babies are murdered in this country every year, Manly. Is that right?”

“That’s different.”

“It isn’t different. It’s the whole point. More murders happen every day. The question is what you’re going to do about it.”