Ben pushed himself to his feet, his brain racing at the speed of light. What could he do with her? Her delicate emotional state made any rough tactics impossible. What could he hope to accomplish? She didn’t testify that Father Beale had committed the murder, not exactly. She had just supplied the motive, the emotional prop for the eyewitness and physical evidence that was already incriminating him.

Father Beale had remained silent throughout her testimony-no quizzical expressions, no outbursts, no scribbled notes. Ben leaned close to him and whispered one question.

“Is she lying?”

It took him a moment to respond, but when he did, what he said was unequivocal. “No.”

“Mr. Kincaid,” Judge Pitcock said. “The witness is yours.”

“No questions,” Ben answered. “Nothing for this witness.”

The judge’s double-take lasted barely a second; he was too seasoned a pro to let his thoughts show. “This is your last chance, Mr. Kincaid. To examine this witness on behalf of your… client.” Even without an accompanying facial expression, the simple way he said the word was enough to tell Ben what Judge Pitcock thought of his client now. The jurist whose decisions were driven by a respect for family values was not likely to be a fan of the wife-swapping priest. There would be no more favors from him.

“No questions, your honor.”

“Very well. Mr. Canelli?”

“That’s all we have, your honor. The prosecution rests.”

Pitcock glanced at his watch. “Very well. I think we’ve had enough for today. We’ll start tomorrow morning at nine with the first witness for the defense.” He gave the jury the usual instructions, then adjourned.

Ben didn’t waste any time. “Everyone leaves by the rear exit. Conference at the office in thirty minutes.”

He looked down at Father Beale, trying not to let what he was thinking and feeling show in his face. “That includes you.”

“I’ll be there,” Beale replied. “I’ll have the marshals take me directly. No dinner stop.”

“Good.” Ben turned toward Christina. “Order in food. We’re going to be working late.”

“Understood.”

“No talking to the press. Not one word. Nothing they can use on the ten o’clock news. Not even a ‘no comment.’ ”

“Got it.”

“Good. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

For once, Ben did not mentally rehash the day’s trial as he left the courtroom. Far from it-he tried to put it out of his mind. He knew what had just happened-far too well. In a few short minutes, everything had changed. The problems he confronted now were not the same ones that had faced him before. The trial he was working now was not the same trial he had been working before. And the man he was defending was not the same person he had been defending a few moments before-and never would be to Ben again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ben demanded.

Father Beale wasn’t making eye contact. “It isn’t the sort of thing that comes up in casual conversation.”

“I told you that you had to tell me everything. Everything that could possibly be relevant to the trial.”

“I didn’t see that it was relevant.”

“You didn’t? The real reason there’s so much antipathy against you in that church, and you didn’t think it mattered?”

“I didn’t think it would come up. I didn’t think anyone would talk. We made a promise to one another, a solemn oath. How was I to know that Carol would-”

“You weren’t supposed to guess what witnesses might do. That’s my job! But I can’t do it if I don’t know everything there is to know about them. I was blindsided in there! Canelli destroyed us, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it because I didn’t know what the hell was going on!”

Ben braced himself against the conference table. He knew this tirade wasn’t going to get them anywhere. But he couldn’t help himself. Part of it was despair-he knew what had happened to their case in the courtroom today. But there was more. Irrational or not, he also felt a sense of… betrayal.

“Let’s all calm down for a moment and figure out what we need to do next,” Christina said. She was the only other person in the room, and given the delicate matters to be discussed, Ben suspected Father Beale would probably prefer she weren’t around. Too damn bad. Ben needed her-now more than ever. “What’s happened has happened. We need a plan.”

Ben threw his hands up. “A plan? As if we had a choice. Here’s our plan. Father Beale has to take the witness stand.”

Beale looked up. “I thought you were opposed to that.”

“I was opposed to it! I’m still opposed to it. Don’t you understand? We don’t have any choice!”

“Ben,” Christina said, “we have other people we could call. Character witnesses and such.”

“And believe me, we will. But that’s not going to cut it. Because at this point, the only thing the jurors are going to care about is the Great St. Benedict’s Wife-Swap-A-Rama. And who are we going to get to testify about that? Dr. Ruth?”

“Actually,” Father Beale said, “wife-swapping is a rather sexist term. We prefer to call ourselves lifestyle couples.”

“Don’t give me your little PC lecture. I don’t care what you call yourselves!”

“Ben…” Christina said.

“Well, I don’t!”

“Ben… you’re acting out. You’re personalizing this. I don’t know why, but-”

“I’m not personalizing. I’m just sorry to see a trial we’ve all worked so hard on fall apart at the seams.”

There. He’d said it. Everyone knew it already, but now he’d said it. It was on the table. Probably not an ABA-approved technique for counseling your client, but at least now they all knew where they stood.

“Fine,” Father Beale said. “I’ll testify. I always wanted to.”

“Well, you get your wish,” Ben said angrily. “And you’d better be good, because frankly-you’re your only hope.”

“I’ll do whatever you tell me.”

“You’re going to have to give the jury some credible explanation for all this lifestyle couple crap. Something that seems rational, if not acceptable. Make it sound as if you really thought you were accomplishing something, as opposed to just being a horny old man trying to get some.”

Beale’s neck stiffened. “I’ll… do my best.”

“You’re never going to get an Oklahoma jury to agree that wife-swapping is a good, healthy thing. But at least you can try to convince them it wasn’t a motive for murder.”

“I understand.”

“And make no mistake-Canelli will be gunning for you. He’s found your weakness. He’ll try to use it to bury you.”

“Understood.”

“Good.” Ben pushed away from the table, walked to the window, and stared out at the horizon.

“So…” Christina said, “… are we ready to proceed? We’re going to have to map out this direct. We have to cover a lot of bases. We want to make sure we don’t leave anything out.”

“Damn straight.”

“We still have a few advantages. Canelli will want to cross on the lifestyle stuff, but if we volunteer it on direct, that’ll undercut him. And so long as we don’t introduce evidence regarding Father Beale’s propensity for honesty or truthfulness, Canelli won’t be able to use past acts to incriminate him.”

“Yes,” Ben said, still gazing out the window. “We’ll map out the perfect direct examination, and we’ll practice it, and we’ll practice it again, and we’ll practice it again, until we all know it so well we could do it in our sleep.” He slowly returned to the table. “But I have one question for you first, Father. One little question. And I’d better like the answer.”

Father Beale sat up straight. “Yes?”

Ben leaned across the table like a vulture. He stared directly into his client’s eyes. “Is there anything else?”

Beale did not need clarification. “No. Nothing else. No more secrets. Nothing I haven’t told you.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. I’m… absolutely positive.”