"I didn't think you had to break in. Don't you have access?"
"Do you want it to be obvious?" Sentz spoke to him as if he were a child, which Loving was beginning to believe was his usual way of speaking to everyone. "There are only a handful of people who have access."
"And did you make sure everyone else was out of the way this time?" The speaker gave the last two words a particular emphasis.
"Absolutely. Only one other oncologist on duty, and he is very busy."
"Good. We can't afford screw-ups."
"Agreed. Eventually someone is going to notice what's missing-probably soon."
"I got a question." This time it was Shaw speaking. "Shouldn't I be wearing some kinda suit?"
"You're good as long as you don't open the pig. And you wouldn't do that, would you?" The doctor's question seemed particularly pointed.
"Of course not. I just want to be sure. I saw that guy."
"It won't happen again."
"Make sure it doesn't. I'm doing this so I can have a life. It would spoil the whole plan if I ended up dead."
"Granted." Sentz glanced at his watch. "I'll go to the vault now. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Good. Hurry."
The pig? What are they smuggling, farm animals?
The doctor disappeared. Shaw lit a cigarette. The other man rubbed his hands together, glancing occasionally at the sky.
Loving wondered how long this would take. Every moment he was out here, he was potentially in danger. He didn't have any doubts about what these guys would do if he were spotted. Shaw was surely carrying his service revolver. Loving didn't care to test his aim.
He wasn't sure whether it would be best to rush them as soon as Sentz emerged with the contraband or to wait and try to follow the truck to its destination. The surest way to find out what was being smuggled would be to rush them as soon as Sentz presented the goods. But there were three of them, and it was dark, and at least one of them was armed, probably all of them. It would be safer to wait, though riskier, because even with the tracer, they might escape. On the other hand, the police would be able to charge them with more if the goods were actually transported, and they would need big charges to threaten these people enough to get them to talk, maybe offer some immunity deals to find out what was going on and how it related to the Dennis Thomas case. Decisions, decisions…
There were too many questions, and it was too hard to know-
A hand gripped Loving around the mouth.
His eyes went wide. Loving tried to shake the hand free, but he couldn't. Whoever was behind him had locked his other arm around his chest. He was strong. Loving's cover was probably already blown, but he still wasn't anxious to attract the attention of the men on the loading dock. Maybe he could still get out of this alive…
Loving kicked back against the retaining wall, knocking his assailant on his butt. His grip on Loving remained strong, even on his back. Loving tried to break away, unsuccessfully. This guy had some serious muscle. Loving pushed again and they went rolling down the grassy hill, locked together like lovers, Jack and Jill, tumbling out of control.
They hit the bottom with a thud. Finally the attacker's grip loosened just enough for Loving to wrest himself free. He swung around, then pushed himself up on his knees and took a swing.
The other man ducked, then lunged under Loving's arms and wrapped his arms around him, tackling him. They both crashed once more to the ground. It knocked the breath out of Loving. He shook himself, trying to get his bearings. The darkness made it almost impossible. He felt a fist clock him on the right side of his jaw.
Enough. He wasn't going to be anyone's punching bag. He jumped up and lunged.
The other man pulled a gun. Loving froze in his tracks.
"Police," the man said breathlessly.
Blast. Probably one of Shaw's buddies. Now Loving would never find out what he needed to know.
He heard the hammer of the gun cock. "You've got ten seconds to tell me what you're doing here."
"I'm not sayin' anythin'."
After a brief pause, the man said, "Loving?"
The dirty cop recognized him. He was a goner now.
"Is Ben here?"
Loving wasn't sure how to answer. He decided to go with the truth. "No."
"Thank heaven for that. For once, he actually showed some sense. Now get down before those jerks on the dock see you."
"You mean," Loving whispered, "you're not with them?"
"With them? I told you, I'm with the police."
"So is Shaw."
"Good point." He took a small pocket flashlight out of his coat and shone it on his face. "Now are we both on the same page?"
It was a face Loving had seen in the office a dozen or more times. Ben's best friend. Homicide detective Mike Morelli.
34
"Ladies and gentleman of the jury, this is not a complex case. The defense has tried to complicate what even they admit is a simple matter, but I think you're smart enough to see through that. You may remember what I asked of you all those days ago when we began this trial. Nothing has changed. All I ask is that you honor the oath you swore when you took on the most important civic duty, that of being a juror. All I ask is that you weigh the evidence fairly and intelligently and that you apply the law."
Guillerman was starting low-key, Ben observed, but he suspected the man would work himself up to a fiery frenzy before he sat down. He would begin with appeals to logic and common sense, but before he was done there would be dramaturgy worthy of a Baptist preacher, filled with tears and invocations of "the thin blue line."
"The crime with which Dennis Thomas has been charged is murder in the first degree. What are the facts that led to this charge? I will tell you. And please remember: these facts are not in dispute."
He raised his hand and began ticking them off, one after another. "He has admitted that he blamed Detective Sentz for the death of his wife. He has admitted that he attacked the man, causing serious injury, and stopped only because other officers were present. He has admitted that he met with a high-profile defense attorney on the day of the murder. He has admitted that he took deliberate steps to discover Detective Sentz's location. He has admitted that he purposefully and intentionally went to the hotel room where he learned Sentz was." Guillerman lowered his chin, looking at them levelly. "And he has admitted that he went there with a gun."
Guillerman moved into the center of the courtroom, taking their attention with him. "This is the honest truth-I've gotten murder convictions on a lot less than that. There's not much doubt about what happened in that hotel room, and I notice that the defense hasn't tried very hard to convince anyone differently. Did we believe for one second that Detective Sentz would harm himself? No. Is there any indication of a third party? No. So why isn't this trial over already?
"There is only one reason. Because they have asserted the defense of temporary insanity. This is called an affirmative defense, meaning that the burden of proof is shifted. They must prove the truth of their defense. As the judge will later instruct you, if they do not, the defense must fail, and you must find the defendant just as responsible for his own actions as you would anyone else."
He took a few more steps backward, bringing himself up beside the defendant's table. "So what actual evidence of temporary insanity do we have?" He gestured toward Dennis. "What proof did you receive that this man was insane? We know he was angry, yes. Obsessed, certainly. We know he had a serious temper and was given to bouts of violence, not only with his wife but with others. He was given medication that might help suppress his violent impulses. But insanity? Where was the proof of that? The entire process of getting the gun, tracking down his intended victim, stalking him at the hotel-none of that sounds like the irrational act of a crazy man. It sounds like the cold, calculating, deliberate act of a man determined to take a life."