Poison Fruit

I drove home and spent the remainder of the day half expecting a knock on my door from Homeland Security. Cody was right. I was out of my mind to take part in such a dangerous, illegal scheme. And I shouldn’t have dragged him into it. I’d betrayed his trust.

I just hoped it worked.

The next morning it was business as usual at the courthouse, the bomb squad having combed the ventilation system and found nothing. At least I didn’t have to wait before being called back to the witness stand, since proceedings picked up where they’d left off the previous day.

Pemkowet’s legal defense team was headed up by Cheryl Munz, Lurine’s celebrity lawyer having determined she was the shrewdest of the local lot. “I just have a few questions for you, Miss Johanssen.” She pulled a photograph from a file and showed it to me. “Do you recognize the people in this photograph?”

It was a family portrait of Cooper’s victims. “Yes. That’s Doug and Lois Blumenthal, and their daughter Emily. I didn’t know their names until the trial, though,” I added.

“That’s all right.” Cheryl Munz gave me a smile that was meant to be encouraging, but came off as exhausted. This trial had to have been a nightmare for her. “When did you first encounter the Blumenthals?”

“At the Halloween parade,” I said.

“Where they were victims of a ravenous ghoul,” she said. “Is that correct?”

“Ravening,” I said, wondering exactly how this line of questioning was supposed to help the defense’s case. “And they prefer the term Outcast. But yes.”

“And why were there ghouls—excuse me, Outcast—present at the parade?” Cheryl inquired.

“Objection, Your Honor,” Daniel Dufreyne said without looking up from his notes. “I fail to see the relevance.”

“Overruled,” Judge Martingale said.

Dufreyne’s head snapped up and he put on the reverb, his voice deepening. “I said I object, Your Honor.”

Light flashed off the judge’s glasses as he gave the prosecuting hell-spawn attorney a stern look. “And I said overruled, Mr. Dufreyne.” He gestured at me. “The witness may answer the question.”

I suppressed a gleeful smile. It looked like the charm was working. “The Outcast were there to provide crowd control.”

“Crowd control?” Cheryl echoed.

I nodded. “To prevent widespread panic in the event of a supernatural manifestation, yes.”

“And did they achieve that goal?” she asked me.

“Yes.”

“Objection!” Dufreyne said curtly. “The witness is being asked to speculate on an outcome that can’t possibly be known.”

The judge hesitated, then nodded. “Sustained.”

“Withdrawn,” Cheryl said. “Miss Johanssen, please clarify something for the court. Who authorized the presence of the, um, Outcast at the parade?”

Okay, I saw where this was going now. Cheryl Munz was attempting to throw me under the bus. Under the circumstances, that was just fine with me. I might have cause to regret it later, but right now, I’d gladly take a dive under those wheels. “I did.”

“And did you consult with anyone regarding this decision?” she asked. “The chief of police, the director of the visitors bureau?”

“No,” I said.

“Did you consult with any members of the township board or either of the city councils?” Cheryl asked.

“No.”

“So you made the decision to have ghouls—excuse me, Outcast—present entirely on your own?” she pressed me.

“Objection!” Dufreyne thundered, his voice making the rafters tremble. “Leading the witness!”

Judge Martingale scowled at him. “Overruled!”

“Yes,” I said. “I did.”

Cheryl Munz looked slightly delirious at the prospect of actually being allowed to continue this line of questioning. “And again, just to be perfectly clear, that includes the, um, member of the Outcast who attacked the Blumenthals?”

“Yes,” I said. “Absolutely. All of the Outcast, including Cooper, were there at my request.”

She conferred briefly with her colleagues, then asked to revisit the video footage of the parade, fast-forwarding to a sequence of Stefan and his broadsword battling the Tall Man. “In fact, as we see in this footage, it was one of those very Outcast who engaged the, um, revenant, and prevented it from harming spectators, wasn’t it?”

Oh, that was a good angle. The jury murmured with interest.

“Yes,” I said. “It was.” I made deliberate eye contact with each member of the jury. “I’m very sorry for the unpleasantness that the Blumenthals endured, but if it wasn’t for the presence of the Outcast that night, in particular the man you see defending innocent bystanders there, there would have been near-certain fatalities.” I expected Dufreyne to object or the judge to rebuke me, but neither did. Emboldened, I continued. “I take full responsibility for that decision.”

“Thank you, Miss Johanssen.” It sounded like Cheryl Munz was ready to cry with relief. This had probably been the first break the defense team had gotten during the entire trial to date. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Dufreyne?” Judge Martingale inquired.

Narrowing his eyes, Dufreyne fixed me with a long, speculative look. He knew something had happened to nullify his powers of persuasion, but he didn’t know what or how. Taking a page from his book, I returned his gaze as blandly as possible. “I have no additional questions, Your Honor.”