charge of the murder of Chester Lewis Brown, we, the jury find the defendant not guilty. On the charge of the murder of Gladys Brown, we, the jury find the defendant not guilty. . . ."
The gallery erupted in bedlam as the judge dismissed the jury, set Walter Stanley free, and left the bench. Stanley shook my hand and then gave me a big hug. Francis, the gentlemen that he was, came over and congratulated me. He said I was very imaginative and told a good story. I didn't know if that was a compliment or not, but it didn't matter. We'd won. Bart was ecstatic as he'd gotten sweet revenge for his untimely firing. The only disappointment that afternoon was the absence of Stan. I wanted him to see my victory, but he was nowhere to be found. I feared he was in some sort of trouble.
When I got back to the office Maria said my friend, Jane Witherspoon, had called. She wanted to know what was up with Stan. He'd called her to set up a meeting and she wanted to know what it was about. I tried to return the call but she was out. Why would Stan want to meet with Jane Witherspoon? I looked at my watch and saw it was nearly 6:00 p.m. The news would be on soon and perhaps I'd find out. When I saw Gabriel Wenzel on the screen I nearly jumped for joy. What a stunning day for Turner and Waters. Jodie and Maria joined me in front of the TV. We all laughed and cried joyful tears.
"This calls for a celebration," Jodie said.
I nodded. "You're damn right! Why don't you call the Adolphus and see if we can get a banquet room."
While Jodie and Maria made plans for the party I tried to get Stan on his cell phone, but as usual he had it turned off. How in the hell did he get Gabriel Wenzel to come out of hiding? His story was plausible, but something about it didn't feel right. I wondered if it was the truth or just a story. Either way Gabe would be facing his own legal problems now due to his failure to report his daughter's death and allowing his wife to go on trial for murder. Under other circumstances I could see the DA overlooking his improprieties, but since the DA's office had wasted over a hundred thousand dollars of the taxpayer's money, I couldn't see them letting him off the hook.
At 6:45 p.m. I finally reached Stan and congratulated him. I told him about the party and suggested he go get Rebekah and the kids and go straight to the Adolphus. He said he wouldn't miss it for the world. I hung up the phone and left to go home to shower and change. Bart had gone straight home after the trial, so I called him and told him about the party. He said he'd already started partying and that I might have to drive. I laughed and told him not to worry about it. I'd be the designated driver for the evening.
At 7:30 p.m. we arrived at the hotel and were directed to a private banquet room. There were already twenty-five or thirty people drinking cocktails and eating hors d'oeuvres. Bart brought me a glass of white wine and pointed to an incredible spread of hors d'oeuvres—crabmeat and crayfish with tiny green beans, trout, potato salad, seared rolaide of beef—to name just a few of the delicious looking treats. I grabbed a plate and loaded it up.
As I was feeding my face I spotted Charlotte and Gabriel Wenzel talking to Jodie. Their kids were running around having a great time with some other children who'd come with their parents to celebrate. I saw Paul Thayer and his wife getting drinks. There were clients, reporters, and friends of friends all having the time of their life. I noticed Walter Stanley talking to a group of reporters and Maria and her husband at the hors d'oeuvres stand loading their plates. Finally, I spotted Stan and his family entering the banquet room. I rushed over.
"Stan. Rebekah. You made it!"
"Yes," Rebekah said. "Look at this. How did you put this all together so quickly?"
I shrugged. "I can't take the credit. Jodie and Maria arranged it."
"Congratulations!" Stan said. "You finally got to be first chair in a murder trial."
"Yes, but I was a little disappointed you weren't there to watch."
"Yeah. I'm sorry about that, but it couldn't be helped."
"Yes, now I understand. How the hell did you find Gabriel Wenzel?"
"Well, that was a bit of good fortune, I'm afraid. I can't take much credit for it."
I had lots of questions, but this wasn't the time or place to get answers, so I dropped the subject. The party went on for hours and when it came time to go home I was too intoxicated to fulfill my duty as designated driver, so we got a room and stayed the night. Stan and Rebekah did the same thing, but not because they were too drunk to drive. They just wanted some time alone. It had been a great day, and I felt proud and content until the thought occurred to me. Tomorrow I'd have nothing to do!
53
A Sad Farewell
Stan Turner
The next morning I had a hangover that would have made a bloody Irishman proud. My head throbbed and the light sent piercing darts of pain through my brain. After I'd had a cup of coffee and some aspirin, my head began to clear and I remembered there was a camp of refugees at the Double T Ranch in Wylie. I wondered how Martha Thomas was handling them.
After eating a nice breakfast compliments of room service, we got our things together and headed home. By noon I was on my way to the Double T Ranch. It was a forty minute drive, so it gave me time to think about the logistics of hiding a dozen aliens for an extended period of time. Since the Tarizonian shuttle had been destroyed it was no telling how long we'd have to house them.
When I rolled up the driveway I saw Tehra and Martha sitting on the front porch. I wondered what Martha would do if she knew she was talking to an alien. I had told her they were aliens, but not from another planet. She just thought their visas had expired. I got out of my car and strolled up to them.
"Well, it's about time you got here," Tehra remarked.
"Yeah, well we did a little partying last night. I had a bit of a hangover this morning."
"It serves you right partying and not inviting us," Tehra teased.
"Well, it would have been a tad dangerous for you to come, I think."
Looking at Martha I said, "So have your guests given you any trouble?"
"No, not at all. I've enjoyed having them. It's usually so quiet around here. It's nice to have the ranch jumping again."
"Well, when they wear out their welcome be sure and tell me. I don't know how long they'll need to stay."
"Actually, it won't be but a few days," Tehra said.
I frowned. "A few days? How's that?"
"I got a message this morning. Our friends from home are coming to get us."
"You're kidding! How did they find you?"
"I left them my number." Tehra said smiling.
I didn't know what that meant. Apparently she had some sort of communication device that the Loyalists had used to communicate with her. I was ambivalent about her leaving. It was risky having her around, yet she was carrying my child. I had feelings for her, but I couldn't give in to them without endangering my marriage. It was good she was leaving. There was no doubt about that.
Martha asked if I wanted a glass of lemonade. I told her I did and she got up to go get it for me. That gave me the opportunity to talk more freely with Tehra.
"So, a ship is coming for you?"
"Yes, it will be here the day after tomorrow."
"That soon?"
She nodded. "It was a shuttle that was working out of Arizona. There were enough Loyalists aboard that they hijacked it. Now they are flying around the Earth picking up recruits.”
"That's great. Will it go back to Tarizon?"
"Yes, just as soon as it's full."
I just looked at Tehra. I didn't know what to say to her. I looked away.
"It's for the best," she said.
I nodded and then squinted at a shiny object in the distance. It looked like a small Lear Jet and it was flying low. As it got closer it dove straight at us.
"We've got company! I yelled. Take cover."
I grabbed Tehra's arm and we ran across the driveway away from the house with Martha fifty yards behind us. There was a flash of light and a shrill noise before Martha's house exploded knocking u
s off our feet. Two more fighters followed the first and blew up the barn and a storage shed. I looked on in shock not knowing whether to run or stay put. Tehra pointed to a drainage ditch about twenty yards away. We made a mad dash for it as the three fighters swung around and took another run at us.
This time around Martha's truck was blown up and three of the Loyalist’s recruits were incinerated by one of the blasts and lay smoldering on the concrete. Martha came running toward us screaming in horror. She was laden with soot from the billows of smoke pouring from the house. Her arm was bleeding badly. I intercepted her, dragged her into the ravine and forced her to the ground.
"Stay down!" I screamed.
"My arm, it's killing me," she moaned.
I looked around for something to wrap it with.
"I'm so sorry, Martha. I never dreamed they'd find us."
"Who? Who are they? Why are they trying to kill us?"
"They must have followed you here," Tehra said. "That's the only way they could have found us."
"Or maybe when you contacted your friends they were listening."
She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We've got to get out of here."
I tore off one of my sleeves and wrapped Martha's arm to stop the bleeding. She was breathing heavily and I feared she'd pass out on us at any moment.
"We'll be sitting ducks if we try to move," I replied.
"There's some four wheelers behind the barn," Martha screamed. "If we stay along the perimeter of the farm the trees will protect us.”
Tehra looked at me. I nodded. "Let's go."
As the fighters flew by a third