Free Final Exam: A Legal Thriller by Terry Huebner

office.  
    Turning to Nelson, Ben asked, “Now that we’re here, what happened?”  
    Nelson didn’t answer at first.   Instead, he took a key from his pocket and unlocked the door.   He opened it slowly and stepped inside, Ben and Mark following him.   He didn’t feel the need to warn them that what they were about to see would be most unpleasant.   He knew this wasn’t the first murder scene for either man.   Not knowing in advance how Professor Greenfield died, neither Ben nor Mark knew exactly what to expect, yet probably expected the worst.   Nelson stepped to the center of the room and placed his hand on one of the guest chairs.   Ben stepped around Nelson to the left and got his first long look at the carnage in the back corner of Greenfield’s office.   Mark stood next to him also taking in the scene.  
    The eyes of the two men moved quickly from the floor to the side wall, to the back wall, to the ceiling, to the desk and back and forth.   They said nothing.   The head and body of the outline prepared by the medical examiner stuck out from behind the desk.   A large circular bloodstain extended out from beneath the head of the outline and blood splatters covered the credenza, back wall, side wall and file cabinet.   Ben stepped forward to get a better look behind the desk, where he found more unmistakable evidence of blood splattering.  
    After a long moment, he turned to his right and looked at Nelson.   “Bludgeoned?” he asked softly.  
    Nelson nodded.   “A baseball bat, an autographed Sammy Sosa model in fact,” he said finally.   “Left at the scene.”  
    Ben turned his attention back to the area behind the desk.   “He was a huge Cub fan,” he said to no one in particular.   The men surveyed the office for a few more minutes in complete silence.   The scene took on a somber, almost reverential tone.   No one spoke for a time.   Over the years, each of them had been involved on one side or another in society’s evaluation of violent death committed by one human being upon another, and witnessing a scene such as this invariably took something from each of them that they probably couldn’t even put into words.  
    Ben stood for a moment looking out the window at the street below, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his overcoat.   Then he turned on his heel and looked down at the outline of Greenfield’s body lying on the floor.   He studied it for a moment and looked back up at Nelson.   “So,” he said, “I take it that you believe you can tie Megan Rand to this?”  
    Nelson nodded.   “I’m afraid so.”  
    Ben fixed his gaze directly on Detective Nelson, who felt the heat and intensity he had witnessed previously during the two trials the men had been involved with years before when Ben was a prosecutor.   Sensing the moment, Mark stepped in and said, “I think we’ve seen all we need to see for today.   Why don’t we go back outside.”   His words seemed to break the tension, and the two men looked at him and nodded.   Nelson led them from the room.  
    No one said a word until they reached the elevator and were sure they were alone.   Ben looked around.   Seeing no one, he asked, “You have physical evidence?”  
    “Yes.   Physical and otherwise.”  
    Ben looked puzzled.   “What do you mean?”  
    “I can’t say right now, but you should know soon enough, I suppose.   We hope to have some tests done fairly soon.   That should help us with the investigation.”  
    “Do you anticipate anything happening soon?” Ben asked.  
    “Quite possibly.”  
    Ben nodded thoughtfully and the elevator doors opened.   The men stepped inside and the doors closed behind them.   “You’re aware, I’m sure, that Megan Rand has a young son?”  
    “Yes.”  
    “I would prefer, if at all possible, that we not traumatize him needlessly.”  
    “I agree.”  
    “So, if it comes to that, if you feel like you need to do something, and