Free Expert Witness by Rebecca Forster

bend to Miraleste and came back. Beautiful ride, but I can’t remember anything out of the ordinary.”
    “Anybody veer off and go through the parking lot?” Archer asked.
    “Not that I know of,” Daniel said.
    “How many people in your group?”
    “We have fifty members; perhaps twenty were there yesterday. It was a work day.”
    “Any of them stop in at the Blue Fin Grill?” Archer fired off another question.
    “I wouldn’t know. We’re pretty focused when we ride, but someone could have stopped. I could send an e-mail and ask if anyone did.” Daniel picked at his sleeve.
    “I’d appreciate it,” Archer mumbled, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. Graciousness when it was uncalled for was suspect. “What time were you there?”
    “Early. That’s all I can tell you,” Young said, and Archer knew time was running short. He wasn’t asking the right questions and he was losing the guy.
    Tight-lipped, Archer focused on the middle ground, his eyes resting on the books and papers on the desk, the slim computer, even Young’s well-pressed shirt as he considered the minimal information he had garnered. Archer settled on a different tact.
    “What can you tell me about the trial?” Archer asked.
    Daniel smiled and his eyes brightened. Bingo.
    “As I said, it was a murder trial. The original charges were for two counts in the deaths of Susie Atkins and Janey Wilson. Both were sixteen. Both were held for five days and both were brutally murdered. Susie Atkins might as well not have existed. Her death was dismissed in the preliminary. Janey Wilson was another matter, as I’m sure you can imagine.”   Daniel paused, waiting for Archer’s reaction only to be disappointed when he received a shrug in response. “Janey was Isaiah Wilson’s daughter. The televangelist?”
    Daniel inclined his head to acknowledge Archer’s dawning. When he was satisfied Archer had caught on, he continued his monologue.
    “Of course, back then Isaiah was just a storefront preacher. Janey and Susie had gone to Mexico on their first independent mission. They were helping build a house in some village. Paul Rothskill was the youth minister and chaperon. Their car broke down, and Rothskill hitched a ride to find help. Hernandez found the girls and convinced them to go with him.
    “After the trial, the reverend wrote books, produced tapes based on his experience with forgiveness and his belief that retribution always comes to those who offend God." Young added dryly. "Isaiah masterfully navigated the issue. Read one of his books and you can find justification for both love and hate. I thought he came very close to condoning vigilante justice in the name of God. Very provocative stuff. We followed one another around the media circuit once he found his voice. I was commentating on the trial for CBS, appearing on talk shows, and interviewed for print articles. It was quite a time.”
    “Was that kosher?” Archer asked.
    Young answered. “I was very careful not to cross any ethical boundaries.”
    “But Wilson did?”
    “I didn’t say that. There wasn’t a gag order. Isaiah was dramatic to say the least. He was good for ratings.”
    “Sounds like you think he exploited his daughter’s death,” Archer noted, then added, “or, are you sorry you didn’t?”
    “You really should read Dale Carnegie,” Young laughed easily. “But I’ll play along. Mine was an objective voice, and the public was more entertained by the voice raised in grief. I actually empathize with Isaiah. When something you value and cherish, something that defines you, is taken away so brutally and abruptly, life is never the same. You look for ways to make the pain go away. Perhaps, Isaiah was right. Retribution is necessary to the soul.”
    “But his motives?” Archer pressed.
    “I believe Reverend Wilson’s first book was written out of a real need to come to terms with his grief and outrage. What came after that was the result of a refined