Free Witness for the Defense by Michael C. Eberhardt Page A

forest.”
    “He’s lucky to be alive,” Sarah said. “I’m sure whoever attacked the boy wasn’t planning on letting him live to tell about it.”
    The judge angled his head, musing over what we just told him. “What that boy went through is gut-wrenching, but so far I haven’t heard anything that implicates Jared.”
    “That’s because the real problem,” Sarah said and gave me a look as if to say she knew I had an explanation for what she was about to say, “is the boy purchased a package of candy while he was at Sav-on.”
    “Don’t tell me,” Avery interrupted.
    Sarah nodded as if she knew her father had figured it out. “The cops found a package of the same kind of candy on the front seat of Jared’s car.”
    Avery sat on the sofa, thinking. “That sure doesn’t help.”
    “But Hunter believes he has an explanation.”
    Since she brought it up. “Not an explanation really,” I said and told him how I had looked inside the car when I arrived earlier in the day.
    Avery’s face brightened. He’d been on the bench twice as long as I’d been an attorney. He knew what some cops were capable of.
    “Hunter’s right, Sarah. A good attorney should never accept anything at face value.”
    For an instant Sarah was off balance. “And I don’t,” she said defensively. “But cops planting evidence is almost impossible to prove.”
    I nodded my head in agreement. She was definitely right about that. And knowing McBean, he’d likely done a very good job of covering his tracks.

    “Look at the mess they made,” Sarah said as she tiptoed among piles of loose clothing, magazines, and books strewn across the floor. We were in the guest house that McBean’s posse had ransacked earlier. It was after ten and the only source of light was a red Lava lamp set on a nightstand.
    We’d just finished dinner. Avery had hardly said another word, and Sarah hadn’t said much more. The day’s events had them both rattled. My original plan was that as soon as Sarah and I discussed how much money she would need to represent me, I would be on my way home. But that was before the two beers I guzzled to wash down the fish. Sarah could tell I was tired, and she persuaded me to stay in Jared’s room for the night. I didn’t put up much of a fight.
    Sarah righted an old lamp on the dresser. “This should work.” The bulb flickered several times, and she reached to the side of the dresser to see if the plug was loose.
    “There.” She pushed it securely into the wall. Nothing. She shook the lamp a couple of times and tweaked the bulb with her finger before she gave up.
    “It must be the bulb,” I said and looked to see if there was anything else we could turn on.
    Sarah gestured at a closed door behind me. “Try the bathroom.”
    Picking my way through the mess on the floor, I felt around for the switch and flipped it on. The bathroom wasn’t much bigger than a phone booth. The white porcelain in the sink and bathtub were yellow with age or lack of cleaning; I wasn’t sure which.
    “Open it farther,” she said.
    The old hinges creaked as I pushed on the door until it banged against the toilet. It was open wide enough for the light to illuminate most of the room.
    “I’m sorry, Hunter.” Sarah was standing with her hands on her hips, surveying the damage. McBean’s buddies had tossed the joint, all right. The drawers of the old rickety furniture were open, their spilled contents lying beneath them. Some magazines and books lay haphazardly on the dresser and table tops, but most were scattered about the floor. “Why don’t you just sleep in the extra bedroom inside the main house?”
    “Don’t worry about it,” I said and bent down to pick up a few of the books. I idly thumbed through them when one title caught my eye.
    It was a small pamphlet with the title The Dark Side in bold red print. The pages were brown with age and appeared to deal with the power of black magic. “Looks like Jared was into reading