Primal Fear by William Diehl

until it’s done.”
    “God
damn
you! Did it occur to anyone to talk to me about this? It’s my career you’re screwing around with.”
    “You’re mine until the jury brings in the guilty verdict, my dear. May as well get used to it.”
    “You did this to get even with me for leaving.”
    “Look, it’s open and shut—we just can’t afford to take any chances. We cannot screw this one up in any way, shape or form.” He paused for a minute, then added, “And I did it, as you tenderly put it, because you’re the best prosecutor I’ve got … and I wanna be damn sure we gift wrap this little son of a bitch up and strap him in the hot spot, understand? Hell, you ought to be flattered I picked you for the job.”
    “Flattered hell, you don’t have anybody else. Thanks forever, Jack. All I know about Archbishop Rushman is the two minutes I saw on Channel Four this morning.”
    “We’ve got the suspect cold. But you know how the public can be. They want blood. An eye for an eye, so to speak.” He chuckled at the cruel joke, although Venable was not yet aware that the archbishop’s eyes had been plucked out during the attack.
    “Ah hell,” said Venable, “he’ll probably plead guilty anyway.”
    “Won’t happen. The public wants this guy charbroiled. We won’t buy a plea. He burns no matter what.”
    “If his lawyer decides to plead him there’s nothing we can do about it.”
    “Sure there is. Our stand is, he goes to the chair, period. If his lawyer pleads him guilty, we still want the max. Unless his counsel’s a devout idiot, he’ll go to the wall with us. He’s got nothing to lose.”
    “Does he have a lawyer yet?”
    “I don’t know. Shoat’s appointing one.”
    “Is Shoat hearing the case?”
    “Probably. There’s going to be a lot of ink in this so he’ll probably run with it. Look, everybody wants it to be over as soon as possible. The hearing’s tomorrow, I’d say we go to trial in sixty days. So you lose what? A month before you move? Here, read this.”
    He slid the afternoon paper across the desk to her and she reluctantly sat down and read the story.
A nineteen-year-old ex-resident of Savior House and one of Archbishop Rushman’s favorite “rehabs” was arrested early today and charged with the mutilation murder of the Catholic prelate, police reports said.
Police named Aaron Stampler, of a Region Street address, as the “Butcherboy,” which police have nicknamed the brutal killer. Police said he will be charged with premeditated murder.
An unnamed source in the police department reported that Archbishop Rushman, known as the Saint of Lakeview Drive, was “sliced up like a piece of meat” with his own carving knife in the bedroom of the rectory at St. Catherine’s Cathedral. According to Lt. Abel Stenner, the murder occurred about 10 P.M. Monday. Stenner declined further comment.
“In 20 years on the force I never seen anything like it,” the source told a
Times
reporter. “It was horrifying and disgusting …”
    The rest of the story was mostly a bio of the victim. She threw the paper back across the desk.
    “Is it really as cut-and-dried as it sounds? I mean, if it’s thateasy there’s no glory in it. Jack, I could be construed as a bully before it’s over.”
    “There’s plenty of juice there, darlin’. Besides, this crazy kid claims he’s innocent.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I thought you had him cold.”
    “We do, but he still says he didn’t do it.”
    “What’s happened so far?”
    “Stenner and his team have been on it since last night. Ask him, he’s on his way up. Then make up your mind.”
    Venable had always found Stenner a very uncomfortable man to be around. He was a great cop, but working with him was like working with a robot.
    “He gives me the chills,” she said. “I mean, he’s a nice man and all but… he gives me the chills.”
    “He’s the best damn cop in the city.”
    “I don’t care. I like people with a little