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were forced to fire employees, even when they weren’t sure if they were legal. Since the law passed, more than twenty-five thousand immigrants had left Tulsa County alone, many of them legal citizens with illegal family members. With a smaller pool of workers, higher prices and wages soon resulted. Some predicted this would spur the greatest economic disaster for the state since the Dust Bowl.
    Yes, that had to be it. And that was fine. Ben would be happy to deal with anything as calm and rational as an immigration problem. It would be a welcome change of pace, in fact.
    “Good afternoon,” Ben said as he entered the office, extending his hand. “I’m Benjamin Kincaid.” They exchanged introductions.
    “How can I help you?” He grinned a little. “An immigration difficulty, perhaps?”
    The client leaned forward. “I was wondering if you could arrange a pardon for me.”
    Ben stared at the man. “You say you want—a pardon?”
    “Yes. Someone killed my wife. And no one is doing anything about it. So I wondered if you could arrange a pardon in the event that … someone does.”
    Ben fell into his chair. Maybe it would be better to leave the character assessments to Christina, after all.
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Thomas, but I don’t have the power to grant pardons.”
    “I thought maybe you could put in a good word with the governor who appointed you. Or the president. You worked with him on that constitutional amendment, didn’t you?”
    “Well, yes, but I don’t think he liked the way it came out.”
    “The governor would be sufficient.”
    Ben stared at the man, wondering where to begin. He had been right on one point—Dennis Thomas was smart and was well educated. He taught Victorian literature at the University of Tulsa, which had one of the finest English faculties in the nation. But on this subject, he was clearly not objective. Possibly not even rational. “I hope you’re not contemplating doing something … extreme.”
    “How do you mean?”
    “I’m not here to help people get away with crimes of revenge.”
    “Aren’t you a lawyer?”
    “Yes …”
    “And you handle murder cases?”
    Ben felt his heart speed up a beat. “Well, yes …”
    “You got that senator off.”
    “He was innocent.”
    “Yeah. Look, all I want is a pardon. I don’t think I should have to spend the rest of my life in jail because some bastard cop killed my wife.”
    “Cop?” Ben took a deep breath. “In the first place, Dennis, you won’t get life. You kill a cop, you’ll almost certainly be executed. In the second place, what are you talking about? I haven’t heard about any cops out on murder sprees.”
    “He refused to investigate. Wouldn’t even open a file. I asked him repeatedly. Every day from the moment she disappeared. He wouldn’t do it.”
    “He must’ve had a reason.”
    “He had lots of reasons. But he didn’t do it because he didn’t want to. He’s just occupying oxygen, waiting to put his twenty on. My wife wasn’t enough to get him off his butt.”
    “So you blame your wife’s death—”
    “She didn’t just die, Senator. She suffered. She was seriously wounded, trapped in a car for seven days, slowly dying. In excruciating pain. Can you imagine what that felt like, to experience that kind of agony, and dehydration, and starvation? For seven days? Eventually, I got someone else to authorize an investigation. Do you know how long it took them to find her? Three hours! She suffered for seven days because that dirty cop couldn’t spare three hours!”
    “I can tell you’re upset, and I don’t blame you. But believe me, revenge is not the right course of action. File a civil suit if you must.”
    “Civil suits against the police never succeed.”
    Sadly, Ben knew he was largely correct. “I can’t condone crime. And I certainly can’t in any way support you in a crime that hasn’t even happened yet.”
    Dennis drew himself up slowly, folded his hands, and took a deep