Shad returns to his seat slowly enough that I can tell his witness has gone off script.

“Tell us about this other tape,” Quentin says.

“We found it in the hospital Dumpster,” Billy Byrd says in a defiant voice.

For a couple of seconds I stop breathing.

“What hospital?” Quentin asks.

“St. Catherine’s, where Dr. Cage puts his patients.”

Oh, man . . .

“And when was this?”

“The day after Viola Turner was found dead. As I said earlier, we made a maximum effort to find those tapes. We covered every place Dr. Cage might have been, and one was the hospital. And we found a Sony mini-DV tape in that Dumpster.”

I’m balling my fists so hard that my right tricep starts twitching. As I suspected all along, Quentin made a suicidal mistake in electing not to request discovery.

“And did the tape have anything on it?” Quentin asks.

Billy grimaces like a man with an ulcer. “No. It had been erased, just like the other one.”

Hell, yes! shouts a voice in my head, and my hands relax. Lost in the sands of time.

“I see,” Quentin says. “And did it also have Dr. Cage’s fingerprints on it?”

My right hand clenches once more.

“No, it had no fingerprints. It had been wiped clean.”

“Clean,” Quentin echoes. “No prints. On a tape found in a Dumpster.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you’re assuming. But in this case, I see no connection whatever between that tape and my client.”

“You will.”

“What does that mean?”

“The lot number on that tape matched the one that had the doc’s prints on it and the two that we found sealed in Ms. Revels’s house. And Dr. Cage had gone to the hospital the morning of Viola Turner’s death. I know that for a fact. He also went the next day, before skipping bail.”

This time Billy silences Quentin, and the pleasure in his face is almost sexual. After about ten seconds, Quentin says, “But there was nothing on the tape, correct?”

“That’s right.”

After several seconds of absolute silence, Quentin turns his chair and drives back to the defense table. “No further questions at this time, Your Honor.”

The courtroom feels as though some machine just sucked half the air out of it. No one knows quite what to do. In this strange silence, Judge Elder looks at his watch, and I do the same. It’s 4:09 p.m.

“Mr. Johnson,” says the judge, “do you have another witness?”

Shad comes to his feet and speaks in a measured voice. “I do, Your Honor. I had intended to call Lincoln Turner. However, in the heat of cross-examination, Sheriff Byrd mentioned evidence that I had not intended to bring forward until tomorrow. That has created a difficult situation.”

Judge Elder doesn’t look very sympathetic. “Explain, Counselor.”