Serenity has reclaimed her seat in the first row of the balcony; or perhaps she didn’t leave during lunch. If she had, she’d never have gotten that seat back. A pang of guilt hits me for not bringing her a sandwich. As I wave at her, she holds up a brown paper bag and gives me a quick grin.

Of course. Leave it to an ex-soldier to come prepared.

A sudden hubbub tells me Judge Elder is making his entrance. The tall robed figure looks neither right nor left as he makes his way to the bench. Once he’s settled and everyone takes their seats again, he says, “Call your next witness, Mr. Johnson.”

Shad rises. “The State calls Major Matthew M. Powers, United States Air Force, Retired.”

This time, when the back door of the courtroom opens, my father turns in his chair and rises to see over the crowd of spectators. The bloodless cast of his face looks like that of a man who has seen the dead walk.

Powers must be the man from Ohio, I think.

Though he must be over seventy, Major Powers strides to the witness box with the assured gait of a man ten years younger. He still has all his hair, close cropped and iron gray, and his eyes are clear and blue. He wears a gray suit over a white dress shirt and narrow black tie.

As he’s sworn in, I sense that my father has been bowled over by his appearance. Twice Dad has bent his head and whispered something to Quentin, but Quentin just patted his arm in reassurance. I have a feeling that Quentin—along with my father—is about to pay the price for not requesting discovery.

“Major Powers,” Shad begins, “do you know the defendant in this case, Dr. Tom Cage?”

“I do. Or I did, long ago.”

“When did you meet him?”

“On one occasion. November thirtieth, 1950.”

“And where was this?”

“Beside a road in North Korea, southwest of the Chosin Reservoir.”

Even before Major Powers finishes his answer, I know that nothing he could tell us about something that happened during the Korean War is admissible as evidence in this case. It must fall under the heading of “prior bad acts.” Yet Quentin shows no sign of preparing to object. It’s all I can do not to get to my feet and do it myself.

“What were you doing there at that place and time?” Shad asks the major.

“I had been flying a Lockheed Shooting Star for the air force. The F80 was designed as an air-to-air fighter, but on November twenty-fifth the Chinese troops that had secretly flooded over the border hit the Second Division and overran all the American positions, so we were pressed into service in a ground support role—”

“Penn?” whispers my mother. “They shouldn’t be able to bring Korea into this trial, should they?”

“No.”

“Then why doesn’t Quentin stop Johnson?”