by Amy Gutman
est in the details of her father’s life. When Anna asked, she would 21
tell her the truth. Until then, she’d wait.
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Which wasn’t to say, of course, that the past could be forgot-23
ten. The goal wasn’t to erase the past but to plumb its depths for 24
meaning. It was Tucker’s refusal to accept the past that had led to 25
his murderous rampage. Instead of moving forward with life, he’d 26
bound himself to the past, unable to find any meaning in life ex-27
cept in acts of revenge. Tod. It was the German word for death; 28
that’s why he’d picked the name.
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The scent of burning charcoal and freshly mown grass drifted 30
in through the open window. Anna and Henry had dropped their 31
racquets and stood by Rick at the grill.
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“Can we toast marshmallows after dinner?” Callie heard Anna 33
ask.
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“I don’t see why not,” said Rick. “Maybe we’ll make s’mores.”
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The two people she loved most were slowly moving closer. Once 1
Anna had learned the truth about Kevin, something had started 2
to shift. “She thought that her father had abandoned her,” ex-3
plained Anna’s therapist. “That was far more painful for her than 4
finding out the truth. Now she finally understands why your ex-5
husband disappeared. Over time, she may be willing to let some-6
one else be a father to her.”
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“Over time,” Callie whispered.
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The words were a sort of gift.
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Henry and Anna were back at the net, batting the birdie again.
10
Callie marveled at how untouched they could seem after every-11
thing they’d been through. Henry, too, had fled a home where 12
truth had been suppressed. Shortly after Henry and Anna’s deba-13
cle, Bernie had come clean. Not only had he been having an af-14
fair, Bernie Creighton was gay. He was moving to Boston with 15
John Casey, his guest at Callie’s dinner party. Strangely, though, 16
that upheaval, too, seemed to have been for the best. Mimi ap-17
peared to be calmer now. She, too, could finally relax.
18
The corn was bobbing in the boiling water. Callie found a pair 19
of tongs. As she pulled out the steaming ears, her mind traveled 20
over the years. She thought of Diane and The Vanishing Man. She 21
thought of Lester Crain. She thought of Mike Jamison, how right 22
he’d been. She thought of Melanie. They’d spoken briefly on the 23
phone last week. Callie had made the call. After getting a report 24
on Melanie’s health, she’d mentioned their last talk.
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“You know how you said that we’re alike?”
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A long, very long, pause.
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“You know, I just don’t remember. I was on a lot of drugs.”
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“You don’t remember what we talked about?”
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“I don’t remember the phone call.”
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Quickly, Melanie had steered the conversation back to neutral 31
terrain. Her upcoming wedding to another lawyer, her plans to 32
return to work. Had Melanie really forgotten their talk? Callie still 33
wondered. But it was one of the many things in life that she’d 34
probably never know.
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“Callie! You about ready?” Rick’s voice floated in through the 2
screen. From where she stood, she could see the kids sitting at the 3
picnic table. Tongs in hand, Callie fished around for the last 4
floating ear of corn. She added it to the yellow pile.
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“I’m on my way,” she called.
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Author’s Note
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In writing this book, I have — for the most part — tried to pro-5
vide realistic portrayals of criminal and forensic procedures. I 6
have, however, taken certain liberties. To wit, the state of Ten-7
nessee’s forty-year hiatus in carrying out death sentences ended 8
with the April 2000 execution of Robert Glen Coe for the 1979
9
murder of eight-year-old Cary Ann Medlin. Due to a lengthy ap-10
peals process, almost twenty years elapsed between Coe’s May 11
1981 conviction and his execution.
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Acknowledgments
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I’m vastly indebted to the following people, who supported and 5
guided me during the writing of this book.
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Thanks to my editor, Judy Clain, whose wonderful editorial 7
eye helped make this a much stronger story, and to her terrific as-8
sistant, Claire Smith. Thanks to Pamela Marshall for a superb 9
copyediting job, to Yoori Kim, who designed the stunni
ng cover, 10
and to my publicist, Shannon Byrne, to whom my debt grows 11
even as I write this.
12
As always, huge thanks to my agent, Nick Ellison, who, from 13
the start, has provided unwavering encouragement, friendship, 14
and advice, and to his hardworking cohorts, Jennifer Cayea, 15
Abigail Koons, and Katie Merrill.
16
On the research front, I’m immensely grateful to the law en-17
forcement and forensics professionals who kindly took time to 18
answer my questions and vet sections of my manuscript. Of 19
course, any factual errors or creative liberties are entirely my own 20
doing.
21
Thanks to Vernon J. Geberth, retired lieutenant commander 22
with the New York Police Department, and Raymond M. Pierce, 23
founder of the Criminal Assessment and Profiling Unit of the 24
NYPD’s Detective Bureau, who’ve now helped me through two 25
books.
26
Thanks to former Metro Nashville Assistant Public Defender 27
C. Dawn Deaner and Assistant District Attorney General Kathy 28
A. Morante for help with Tennessee criminal procedure.
29
In Massachusetts, thanks to Detective Lieutenant Kenneth 30
Patenaude and Lieutenant Brian Rust of the Northampton Po-31
lice Department, who helped me to come up with police proce-32
dures for the fictional town of Merritt, and to Kenneth Frisbie, 33
my firearms instructor at the Smith & Wesson Academy in 34
Springfield.
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In Maine, thanks to Detective Joseph W. Zamboni of the R 36
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Maine State Police, to Dr. Margaret Greenwald, Maine chief 2
medical examiner, and to the Knox County Sheriff’s Office, in-3
cluding Sheriff Daniel G. Davey, Chief Deputy Todd L. Butler, 4
and Deputy John Tooley, who helped me to devise procedures for 5
fictional Blue Peek Island. Thanks to State Police Sergeant Vicki 6
M. Gardner for a tour of the Skowhegan barracks.
7
In New York, thanks to Sergeant Richard J. Khalaf and 8
Sergeant James F. Kobel of the NYPD’s 20th Precinct and to 9
Sergeant Benedict Pape and all the dedicated instructors at the 10
NYPD’s Citizens’ Police Academy.
11
For inspiration, thanks go to Delaware Chief Medical Exam-12
iner Dr. Richard T. Callery.
13
For answers to medical questions, I’m grateful to Dr. Brian 14
Smith of Baystate Medical Center and to my second, anony-15
mous, consultant (you know who you are).
16
For assistance on a range of subjects — including manuscript 17
critiques and research help — thanks to Gordon Cotler, Ruth 18
Diem, Susan Garcia, Penny Geis, Theresie Gordon, Kirk Loggins, 19
Anne Paine, Kirstin Peterson, Marissa Piesman, Polly Saltonstall, 20
John Shiffman, Louisa Smith, and Kerstin Olson Weinstein.
21
This book is once again dedicated to my family, which has sup-22
ported me in so many ways in writing and all else: To my mother, 23
Janet Franz, my brother, Peter, my father and stepmother, Froncie 24
and Bonnie Gutman, and my sisters, Karin and Megan. I couldn’t 25
have done it without you.
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About the Author
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Amy Gutman, author of the widely acclaimed suspense novel 5
Equivocal Death, has worked as a newspaper reporter in Ten-6
nessee and Mississippi and was the founding director of the Mis-7
sissippi Teacher Corps. An honors graduate of the Harvard Law 8
School, Amy practiced law in Manhattan for several years before 9
writing her first book. She divides her time between New York 10
City and western Massachusetts and welcomes mail through her 11
website, www.AmyGutman.com.
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Special eBook Feature:
An Excerpt from
Amy Gutman’s
Equivocal Death
9858_00_i-viii_1-2_r5hb.qxd 9/28/00 3:53 PM Page iii equivocal
death
a n o v e l
amy
gutman
l i t t l e , b r o w n a n d c o m pa n y b o s t o n n e w y o r k l o n d o n 9858_01_003-152_r5hb.qxd 9/28/00 3:57 PM Page 3
Wednesday, December 23
1
2
Ice cold. He pressed his hand to the window and watched the frost 3
dissolve, felt the moisture collect on his palm. He’d switched off 4
the lights, and the interior darkness mirrored the inky void out-5
side. Standing immobile, he could almost imagine that he was 6
alone in the world or better yet that he did not even exist, that he 7
was simply a part of this floating emptiness, transported by waves 8
of black snow.
9
But his lungs filled with air. He felt the rhythm of his breath, 10
stark and fatal as an accusation.
11
He was alive.
12
And there was work to be done.
13
Moving away from the window, he switched on a Bestlite floor 14
lamp, acquired from a British import company during his last year 15
of school. He liked things to be well made. He surveyed the scene 16
before him. The space where he stood was cavernous, at least 17 sh
thirty feet long and twenty feet wide. Part of a former warehouse, 18 re
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A M Y G U T M A N
1
it was isolated enough to meet his need
s. His desk faced a sweep of 2
tall windows, while his clothes — Brooks Brothers suits, several 3
shirts, a tux — hung neatly on a portable chrome garment rack. A 4
Bose CD player sat on an antique table.
5
He was pleased with the space. Everything was just as he liked 6
it. The barren surroundings only underscored the beauty and fine-7
ness of his few selected possessions. His eyes traced the narrow 8
confines of his life.
9
Then, decisively, he made his entrance.
10
Moving to the CD player, he pushed Play. Instantly, the room 11
filled with the opening chords of Cherubini’s Medea. A 1959
12
recording. Remarkable music. Potent. Full of a terrible rage. He 13
glanced down at the CD cover, at the diva Maria Callas. Arched 14
nose. Raven hair. Hands splayed like claws. What was it he saw 15
there? A passion for vengeance — for justice — that matched his 16
own. The promise of its fulfillment. And with this, an unflagging 17
sense of order, of timeliness, of fate. It was this he needed above all 18
else. For even as the time for action grew closer, his confidence had 19
started to ebb. Why had he waited so long? The plan that had 20
seemed so brilliant when he first conceived it could at times seem 21
almost absurd. Again, he tried to push back these thoughts. It was 22
dangerous to think this way.
23
Sitting down at his desk, he turned on his laptop computer. The 24
screen flashed bright. From here on, it was almost too easy. The 25
most profitable law firm in the country. Thirty-seven partners who 26
counted themselves among the most respected lawyers in the 27
world. Power brokers and advisers, they counseled governments, 28
corporations, and the rare private individual with sufficient wealth 29
to pay their fees. And yet cracking their computer safeguards had 30
been child’s play.
31
Strange, the unerring detection of their clients’ vulnerabilities 32
and the utter disregard of their own. Samson’s computer network 33
had just been overhauled at huge expense. The mere fact of this in-ort 34
vestment had seemed to assuage their concerns. There was some-reg 35
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E Q U I V O C A L D E A T H
5
money. Their computer network was top of the line. Nothing more 1
need be said.
2
Besides, the elder statesmen of Samson disdained technology, 3
the proliferation of desktop computers. They yearned for the days 4
of dictation. Of pretty secretaries, heads bowed, recording their 5
every word. But in the end, even Samson had been forced to sub-6
mit. The firm’s quaint refusal to communicate by e-mail, once seen 7