“No idea.”
“Stabbing someone in a bar fight ten years ago.”
“Leo didn’t explain all of this,” Marcy said.
“That’s what I meant about tunnel vision. He probably has some theory as to why Rollins and the DNA don’t matter, because he’s convinced his guy’s guilty.”
“Leo said Gunther confessed.”
“And Gunther says he didn’t. No one else witnessed the confession, and this was before they started routinely videotaping interrogations.”
Marcy didn’t know Leo Farley well, but she knew him to be a good and honest man. She couldn’t imagine him fabricating a statement that hadn’t been made. She told Langland as much now.
“I’m not saying he made it up. He questioned Gunther multiple times over the course of several hours, alone and without a lawyer. Some cops don’t want to believe it, but it’s a proven fact that innocent people can be made to give false confessions under the right circumstances—or the wrong ones, as the case may be.”
“With all due respect, Detective, you don’t sound like a typical police officer. In fact, you sound more like my brother-in-law, Alex, and he was a defense attorney.”
Langland held up her palms. “I’m not saying that’s what happened. But I made a call to someone I know in the DA’s Office in the city, and she said Farley’s got his heels dug in on this case. He sees it as a personal attack on his integrity. She told me that if it were any ordinary detective who had handled the case, Gunther would probably have been released by now.”
“Based on skin cells?”
“They’ve got a hardened criminal’s DNA on the murder weapon, and no explanation for how it got there. I don’t want to get into the middle here, but Leo might not be objective when it comes to this. My focus is on finding your son, Marcy, not something that happened in the West Village eighteen years ago. Think about it: Leo Farley thinks Gunther’s behind Johnny’s disappearance because he’s convinced the man’s the type of sociopath who would kidnap a child to help his case. But if he’s actually innocent and his case is legit?”
Marcy now saw the connection between the new information Langland was providing and her belief that Gunther had nothing to do with Johnny’s disappearance. “Then the last thing he’d do is go out and commit a major new crime when a court is about to exonerate him.”
Langland leaned back in her chair, her point made.
“So you think I should ask Laurie not to pursue this,” Marcy said.
“Laurie and Leo can do whatever they would like. I just don’t think it’s going to help us find Johnny, I’m sorry to say. I don’t want you to have false hopes. And on that note, it’s now tomorrow. I think it’s time to set up the press conference we talked about yesterday.”
* * *
When Marcy returned to her hotel suite, she held three hundred fresh copies of the FindJohnny.com fliers. Her husband immediately rose from the sofa when she entered. Alex and Laurie were there as well.
“Thank God,” Andrew said, greeting her with a long hug. “We were getting worried about you.”
“The print shop took forever.” Another lie.
“I was texting you.”
“I’m not getting a signal out here,” she said. That was not a lie. According to Laurie, cell phone service in the Hamptons was notoriously glitchy. “I’m sorry I scared you. Where are the girls?”
“Leo volunteered to take them out to the lighthouse in Montauk. Giving them the appearance of normalcy like the experts say. I hope that’s okay with you. That’s why I was texting. Also, I don’t want to push, but I was thinking about that press conference. I think we should do it.”
“You read my mind,” she said, feeling guilty that she had already asked Detective Langland to set it up.
Chapter 24
Fifteen minutes later, Laurie hung up the phone on the desk in Alex’s hotel room. She was working from his room because Timmy was still sleeping in their room next door. From a chair in the corner, Alex looked at her expectantly.
“Well, that was the easiest ‘yes’ I’ve ever gotten from Brett Young,” she announced.
“It sounded like it was going well from this end.” Alex’s blue-green eyes sparkled with approval, and she realized how much she still missed working with him on the show. “He’s on board?”
“More than on board. He told me he’s behind me a hundred percent and to use the studio resources however I can to get the answers we need.”
“Maybe your stubborn, self-centered grump of a boss has a heart after all.”
“Or maybe he wants this wrapped up in time to spike our ratings before the next fiscal quarter. He was nearly panting at the thought of budding cultural icon Darren Gunther on camera, investigated by the daughter of the cop who landed him behind bars. Regardless of his intentions, what matters is that he’s giving me the green light.”
“But you’re still worried about the perception of a conflict of interest.”
“Not really. If there’s any chance Gunther’s involved in Johnny’s disappearance, I’ve got to try to find that out. It’s just a hunch for now, but I’m in a better position to act on that than the police. I can always pull the plug on the show if I have to. Brett will be furious, but Johnny’s the top priority. Now I have to pray that Gunther’s narcissistic enough to take the bait.”
“Only one way to find out.” Alex handed her his iPad. The browser on the screen was pulled up to the website of Tracy Mahoney, Esq., the criminal defense attorney who had recently agreed to represent Darren Gunther free of charge in his wrongful conviction claim. “Her number’s right there at the bottom. If I recall correctly, it forwards directly to her cell if she’s not in the office.”
* * *
As it turned out, Mahoney was in her office, and her secretary put Laurie’s call through when she explained who she was and that she was calling regarding Darren Gunther.
“Ms. Moran, what a surprising call! Or is your name Mrs. Buckley by now?”
Even though Laurie tried to keep her private life private, she wasn’t surprised that news of her engagement to Alex had spread like wildfire in the local attorney circles where Alex was a well-known fixture.
“First of all, call me Laurie. And we’re not quite to the altar yet, but I’ll be keeping my name in any case.” It was a decision she had finally made after weeks of uncharacteristic vacillation. She was young when she married Greg, less established in her career. She had taken Greg’s name because she wanted the entire family to share a surname, and it wasn’t a bad idea as a journalist for her to have a separate name from her well-known law enforcement father. Plus, she thought Laurie Moran had a nice ring to it. Now that was her name, and one she shared with Timmy and his father. When she broke the news to Alex, he told her he was surprised she had even considered the alternative.
“Good for you,” Mahoney said. “I did the same, but my husband’s last name is Macy, so that was an easy decision. Tracy Macy, can you even imagine? Besides, at this point, shouldn’t the men be taking our names? Women, we get the job done, right?”
Alex had already filled Laurie in on what he knew about Tracy. According to him, she had an easygoing manner and a sharp sense of humor. But beneath the breezy demeanor, she was also one of what he called the “true believers” of the defense bar, who fundamentally believed that the criminal justice system was broken at its core. Whereas Laurie recognized that even the best police departments had room for improvement, Tracy Mahoney was once quoted as comparing the NYPD to the Mafia. Alex said she was a skilled trial attorney, enough so that she could have earned a small fortune defending corporations and white-collar criminals. Instead, she took a few high-paying cases a year so she could afford to represent the rest of her clients pro bono to correct what she viewed as injustices. Gunther’s case was supposedly one of her passion projects, but Laurie knew that he could be looking at a huge payout if he succeeded in his wrongful conviction case, and his lawyer would be entitled to take a h
ealthy percentage of the award.
“Well, I’m hoping you’ll be able to help me get my job done, Tracy. I’m calling about Darren Gunther.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you’ve got a direct personal connection to the case.”
Laurie wasn’t entirely surprised that the attorney already knew she was Leo’s daughter. “I’m calling in my professional capacity, however. We’d like to give your client a chance to tell his side of the story to a national audience on our next Under Suspicion special. Are you familiar with our show?”
“Absolutely. I’m probably one of your top fans. I’m all for any show that points a spotlight on the failures of our so-called justice system.”
“That’s not exactly how I think of our program.”
“Why not? You’ve shown time and again that you and your team are able to get to the truth years after the police dropped the ball. You’ve not only caught more than your fair share of murderers, but also in the process, you’ve exonerated innocent people who for years lived under a cloud of suspicion. If you ask me, that makes you one of the good guys.”
“Then I’ll take the compliment, I suppose.” Laurie reminded herself that she did not want to like the woman accusing her father of wrongdoing.
“Well, I’m glad, because I’m afraid that’s all you’re going to get from me,” Tracy said glibly. “No way am I letting my client go on national television to be questioned by Leo Farley’s daughter.”
“As a fan of the show, I’m sure you’re aware that I don’t do the actual questioning. That would be done by the show’s host, Ryan Nichols.”
“Oh, even better: a blow-dried, blowhard former federal prosecutor. No thanks.”
A year ago, Laurie actually would have agreed with Tracy’s dismissive description of Ryan Nichols. Her boss Brett had chosen him over Laurie’s reservations, not because of his Harvard degree, Supreme Court clerkship, short stint at the U.S. Attorney’s Office, or even his sandy-blond hair, bright green eyes, and perfect teeth—but because he happened to be the nephew of Brett’s college roommate from Northwestern. After a rough start, however, Ryan had managed to ease into his role at the studio. He’d never fill Alex’s shoes or be her BFF, but he had proven to be an excellent on-camera questioner, deserving of at least half of the praise he enjoyed lavishing upon himself.
“Right now, your client has a handful of fawning celebrities who make a hobby of his case to burnish their own public images as justice crusaders. Sure, he’s gotten a couple of sidebar write-ups in national magazines, but I can offer him a prime-time national television viewing audience.”
“Again, courtesy of a biased producer.”
“You don’t think I’m aware of the potential perception of a conflict of interest?” From the corner, Alex flashed her a thumbs-up. She had run this argument past him in advance. “If anything, I’ll be the one to bend over backward to give Darren a fair shake. The last thing I want is for people to question my professionalism and say I was covering up for my father.”
“Giving him a ‘fair shake,’ as you say, might not be so easy when it involves some very serious accusations of wrongdoing against the beloved Leo Farley.”
Laurie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In her heart, she knew that no set of facts could ever convince her that her father would perjure himself to send an innocent man to prison. She pictured Johnny, alone in a dark room, crying. One step at a time, she reminded herself. Johnny first, worry about the show later.
“I wouldn’t make the offer if I didn’t think I could handle it,” Laurie said. “And if I’m not mistaken, it’s not your decision to make, Counselor. You have a duty to extend the offer to your client, do you not?”
She heard Tracy sigh on the other end of the line. “Guess you can’t be engaged to Alex Buckley without learning a thing or two about this job of mine.”
“Guess not.” She smiled in Alex’s direction.
“I’ll get back to you.” She did not say good-bye before disconnecting the call.
Laurie heard a knock on the door connecting Alex’s room to hers and Timmy’s. “Mom, is that you?”
She opened the door, and Timmy entered, wearing his Star Wars pajamas, his expressive eyes still sleepy behind the sandy-blond bangs that hung over his brow.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize it was locked,” she said. “You mean you could hear me through the walls?” She brushed his hair back away from his face and planted a kiss on his forehead. “I didn’t think I was that loud.”
“Nah, but I could sort of hear a woman’s voice and I thought, Well, that better be my mom.” He flashed a toothy grin at Alex. “Happy Birthday, Alex!”
“Why, thank you very much, kind sir.”
It was so much like her sweet boy to have someone else’s birthday at the top of his mind first thing in the morning.
“Is Johnny back yet?”
She saw the disappointment in his eyes as he read her expression. He looked down at his toes, and she pulled him into a hug. “Everyone’s still looking. Try not to worry.”
“But it was supposed to be surf lesson day. And then opening presents at lunchtime. We can’t do any of that without Johnny. We have to wait for him to come home.”
“I know, sweetie. And you’re right. We’re going to save all the fun stuff for him. And your grandpa has an idea about where Johnny might be, and I’m helping him figure it out.”
“Really?” Timmy’s eyes brightened with cautious optimism. She felt a pang in her heart. How long would this little man believe that his mother could fix the world’s problems?
“We’re going to try. Depending on how things play out, we may need to go back to the city early.”
* * *
An hour later, she and Alex were in Marcy and Andrew’s suite, helping them prepare for their press conference while Timmy played a video game. She stepped to the corner of the room to answer an incoming phone call. It was Tracy Mahoney.
“I spoke to my client. Against advice of counsel, he insists on sitting for the interview. But he wants it all on camera. I’ll be in the room, but won’t interfere, absent something beyond the pale, and I get a copy of the unedited footage in case you’re tempted to doctor it. I leave it to you to make arrangements.”
All eyes were on her when she ended the call. “Gunther took the bait. He’ll do the interview.”
They had already agreed that she’d be going back to the city to get her team ready in the event Gunther agreed. Marcy nodded stoically. “Thank you so much.”
“I’ll stay through the press conference.”
“No,” Marcy said. “I don’t want to waste a single minute. We’ll be fine here. Please, go do everything you can from the city.”
“Okay. I’ll be in constant touch.”
She was almost done packing when Alex arrived in her room, his own roller bag in tow. She had assumed she and Timmy would be driving his car home alone.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Marcy and Andrew insisted. I go where you go.”
Chapter 25
Marcy felt an involuntary smile break out across her face as Chloe and Emily spoke over each other with breathless delight on the other end of the telephone line.
It had taken her four tries before she was able to reach them. It turned out that Leo had lost his cell phone signal during the drive out to Montauk, but she had spent the intervening minutes in a panic, terrified that her girls had fallen into danger, too. She wondered if she would ever spend another moment unworried about her children again if they were out of her sight.
Now that she heard the girls’ happy voices, she realized they couldn’t be any safer than with Leo—always vigilant and always armed.
Even though most people would say the twins were as identical in sound as they were in appearance, Marcy had no difficulty differentiating their voices as they yelled into Leo’s cell phone.
“We went to a diner, Mama, and Grandpa Leo let us order chocolate-chip pancakes with blueberry
syrup and whipped cream on top!” That was Chloe, always so excited about her food. “And we had bacon, too—the real kind. Don’t tell Aunt Laurie because she tells Grandpa he’s supposed to eat the turkey kind.”
“And now we’re driving to see the lighthouse,” Emily squealed. “Grandpa Leo says we’ll be able to go to the very tip top and look out over the entire ocean.”
They had started referring to Laurie’s father as Grandpa Leo the previous evening after dinner, and Leo seemed happy enough to accept the honorary role.
She was on the sofa in their hotel suite. In a chair across from her, Andrew used his laptop to check the Find Johnny website for any tips that might have come in overnight. She placed her hand over her heart, letting him know how relieved she was that the girls were safe and sound after all of the redialing she had been doing in her search for them.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll let Leo hang up the phone before you two give him an earache with all that yelling.”
In addition to wanting to hear their voices, Marcy had called to make sure that Leo knew they were about to go live with the press conference, not to mention the various search groups that the police department had already organized around the area. On Marcy’s drive back from the print shop, she had noticed a group of upper-middle-aged women slowly walking through a nature preserve at the edge of the village. Wondering if they might be some of the volunteers Detective Langland had mentioned, she pulled over. It turned out they were a group that usually did a morning water aerobics class together at the YMCA pool, but had decided to spend their time helping with the search for that “cute little boy” instead.
As Marcy had driven away from the scene, all she could think about was the fact that the women had been looking down on the ground and behind the bushes as they walked. They weren’t looking for a boy who was playing or running or looking for his way back to the hotel. They were looking for a body.
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