by Marti Green
Just before the end of the day, Dani’s assistant, Carol, walked into her office and placed a copy of the New York Times on her desk, opened to page three of the Metro section. “I thought you might be interested in this,” she said.
Dani thanked her and began scanning the article. A project run by the University of Michigan had shown a record number of exonerations in 2015—more than double that of 2011. One hundred forty-nine wrongly convicted people were freed. Forty percent had been convicted of a murder charge, and five of them were on death row. The average time in prison before exoneration was fourteen years. Twenty-seven of the cases involved a false confession. Dani knew from experience that once a suspect confessed, even if the confession was quickly withdrawn, jurors inevitably couldn’t get past that. It was understandable. Twelve men and women who’d never been arrested, never been interrogated for hours on end, never made to doubt their own reality, rarely could understand why a person would confess to a crime he or she hadn’t committed. Yet over and over, it happened.
The article went on to attribute seventy-one of the exonerations to the efforts of two individual district attorneys—one in Brooklyn, New York, and one in Harris County, Texas. Each had undertaken an effort to review questionable convictions. Imagine, Dani thought, if every county in every state made such an effort. Imagine, if just two counties found seventy-one innocent men and women serving time for crimes they didn’t commit, how many others were in such a predicament throughout the country? She often thought about those numbers, and sometimes it overwhelmed her. Bruce regularly admonished her to distance herself from her clients, to avoid becoming emotionally affected by their plights, but she’d never been able to do that. When she freed an innocent client, she rejoiced. When she failed, she’d be despondent for days. And if the client she failed was on death row, when she’d been convinced of that client’s innocence, she raged at a system so imperfect, so callous, that judicial economy trumped a person’s life.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the anger that had welled up while reading the article. “You can’t save the world, just one person at a time,” Doug always told her. She turned back to her papers. Today, she would try to save Eddie Coleman.
CHAPTER
15
1994
He knew he had to try it again, this time just like the first. He went to still another town, far away from the first and second, and checked in to a motel. Not seedy and not fancy. The kind of nondescript row of rooms that catered to traveling salespeople and cheating spouses. On the first day, he waited near the local high school, checking out the girls, finding the right one. As soon as he spotted her, with long wavy hair the same color as Kelly’s, a tight cheerleader’s body, and a look that said she was too good for the boys her age, he knew it had to be her.
He followed her home that day, saw where she lived, then for two days watched her house. Not always in the same spot. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, although his car was as nondescript as his motel. She had a mother and a father, and one younger brother. Perfect, he thought. Unlikely that she’d share a room with her brother. It had been messy business with Kelly’s little cousin. No need to do that again. On the second day, when he watched the girl enter her home after school, he looked to see if a light went on in a front upstairs bedroom. It didn’t. On the third day, after she came home, he left his car and slipped into her backyard. There it was—a light in the upstairs window on the left side of the house. He waited a little longer and heard loud music come from the room. It had to be hers.
At 3:00 a.m.—it needed to be that time—he removed the folding ladder from his trunk, walked into the girl’s backyard, and placed it up against the wall. The lights in the surrounding houses were off, the street quiet. He’d brought tools to open a locked window, but he didn’t need them. It was early October, and the night air still carried a warm breeze, but not so hot as to need air-conditioning. The window was open, with just a screen covering it. Just like the first time. A good sign.
He removed the screen, dropped it to the ground, and entered the bedroom. The full moon provided just enough light to reveal the twin bed, with the girl sleeping soundly under a light blanket. Soundlessly, he made his way over to her, then gently shook her awake. He needed her to see him; he needed to see the fear in her eyes before he choked her into silence. As her eyes slowly opened, at first confused and then terrified, she opened her mouth to scream. He was ready. He placed the webbing between his thumb and index finger on her windpipe and wrapped the rest of his fingers around the back of her neck. Then, with his thumb, he pushed down on her windpipe and held it there until her eyes closed, and her body went slack. With Kelly, he’d reacted instinctively, squeezing her neck until she’d passed out. He was lucky, then, that he hadn’t killed her in the bedroom. Now, for this, he’d studied what he’d needed to do to knock out his victim without killing her. The killing would come later.
He scooped her up out of the bed, then threw her body over his shoulder. Then he eased open the bedroom door, scanned the empty hallway, and carried her down the stairs and outside into the autumn night. Once at his car, he laid her down on the backseat, took the rope he’d left on the floor, tied her hands and feet, then placed electrical tape over her mouth. When he was satisfied that even if she woke up, she couldn’t do him any harm, he retrieved his ladder from the backyard.
He’d found a park with a little lake in the town. He would have preferred a creek, but he’d make do. Even though the streets were empty, he was careful to drive at the speed limit, to stop at every red light. When he reached the lake, he parked the car and carried the still-unconscious girl, then carefully laid her down on the grass and removed the tape across her mouth. He waited until she woke, and this time, when she started screaming, he didn’t choke her at first. Instead, he placed his hand over her mouth and said, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”
She tried to roll away from him, but he restrained her.
“If you stop fighting me, I’ll let you go.”
Slowly, she nodded, and he took his hand off her mouth.
“Who are you?”
“I’m someone who likes you. You’re pretty.”
She turned her face away from his. “You’re crazy,” he heard her whisper.
And so he choked her, tightly this time, squeezing the life out of her, biting her arm as she swung it in his face, just like with Kelly, feeling the arousal he’d felt with Kelly, feeling the power in his hands. Feeling godlike.
CHAPTER
16
Tommy drove up to the two-story Craftsman-style house on a tree-lined street in Ormewood Park just after 7:30 p.m. He noted the late-model Acura MDX in the driveway and hoped that meant Adam Braden was home. He walked up the steps of the full-length front porch, rang the doorbell, and waited. A minute later, the door was opened by an attractive woman with a curvy body, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, holding a toddler in her arms. She looked at him quizzically before saying, “Hello.”
“Are you Mrs. Braden?”
“I am. And who are you?”
Tommy handed her his card. “I’m hoping that your husband is home.”
“You’re the one helping Jack Osgood, aren’t you?”
“My office is, yes.”
“I suppose if I tell you to leave him alone, you’ll just keep coming back.”
“I don’t want to cause him any pain. But a man is going to be executed soon, and I just want to make absolutely sure he deserves it. I promise I won’t take up much of your husband’s time.”
The woman hesitated, then opened the door wider. “Come on in.”
Tommy stepped into the foyer. Straight ahead was the kitchen, and beyond that Tommy glimpsed what looked like a den, or family room. Three more children, two girls and one boy, were huddled around a TV, game consoles in hand.
“Adam,” the woman called up the stairs, “that investigator is here to talk to you. The one your mom called about.” She placed the toddler do
wn on the floor, told her to join her siblings, then turned to Tommy and held out her hand. “I’m Sarah.”
After Tommy shook it, she led him into the living room. Moments later, they were joined by Adam. He was built like Tommy—tall, carrying a little too much weight, but nevertheless sporting muscles that no doubt came from regular visits to the gym. Adam nodded to Tommy, then sat down on the couch next to his wife.
“I appreciate your talking to me,” Tommy said. “You probably knew your sister even better than your parents. At least that’s how it was when I was growing up. We’d keep secrets from the folks, but never from each other.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Did your sister ever tell you she was worried about someone?”
Adam shook his head.
“What about her boyfriend?”
“Greg? He’d never hurt her. We were friends back then. Played high school football together. We all went to UGA together, pledged the same fraternity, rented a house together our junior and senior years.”
“What do you mean, all?”
“Me, Greg, Derek, and Russ.”
“Derek Whitman?”
“Yeah.”
“Whitman went to high school with you and Greg?”
“That’s right. We’d been friends since middle school.”
Tommy searched through the notes Dani had made of the trial transcript. After each witness was a summary of their testimony and where they lived. Whitman had given an address in Athens, where the university was located. Why hadn’t the defense counsel brought out where he grew up, that he’d been friends with Greg for years? It seemed all the more likely now that Whitman would lie for Greg. Give him an alibi, no matter what.
“Do you still keep in touch with Greg?”
“Not really. We drifted apart after I got married and the kids started coming.” Adam looked toward the den, then turned back, his face paler. He lowered his chin to his chest. “We’d been so close, me and Kelly. After she was killed, I was lost. She was my only sibling, the only one I could talk to about family things. I never wanted my own kids to face that. So, we have four. If, God forbid, something happened to one, they’d have each other to lean on.”
“How old are they?”
“The youngest is two and the oldest sixteen. Same age Kelly was when . . .” His voice trailed off.
“I know.”
“She complains all the time that I restrict her too much. But I don’t care. When she’s older, has her own kids, she’ll understand.”
“I’m sure she will. I’ve got five kids of my own. I know how it is.” Tommy already had two away at college. Tricia was next. She was sixteen, just like Braden’s daughter, just like Kelly had been when she’d been murdered. He couldn’t comprehend how any parent recovered from that. He knew he wouldn’t.
Just then, a girl around ten, Tommy guessed, barreled into the living room, screaming, “Julie is hogging the Xbox! Tell her to stop.”
Sarah stood up and led her daughter back into the den.
Tommy started to gather up his papers and stuff them back into his briefcase. “Just one more thing,” he said as he stood up. “Do you have any idea where Greg is living now?”
“I heard he moved to Boston. That’s all I know.”
Adam walked Tommy to the front door and opened it. Before Tommy left, he asked, “How’s your cousin doing? Lisa. Wasn’t she hurt that night?”
“She’s doing fine.”
“No lasting injuries?”
“None, thankfully.”
“And psychologically? Any trauma left over from that night?”
Adam lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “Of course there is. For all of us. My sister died. And Lisa had been with her when she was taken.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound callous. I just wanted to see if she’d been able to get on with her life.”
Adam’s mouth curved into a smile. “She’s doing well. Became a lawyer.”
“I bet she’s a prosecutor, right?”
“That’s what we all expected, but no. She’s a federal public defender.”
“You get to see her much?”
“Family gatherings. She met her husband at law school. He was from Houston, and she settled there with him.”
“Yeah? What’s his name?”
Adam hesitated. “Look, everyone in the family knows what you’re doing. If Lisa wants to speak to you, she knows how to reach you. I can’t help you find her.”
Tommy thanked Adam, then left. Adam was wrong. He had given Tommy a lead for finding Lisa. Even more important, he’d given him a possible lead for finding Greg. And he’d strengthened Tommy’s suspicion that Greg was the real killer.
CHAPTER
17
Relief washed over Dani. The US Supreme Court had issued a temporary stay of Osgood’s execution. They still hadn’t determined whether they would grant certiorari in his case, but for now, at least, he would remain alive.
She worked quickly to finish up anything that was pressing so that she could leave the office by 3:00 p.m. She had her coat on and was about to leave when a call came from the prosecutor in Eddie Coleman’s case. She’d prevailed on him to test the white substance, still in the evidence files, that had landed Coleman in jail. “Got some good news for me?” she asked when she picked up the phone.
“Great news for you. A black mark for us. I don’t know how this happened, but you were right. It was benzocaine. I’ll start the paperwork to get Coleman released.”
Dani thanked him, then quickly left the office as soon as she hung up. Today, she couldn’t be late. It was Halloween, and Ruth’s first time trick-or-treating. Dani had bought her a cat costume—a big, puffy black body, decorated with the face of a cat, orange-and-black striped tights, and a black headband with cat ears. Jonah insisted on wearing the same costume year after year—Superman—even though the children his age in the neighborhood now refused to wear anything more than a mask. Together, they’d join the other families with kids who lived on the block and go door-to-door. Dani loved seeing the costumes the other kids were wearing as much as she loved dressing Ruth and Jonah. It was her favorite holiday.
She walked in the door at twenty to four. Jonah’s bus would drop him off at four, so she’d have a few precious minutes alone with Ruth.
“Hi,” Doug said when he saw her.
Dani beamed. “What a nice surprise. I didn’t expect you home yet.”
“I left early.”
“Don’t you teach Con Law at three?”
“I canceled it. Didn’t want to miss Ruthie’s first Halloween.”
Dani threw her arms around her husband and gave him a kiss. “I knew there was a reason I married you.”
Dani found Ruth upstairs in her room with Katie. As soon as Ruth saw her mother, she threw up her arms. “Mama, Mama.”
Dani picked her up and nestled her nose in the soft skin of Ruth’s neck.
“I just bathed her,” Katie said.
Nothing compared to the sweet smell of a baby, Dani thought as she held Ruth—fresh from the bath, baby powder all over her bottom. “Want to go trick-or-treating today?” she asked her.
Ruth nodded. It always amazed Dani how many words her daughter understood, even though she couldn’t say them herself. Katie left to go home, while Dani stayed upstairs and played with her daughter. Five minutes before Jonah’s bus was due to arrive, she dressed Ruthie in her costume, then brought her downstairs.
Doug couldn’t hold back a laugh when he saw her. “That’s about the cutest cat I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“Don’t let Gracie hear you say that.” Gracie was their cat—fat, lazy, and terrified ever since Ruth had learned to walk.
When Jonah arrived, he quickly put on his Superman costume. Dani filled a bowl with candy and left it on the front porch. Then, with Ruth in a stroller, the family headed over to their next-door neighbor’s home. Rose Marten, with two sons close in age to Jonah, always joined th
em as they walked door-to-door asking for treats. Dani loved the block they lived on—homes built in the fifties and sixties but filled with school-age children. The families got together several times each year at one of the homes. Tonight, the Martens would host. After the trick-or-treating was finished, they’d all converge on their home for pizza, and the kids would look over their haul from the afternoon.
By the second house, the boys were running ahead, and Rose hurried to keep up with them. As Dani, pushing the stroller, quickened her pace, Doug placed his hand on her arm. “Let’s hold back a bit. I have something to tell you.”
Dani looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak.
“I got a call from a headhunter today. Stanford is looking for a new dean for its law school, and I’m on the short list.”
Dani stopped short. “But that’s in California.”
“Is change bad? No snow, rarely freezing temperatures, an hour from San Francisco.”
“I’ll take snow over earthquakes.”
“Seriously, Dani. It’s a great opportunity.”
Dani turned toward Doug. The smile that had been on her face as she’d watched the children disappeared. “I have a job here. One that I love.”
“There are jobs there. Any place would be lucky to get you.”
Dani knew she should be pleased for Doug. She knew she should be supportive of his goals. After all, he earned far more at his job than she did working for a nonprofit. Instead, she felt miserable. New York was home. Always had been. It was where they’d met and married. Where Jonah and Ruth had been born. And where Jonah was thriving. How could she uproot him and take a chance that across the country she’d find a school that was just as nurturing as the one he now attended? Where orchestras would recognize his musical talent? Where doctors were familiar with the medical risks associated with Williams syndrome? She took Doug’s hand and turned him to face her. Her eyes bored into him. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want to move.”