The Price of Justice

by Marti Green

  “Now, I’ve read both your briefs. No need to go over that here. This conference is mandated by law, and so we’re having it. But unless you have something new to add, I understand both your positions. I’ll render my decision before the week is out.”

  Whiting sat back in his chair with a self-satisfied look on his face, leaving Dani to wonder if he knew something she didn’t.

  Two days later, Judge Hinchey’s decision lay on her desk. She’d read it once, with cool detachment. So unlike her usual feelings of despair, mixed with anger, when a ruling went against her. She wondered if it was because of her lingering disquiet over her client’s innocence.

  She picked up her phone and asked Melanie and Tommy to come into her office. When they arrived, she announced, “We lost Win’s motion for a new trial.”

  Melanie sunk down in her chair. “Without an evidentiary hearing? What reason did the judge give?”

  “Pretty much mirrored Whiting’s brief. The Timely Justice Act barred any new appeals. Even if it didn’t, he found Sanders’s confession to be noncredible without corroborating evidence, and the fact that he could be placed in the area didn’t amount to much.”

  “But what about the butterfly tattoo? And the initials in the tree?” Melanie asked. “Those facts hadn’t been released to the public. How else would Sanders have known about them?”

  “It wasn’t enough for the judge.”

  Tommy frowned. “So what now?”

  Dani wanted to answer that it was time to leave it alone and take on another case. It was always going to be difficult to get a new trial for Winston. They’d given it a shot and failed. Move on. But the board of directors had instructed HIPP to take Win’s case, and they wouldn’t let her give up now. Even though they’d already received the first payment of $500,000, the board wouldn’t want her to walk away from the possibility of another half million. Besides, Dani knew, if the client were anyone else, she would never stop with one loss. She’d fight until no fights were left.

  She sat quietly for a moment, fiddling with the pencil in her hand, then leaned back in her chair. “We start from the beginning. Treat this as an investigation into the original crime. Interview everyone who knew the victim and knew Winston. Talk to people who were at the dance that night. Pore over the police records.” She stopped, then smiled. “They want corroboration? Let’s find it for them.”

  Now, Tommy’s frown disappeared. They were about to embark on what Dani knew Tommy loved most about his job. “When do we leave?”

  Dani leafed through her appointment calendar. “Two days. Clear up what you can tomorrow, then we’ll head to Florida.”

  “How long do you expect you’ll be away?” Doug asked.

  It was “honeymoon hour,” and Dani had filled Doug in on the denial of her motion for a new trial. As always, she was snuggled next to him on their worn-down couch. The nights were starting to get cooler, but not cold enough yet to turn on the heat. A throw blanket covered her up to her chin. “Don’t know. Could be just a few days if we can’t find anyone. It’s been seven years since the murder. Or it could be a week or two.”

  “But you’ll be back on Saturday, right?”

  “Maybe. I just don’t know yet.”

  Doug pushed Dani off his chest and sat upright. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

  Dani looked at him blankly, and then it hit her. “Oh, no! Jonah’s symphony!”

  The Westchester Philharmonic was performing his symphony on Saturday evening. Dani’d had the date marked in her calendar for many months. How could she have forgotten it? Once again, an onslaught of guilt washed over her, a feeling that she’d often had to push away since she’d returned to work six years ago.

  “No matter what, I’ll be here for it. Even if I just come home for the concert, then go back again.”

  Doug nodded. “Good. It’s important to Jonah.”

  Dani looked over at Doug. How easy it is for you. Maybe for most men. You go off to work and leave your child with someone else, and never give a thought to whether you should be home. Dani could feel her resentment build, then stopped. Doug was as shackled by society’s expectation that men earn a living as she was by women’s prescribed role as the one responsible for child care. Both expectations were unfair. She leaned back down into Doug’s chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  Dani thought back to her own childhood. Both her parents had worked. She came home from school each day to Jenny, her nanny from the time she was a toddler. Even though her mother didn’t greet her when she stepped off the school bus, Dani returned each day from school happy to be enveloped in Jenny’s warm embrace. She never harbored any doubts that her mother loved her dearly, never felt that her mother cared more about her job than her daughter. Yet, despite her own happy remembrances of childhood, she couldn’t shake the feeling when she returned to work that she’d be shortchanging Jonah. Fortunately, as the years passed and he grew older, that feeling had mostly disappeared, only returning occasionally. Forgetting about Jonah’s upcoming symphony once more triggered her self-recriminations.

  “You’re feeling guilty again, aren’t you?” Doug said, always seemingly able to read her mind.

  Dani nodded.

  “I don’t suppose anything I say will ease your mind.”

  She shook her head. He had reassured her over and over, and her intellect said he was right. If only her emotions followed suit.

  It was close to midnight when Dani stepped out of her home office and headed to bed. Doug had long since turned in, but she needed to wrap up some work before she flew to Florida the next morning. She poked her head into Jonah’s room and saw that he was sleeping soundly. When he slept, curled up with his blanket wrapped around him, he almost looked like any other child. But his pixie-like facial features marked him as a Williams-syndrome child. She marveled at how big he’d grown. The time seemed to have flown by, as though he’d been caught in a whirlwind that sped up his growth from infant to toddler to adolescent. She’d worried so much when he was little. Worried about the medical problems he might face because of his condition, worried about leaving him with a sitter when she returned to work, worried about what his future would hold, especially after she and Doug died. Now, thanks to a wonderful teacher at the special school he attended, those worries had subsided. Not disappeared, but greatly diminished. She felt optimistic that he would not only survive, but with his musical talent, thrive.

  She tiptoed inside and kissed his forehead, then closed his door behind her and quietly entered her bedroom. Guided only by the night-light in the hallway, she retrieved a nightgown from her dresser, then made her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she stared at herself in the mirror over the sink. Coarse gray hairs sprouted from the top of her head, marring her best feature—her thick brunette hair falling in waves to her shoulders. Is it time? she wondered. She’d always thought she’d let her hair gray naturally, as her mother had. But her mother had taught elementary-school children, where gray hair instilled visions of grandmothers and warm embraces. It was different in the business world—and that extended to courtrooms—where youth was revered. Judges sitting high on the bench and supposedly instilled with founts of wisdom often had gray hair—a homage to the years they’d spent toiling in the ranks before ascending to a ruling position. Attorneys were different. When law schools across the nation churned out thousands of new lawyers every year, firms and agencies were filled with young firebrands yearning to make their mark. Unless you were a senior partner in a law firm and therefore automatically admired, gray hair meant you were past your prime. Even if you were only Dani’s age.

  Dani stepped back from the mirror to examine the rest of her body. Her face had fine lines around her eyes, but otherwise, her skin was still smooth and taut. She’d never gotten rid of the extra ten pounds she’d gained after Jonah was born, but she’d always been slim. Although she missed the flat sto
mach she’d once had, the extra weight gave her curves that Doug found appealing. She looked up again at her hair. Yes, she concluded. It’s time.

  Dani was back at Florida State Prison, sitting across a table from Win Melton in an attorney interview room. Melanie and Tommy had headed straight to West Palm Beach. Dani would join them later.

  “I know you’re disappointed with the decision, but we’re not giving up. You shouldn’t either,” Dani said.

  Win’s head hung low on his chest, and an aura of melancholy oozed from every pore.

  “It should have been enough,” he said, his voice soft. “He confessed—that guy. If he admitted he murdered Carly, how can they execute me?” He looked up at Dani, his face drawn and gray. “I didn’t kill her. I swear to you, it wasn’t me.”

  Dani reached over and cupped her hand over his. “We’re going to do our own investigation. Too often, police settle on a suspect and stop looking. I think they did that with you.” She pushed a sheet of paper and a pen over to Win. “I need you to write down everyone you were friends with back then, when you were in your Palm Beach home. And write down the names of Carly’s friends. We’re going to speak to all of them. Put a check next to the ones that knew both of you.”

  Win took the sheet and just stared at it. After several minutes, he picked up the pen and began writing. When finished, he said, “Other than one, I don’t know where they are. I became a nonperson to them after my conviction. Not even a letter from any of them.”

  “Who’s the one?”

  “Max Dolan. He used to be my best friend. Still writes me now and then.”

  “Don’t worry about the other names. We’ll track them down.” Dani took the sheet back from Winston. There were fourteen names on the list, three with check marks. It would be the starting point for their investigation.

  After she left the prison, Dani scanned the names into her cell phone, then e-mailed the list to Tommy and Melanie. They’d get started right away in trying to track down potential witnesses. She drove back to the airport, then hopped a flight to West Palm Beach. She arrived in time to join Melanie and Tommy for dinner.

  “How’s he holding up?” Melanie asked.

  “About what you’d expect.”

  Tommy bent down and retrieved a sheet from his briefcase. “I ran down the names. Eight are still around, including two of the checked ones.”

  “Good. We’ll get started in the morning.”

  “Won’t they be at work?” Melanie asked.

  “Probably. But we can check at their homes and see if someone there—maybe a spouse, maybe a nanny, maybe a neighbor—knows where they work,” Tommy answered. He turned to Dani. “I think there’s another name we need to add.”

  “Who?”

  “Greg Kincaid.”

  Melanie looked at Tommy quizzically. “Who’s that?”

  “The kid who took Carly to the dance.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  At eight a.m. the next morning, Tommy knocked on Greg Kincaid’s front door. The address Tommy had for him was the same one he’d had in high school. The one-story home looked identical to every other one on the block, the only differences being the color of the vinyl siding and shutters around the windows. A woman a foot shorter than Tommy, wearing a bathrobe frayed at the edges and holding a cup of coffee in one hand, answered the bell.

  “Does Greg Kincaid live here?”

  The woman, her short gray hair still tousled from bed, with dark circles under her eyes, looked Tommy over. “Who’s asking?”

  Tommy handed her his card, which she glanced at briefly.

  “Whaddya want with him?”

  Tommy put on his most reassuring smile. “Just a few questions. We’re representing Winston Melton on his appeal. Are you Greg’s mother?”

  “Yeah. And he doesn’t know anything. He told the police back when it happened that he never saw her after she left the dance with that rich boy.”

  Tommy glanced past the woman standing in the doorway. On the left of the foyer, he saw a living room with a worn couch and a club chair. Straight ahead was a dinette table. He suspected it was part of the kitchen. He heard a rustling movement coming from that direction.

  “Greg, is that you?” he called out.

  The woman in the doorway glared at him, but moments later, a young man dressed in pressed chinos and a button-down shirt and tie walked toward him. “It’s all right, Ma,” he said as he approached the door. He took the card from his mother’s hand, then looked at Tommy. “Why don’t you come in? I’m on my way to work, but I have a few minutes.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kincaid waved Tommy toward the living room, then followed him in.

  “Care for a cup of coffee?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Mind if I get one for myself?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Tommy waited until Kincaid returned, a mug of coffee in his hand. Unlike his mother, who looked like she could lose thirty pounds, Kincaid had a slight build, with a mop of sandy-brown hair falling over his forehead. Despite having ears that stuck out, he had a clean-cut, sloe-eyed face that Tommy thought women would find attractive. Once he sat down, Tommy said, “My office is representing Winston Melton. We’re interviewing everyone who was friends with him or Carly Sobol.”

  “I thought they set a date for his execution. The local paper ran the story.”

  “They have. But someone else has just confessed to the murder.”

  “So why are you here? Won’t they let Win out?”

  “It isn’t so simple. We need to prove the killer’s confession is truthful.”

  Kincaid just nodded and waited for Tommy to continue.

  Tommy took out a picture of Sanders from his folder. “Ever see him before?”

  Kincaid looked it over, then shook his head.

  “You were the last one with Carly before she left the high school. Can you tell me what you remember about that night?”

  “Sure. Carly and I had been dating for a few months. We went to the dance at the high school, sort of paired up, but you know, it was a whole group of us. Anyway, about an hour into it, I saw Win Melton standing in the doorway of the gym.” Kincaid paused to take a gulp of his coffee. “Carly and I were dancing, and when the song was over, I left her to get some drinks for us. When I returned, she was gone. That’s it. I didn’t find out until the next morning what had happened to her.”

  “How did you know Win? Were you friends with him?”

  Kincaid spread his arm out and waved it across the living room. “Look around. Do you think we traveled in the same circle? No, we weren’t friends. Far from it. But I’d seen him around over the years. I knew who he was when I saw him at the dance.”

  Tommy sat back in his seat and took in the surroundings. The furniture, not just worn, appeared to be inexpensively made. The windows had blinds, their slats uneven, without curtains softening the starkness. The floor was covered in thinning carpet. Palm Beach was such a city of contrasts—the huge mansions along the coast, with small, run-down homes not so very far away. Maybe it was the same in every city; Tommy hadn’t traveled enough to know. It was certainly true in Manhattan, where multimillion-dollar condominiums and town houses were just a few blocks away from slums. Such wealth in the face of the less fortunate had to breed resentment.

  “When you came back with the drinks and Carly was gone, what did you think?”

  “I thought exactly what happened. She spotted Win and left with him.”

  “Didn’t that make you angry?”

  Kincaid turned his head away from Tommy, biting his lip until he finally turned back. “Of course, I was angry. She came with me.”

  Softly, Tommy asked, “Didn’t you want to find her? Maybe confront her?”

  Kincaid shook his head. “I knew she was still stuck on Wi
n. I didn’t have a chance against him.”

  Tommy wondered whether he would have accepted defeat so passively if it had happened to him. No, he realized. He would have gone after his date, even caused a scene, perhaps. Was he just more hotheaded than Kincaid? Or was Kincaid lying to him?

  “So, what did you do the remainder of the evening? With your date gone.”

  “I hung around with the rest of the group I’d come with. Danced with some of the other girls.”

  “Can you give me their names?”

  Kincaid’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth set in a tight grimace. “Hey, what is this? You think I had something to do with Carly’s death?”

  Tommy loved to get people rattled during his questioning. It often led to the most revealing information. He restrained a smile, then said casually, “Just following up on loose strands.” Tommy opened up his notepad and took out a pen. “So, how about those names now?”

  Kincaid stood up. Darts seemed to be flying from his dark-brown eyes. “It was years ago. I can’t remember everyone. Now, I’ve got to get to work before I’m late. Sorry, I can’t help you anymore.”

  Tommy stood up as well and held out his hand. “Is it okay if I come back when you have more time?”

  Kincaid shook his hand and smiled weakly. “I’ve told you everything I know. It’d just be a waste of time for you.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll learn something from my other interviews that will help jog your memory.”

  Kincaid reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Here’s my number. Next time, call first.”

  And with that, Tommy’s meeting was over.

  CHAPTER

  16

  Dani leaned back in her chair in the open-windowed restaurant overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. She took a sip of her pinot grigio, closed her eyes, and listened to the sound of the waves crashing over the sandy beach. She wasn’t yet ready to discuss the results of the day’s interviews.

  “I could go for this life,” Tommy said.