Two Wrongs

by Morgan Mandel



  DEDICATION

  Special thanks to my husband, Good Paul, who cooked his own meals and watched television alone many nights when I first worked on this book and also during the second round, while I got it ready for re-publication. Also, to my good friend, Jeanne Rybarcyzk, who introduced me to Pat White. If Pat had not taken me to my first Chicago-North RWA meeting, this book would not have been possible.

  Thanks also to Deb Rittle, Mary Micheff, Jennifer Stevenson, Laurie Brown and Christina Fiximer for their help and encouragement on this book.

  Thank you, Stephen Walker, for your expertise in designing the brand new cover for this re-release. Last, but not least, thank you, Libby McKinmer, my original editor, for your great editing job.

  TWO WRONGS

  By

  MORGAN MANDEL

  TWO WRONGS

  © December, 2011 by Mary A. Gruner as Morgan Mandel (2nd edition)

  © January, 2006 by Mary A. Gruner as Morgan Mandel (1st edition)

  Cover art licensed through Istock, Bigstock and designed by Stephen Walker of SR Walker Designs.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters in this book have no existence outside the author’s imagination and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

  TWO WRONGS

  By

  MORGAN MANDEL

  Prologue

  February 12, 1996 – Back when Marshall Field’s wasn’t Macy’s and texting wasn’t popular.

  “WHAT’S GOING ON down there?”

  Danny Callaway heard the question, but couldn’t answer. His brain froze in the cold February air as he stared at the broken rag doll that had once been his sister, Mary Alice.

  In his sixteen years he’d never witnessed death first-hand. Until now.

  Mary Alice’s still form lay sprawled against the alley’s cement. Her head stuck out at a crazy angle like the girl in the Exorcist movie.

  Hoping against hope, he checked for a pulse at her neck. Nothing. He tried her wrist, but got the same result.

  His mind was all jumbled. All he could think of were stupid things, like how he’d heard guys call Mary Alice a prude because she closed the top buttons on her blouse and never wore mini-skirts.

  She’d sure be embarrassed not to have anything on at all. Someone had to cover her up and make her look presentable. Maybe Mom could help.

  But how could he tell her? A sob tore through his throat. He clamped his mouth shut to keep the bile from rushing out.

  Through the shock and pain, one thing remained clear. Kevin would pay for this.

  Chapter One

  Danny

  THE TRIAL BEGAN, yet it couldn’t be happening. Mary Alice couldn’t be dead. It had been six months since Danny had discovered his sister’s still form on that cold February night, yet he still couldn’t believe he’d never see her again. She was family, a part of his life. It didn’t seem right being without her. If only she’d come back, but that was impossible.

  Slamming home that fact was the prosecutor, Bill Rosenberg, who held up a photo. “With the court’s permission, may I present Exhibit One, a picture taken at the crime scene?”

  No, Danny wanted to shout, knowing firsthand what the photo contained. His heart beat fast as the picture made its rounds. He clenched his fingers to keep from snatching it away. His sister’s memory was sacred, yet these people eyed her lying exposed and defenseless.

  He watched helplessly. Finally, the photograph reached the end of the jury box, where a frail, bent-over lady cupped it in her palm. Her eyes filled with tears. Danny blinked rapidly, reminding himself that men don’t cry. He turned his attention to his parents. Mom had no such compunctions. Her shoulders shook. Tears streamed down her face. Dad leaned over to comfort her.

  Watching their anguish made matters worse, but Danny wouldn’t cave in. He’d never break down in front of his sister’s killer. Stone-faced, he concentrated on what the prosecutor was saying. “I’d like to call Officer Dugan.”

  The officer testified that he’d been first on the scene.

  “Can you describe the position of the body?”

  ...the body. Danny swallowed hard at the image conjured up in his mind.

  The prosecutor bore on relentlessly, digging for details, inquiring about the state of rigor mortis, the head wounds, the color of Mary Alice’s lips. The image deepened.

  That’s my sister. She’s a person, not a thing, Danny wanted to shout.

  The subject was exhaustively pursued. The officer answered each question matter-of-factly. Easy for him. It wasn’t his sister he was talking about. Each new detail drove a fresh spike into Danny’s heart.

  It took forever for the line of questioning to change.

  “Officer Dugan, I understand you exercised a search warrant. What was it you found at the defendant’s home?”

  “Hair strands from the defendant’s brush, a book of matches, a pair of gym shoes...”

  The list was long. Dear God, let it be in there somewhere—the necessary ingredient to convict Kevin.

  “The items mentioned are State’s Exhibits One through Twenty. Thank you. That will be all.”

  For some inane reason, Danny’s attention drifted to the bald spot on the prosecutor’s head. The fluorescent light gleamed on it, casting an eerie glow, reminding Danny of how Otto Meyer’s porch light had shone down and illuminated Mary Alice’s still body.

  He shivered, lost in painful remembrance. He had to be strong. His sister counted on him. He would not break down. Staring straight ahead, he pretended not to understand the dreadful implications as the officer spoke about sexual assault.

  The prosecutor called up a forensic pathologist who verified his written reports about semen, torn tissue, and bruises. Did everyone have to hear this? As the questioning resumed, Danny tried to zone the man out, but couldn’t.

  A lab technician stepped up to the stand.

  “We examined blood samples extracted from Kevin Green’s shoe and found them to be O-negative,” the man said.

  “Is that Mr. Green’s blood type?” Rosenberg asked.

  “No. His blood tested B-negative.”

  “What about the victim’s?”

  “Mary Alice Callaway’s was O-negative.”

  “Thank you.”

  Up to this point, slick-haired Eric Dominski, the public defender, hadn’t said much. Suddenly his slim body jerked into high gear. Gesturing wildly, with arms outstretched, Dominski debated about the blood, saying Kevin could have walked by, stepped on it and not have committed the crime.

  “Wasn’t Mary Alice Callaway’s blood on her brother’s clothes? Didn’t he say he’d discovered her body? Could he be the one who killed her?” Dominski shot out.

  Danny glared at him. Rosenberg had warned him not to get rattled by the public defender. The guy was a grandstander, who, due to a backlog of cases, tended to ignore his homework and make up for it by trying to manipulate the jury’s emotions.

  Danny knew this, yet it was hard to keep calm when he was being accused of something so base.

  The prosecutor ignored the theatrics and fired back, mentioning that cortex pigment granules were found on the victim’s body. Danny frowned. What was he talking about?

  “Could you repeat that in layman’s terms?” Rosenberg asked.

  The man explained that pieces of hair seemingly identical to Kevin Green’s were picked up off the body.

  The public defender rolled his eyes, then asked if other hair types were found.

  “Yes, that of Danny Callaway, as well as Larry Murphy, the boyfriend.”

  With a smi
rk, Dominski pounced. “It could’ve been any of them. And since the DNA samples have conveniently disappeared out of the evidence room and the body has since been cremated, that leaves it all wide open, doesn’t it? No further questions.”

  Dominski was a sicko. Danny’s neck grew hot. His stomach churned like a runaway washing machine. He was no pervert. Mary Alice was his sister. He’d only found her, that’s all.

  Nosy Meyer had watched from the window when Danny had taken out the garbage. He knew. If only Meyer had been awake when the murder had taken place. Then Kevin wouldn’t look so smug.

  And what about Larry? Danny had never cared for the guy, but that was beside the point. Mary Alice’s boyfriend didn’t deserve to be fingered. He had to be ready to explode.

  As if to answer Danny’s questions, the prosecutor called up Larry Murphy. Larry’s face was pale and bathed in sweat as he approached the witness stand. When he got there, he sat at the edge of the chair, as if ready to bolt. He licked his lips and shifted his weight. Behind black-framed glasses, his eye movements darted back and forth between the prosecutor and the doorway. From the way he acted, anyone would think he was the one on trial.

  “Lawrence, can you recall what you and the victim did the day of the murder?”

  Choking out the words, Larry said that he and Mary Alice had discussed getting married after graduation. On the day in question they’d gotten carried away and ended up making love in the back seat of his car. Unfortunately, there would be no wedding.

  As he testified, his eyes shifted, never quite meeting the prosecutor’s, almost as if he were ashamed.

  The thought of his sister having sex with Larry, even though he was her boyfriend, was a little strange. Not long before her murder Danny had overheard Mary Alice tell Mom she’d definitely walk down the aisle as a virgin. Had she loved Larry enough to give in? It was so unlike the stubborn, old-fashioned sister he knew.

  Danny glanced at his father. The vein on his forehead had grown larger. Mary Alice had been his princess. He’d shielded her from everything, even taking out the garbage. The idea of his unwed daughter doing the dirty deed obviously didn’t sit well with him. Dad’s hands clenched and unclenched, like he wanted to strangle Larry.

  Before that could happen, Larry was excused. Danny followed him with his eyes, still trying to understand what Mary Alice had seen in him. Larry was short. His hair was stringy. He was creepy and not at all special. How could he have convinced Mary Alice to do it? Was it because he was an underdog? His sister had always had a weakness for lost causes.

  There was no time to dwell on it. Danny’s name was called next. It was his turn. He’d anticipated and dreaded this moment. As he brushed past his mother, she gave him a small smile of encouragement. He knew how much that gesture cost her.

  Everyone’s eyes were on him. On suddenly weak legs, Danny wobbled up to the wooden chair. After he was sworn in, he sank down, but immediately straightened up and planted his feet. This was important. He dare not blow it.

  Rosenberg began. “Danny, can you describe the relationship between your sister and the defendant?”

  “Well, Mary Alice had been going out with Larry Murphy since they were freshmen. Then this year, when they were seniors, Kevin Green started hanging around her too. She told me she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, since he was a new guy at school and all, and had this dyslexia problem.”

  Danny stared straight at Kevin. His green eyes looked wounded. He didn’t want everyone to know about his disability. Too bad. He hadn’t spared Mary Alice. There was no reason to feel sorry for him.

  The prosecutor continued. “Can you tell me, did you ever witness the defendant making threats to your sister?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please elaborate.”

  “On the day she was killed, I came back from school and found them shouting at each other in front of our apartment. Kevin was ordering Mary Alice to go to the Snowflake Prom with him. She told him she was going with Larry. Kevin said he’d see her dead first.”

  A loud gasp echoed through the courtroom. Danny hesitated.

  Rosenberg prompted, “Go on.”

  “I told him to lay off. She could go with whoever she wanted. He told me to butt out. Then old Otto Meyer from the first floor yelled that we were too loud and he’d call the cops. Kevin left.”

  “Thank you, Danny. As the court can see, the defendant has displayed ample motive for committing the crimes of which he’s been accused. Unfortunately, due to his infirmities, the first floor neighbor, Otto Meyer, cannot be present today to testify. I am introducing as Exhibit Number Five, the transcript of his deposition. Mr. Meyer has stated he heard the entire conversation among the now deceased, the defendant and Danny Callaway. He corroborates Danny Callaway’s testimony.”

  The district attorney paused. Danny knew what was coming next. They’d gone over it a million times. His heart lurched in anticipation.

  Rosenberg proceeded. “Now, Danny, I know this is painful, but can you please describe what happened later that evening.”

  Danny took a deep breath. He didn’t want to remember, but he had to. He must be brave. It was his duty. He began slowly, as if by delaying the process the outcome might be different.

  “Dad was still driving on his bus route. Mom and I were the only ones home. We thought Mary Alice was at her friend Donna’s house. When it got late, we weren’t worried, figuring they were tied up talking about prom stuff. Anyway, it was during the ten o’clock news that Mom made me take out the garbage. I took the back stairs to the alley.”

  The hard part was next. His throat closed up. He couldn’t talk about it. He just couldn’t.

  Rosenberg handed him a glass of water. “When you’re ready, please continue.”

  Danny swallowed hard. Dear God, he didn’t want to think about it. He forced himself. Pain ripped through his chest and head, making him want to bellow.

  He described step-by-terrible-step exactly what had happened. In a different lifetime, he’d rushed downstairs to take out the garbage, afraid he’d miss the basketball highlights.

  Once again he discovered his sister’s still form. He bent over to find her pulse, but there wasn’t one. His body trembled from shock and cold, just as before. He couldn’t think. To the accompaniment of Otto Meyer’s raving on about noise in the alley, he turned and ran up the stairs.

  After he’d finished the account, Danny felt as if he’d run a marathon. He was out of breath. The room spun. Vaguely he heard a murmur swell through the courtroom.

  “Thank you, Danny,” the prosecutor said, then sat down, abandoning Danny to the mercies of the public defender.

  Danny had almost managed to pull himself together when Eric Dominski leaned over the stand.

  “Danny, I sympathize with you. It had to have been devastating to find your sister like that.”

  The compassion in the man’s voice brought a fresh spate of tears to Danny’s blue eyes. He swiped them away with his hand. He had to be strong. He had to watch for tricks.

  The public defender continued. “Young man, it’s a terrible fact that your sister was brutally murdered. I agree that punishment must be meted to the wrongdoer. However, in achieving that end, we must exhibit caution. We must not inflict harm on an innocent party. Kevin Green is that innocent party.”

  Danny raised his eyebrows. Kevin deserved what he got.

  “You seem startled. Well, what I’m saying is, I don’t doubt that you witnessed an argument between Kevin Green and your sister. However, a spat over a prom date is no motive for raping and killing anyone. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Objection, leading the witness.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Let me rephrase that. Danny, is an argument over a prom a valid reason for killing someone?”

  “Maybe not for a normal person. Only for a monster like Kevin Green.”

  “Please answer the question yes or no, Danny.”

  If only he could wipe that s
mart-alecky look off of Dominski’s face.

  “No,” Danny spat out.

  Glancing past Dominski, Danny fastened his attention on the true object of his hatred. Kevin balefully returned his gaze. The evilness in the sea green eyes hovered like an obscene presence. Couldn’t the public defender sense it or didn’t he care?

  Dominski’s next words showed how oblivious he was. “Danny, you’re under duress. It’s understandable you’re not making sense. I wouldn’t think clearly either if she were my sister.

  “Get to the point, counsel,” the judge broke in, frowning.

  “Yes, Your Honor. Let me clarify things. The fight happening the same day as the murder was just a coincidence, nothing more. Someone with a far greater motive was at work here.”

  Rosenberg jumped up. “Objection. Conjecture.”

  “Your Honor, if I may exercise some leeway to prove my point?”

  “If it’s germane.”

  “Thank you.”

  The prosecutor turned back to Danny. “You attribute Kevin’s dyslexia as the reason your sister was kind to him. Instead, could it be she saw past his disability and knew he had more brains than anyone gave him credit for? Also, let me add, because Kevin is intelligent, wouldn’t he have known a rejection over a prom date is no reason to commit rape and murder?”

  Danny couldn’t contain his rage. The words spilled out. “You’re wrong,” he shouted. “His mind’s twisted. He killed my sister.”

  Judge Frederick banged the gavel. “I’ll have no outbursts in this court.”

  “No further questions.”

  Danny fumed in frustration.

  “Counselor, would you like to redirect?” the judge asked the district attorney.

  Rosenberg nodded. “Tell me, son, what’s it like being without your sister?”

  Danny had no time to prepare himself. The pain rushed out, filling his being. “It’s hell,” he gasped, before breaking into giant sobs.

  Rosenberg rested the State’s case.

  THE NEXT MORNING it was the defense’s turn. Dominski called up Kevin Green, who was so tall he dwarfed everyone in the room, except Danny. Otherwise, he appeared ordinary, with his well groomed, straight, sandy hair, his conservative tan suit and his pale blue oxford shirt. What gave him away was the vacant look in his eyes. Didn’t he have a conscience?

  Dominski glanced at the paper in his hand. “According to the coroner’s report, which is labeled defendant’s Exhibit Number One, the crime occurred between eight and ten the evening of Friday, February 12th, 1996. Mr. Green, can you tell me exactly where you were at that time?”

  “I was at home watching television. I was there all night.”

  “Do you have any witnesses to that effect?”

  “Yes. My Dad was with me.”

  “Then it’s obvious you couldn’t have committed the crimes alleged by the prosecutor.”

  As he nodded, Kevin’s face assumed a choirboy expression. Danny wanted to smack him in the mouth.

  “Were you so upset about not going to the prom with Mary Alice Callaway that you raped and murdered her?”

  “No. I didn’t even like her that much. Everyone knows I can get any girl I want.” He gave a short laugh. “The prom was no big deal anyway.”

  Liar! Kevin had been furious with Mary Alice. Danny darted a look at the jurors. Could they tell Kevin was acting? Their impassive faces gave nothing away.

  Rosenberg advanced. “Come now, Mr. Green, do you really expect us to believe you were at home all evening?”

  Eric Dominski jumped to his feet. “I object. Badgering the defendant.”

  “Objection sustained.”

  The prosecutor continued. “Tell me, Mr. Green, what programs did you watch?”

  Kevin mumbled, “I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.”

  “How convenient. The truth is you don’t remember because you weren’t there.”

  Dominski started to rise, but Rosenberg sped on. “Mr. Green, isn’t it true that on the evening in question, you waited alongside Mary Alice Callaway’s apartment building, dragged her into the alley, raped her, smashed her head into the ground and killed her?”

  “Objection!”

  “No!”

  Dominski and Kevin both shouted at once.

  Kevin’s face flushed scarlet. Sweat dripped from his forehead. “I didn’t do it,” he said.

  At that, Danny gripped the arms of his chair to keep from rising. He had to stay put. If a mistrial were called, Kevin could go free. He had to trust Rosenberg.

  “Let me ask you this, Mr. Green. How did Mary Alice Callaway’s blood get on your shoe? How did your hair get on her body?

  “I don’t know.” Kevin looked wildly at Dominski, who shook his head.

  “No further questions.”

  Danny clenched his fists as Kevin walked off the stand.

  The defense attorney called Kevin’s father, Derek Green. Looking a bit lost, he shuffled up. The frayed cuffs of his shirt sleeves stuck out from under his shrunken coat. He’d probably bought his clothes at a secondhand shop. Danny felt sorry for him. The man obviously didn’t own much. What’s worse, he had a murderer for a son. How did it feel to know that? Or did he believe Kevin was innocent?

  Dominski’s questioning resumed. “Mr. Green, were you at home with your son the entire evening of February 12th, 1996?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That’ll be all.”

  Rosenberg sidled up. “So, Mr. Green, no one was there except you and your son. Is that correct?”

  Derek Green nodded. A brief, sly look crossed his face. The man was hiding something. Danny’s pity for him fled.

  “Sir, you do realize you’re under oath. If I were to prove you were lying, you could be sentenced for perjury.”

  “Objection. Badgering.”

  “Sustained.”

  “Now Mr. Green, you’re a decent father and love your son, don’t you?”

  Derek blinked, then whispered, “Yes.”

  Bill Rosenberg withdrew a book of matches from the exhibits and placed it on the witness stand in front of Derek. “Do you love your son so much that you’d go to jail for him?”

  The man shrank away from the matchbook.

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Green? Does Exhibit Number Three look familiar?”

  Derek glanced sadly at his son, turned back again and nodded.

  “That’s right. It should. Officer Dugan found this matchbook in your apartment. As you’re aware, it’s from Big Sam’s Pub. Now, what if I were to say I can produce two witnesses who swear they saw you there the night of the murder? Would you still insist you’d stayed home?

  “All right, Mr. Green. Once more, I’d like to know. Were you away from home at any time that night?”

  “I guess I forgot.” Derek’s voice came out softly. “I did leave for a few drinks.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. What time were you gone?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “How convenient. Thank you. That will be all.”

  Kevin’s Dad stumbled off the stand, with his face set in a grimace.

  Danny glanced at Kevin who frowned and bit his lip. Eric Dominski’s mouth sagged. Danny smiled to himself. Rosenberg was right. Dominski had not done his homework.

  The public defender shrugged his shoulders and said, “The defense rests,” as if nothing had happened.

  Was he bluffing, or was his ego the size of a football field?

  In a solemn tone, the district attorney began his summation. “There you have it. The defendant, Kevin Green, as witnessed by the victim’s brother, announced his intent to kill Mary Alice Callaway. The motive has been established. Blood stains, hair strands, and clinical evidence point to the defendant’s guilt. Also, the defendant’s alibi was a fabrication. He claims he was at home with his father the night of the murder, yet his father wasn’t there the entire time and can’t vouch for him.

  “Not that it would
matter because Kevin Green was not at home that night. Instead, he was wreaking vengeance on Mary Alice Callaway, a hapless young woman who’d made the mistake of saying no to him. Mary Alice was never allowed to attend the prom she’d been looking forward to. She’ll never be able to do anything again because her life and her breath were snuffed out by the defendant, Kevin Green.

  “Folks, look closely at the defendant. On the outside he appears normal and decent, but peel off that civilized veneer and what emerges is a dangerous and vicious animal. The jury has no alternative but to find Kevin Green guilty of aggravated criminal sexual assault and the far greater crime of first degree murder.”

  Wow, the prosecutor sounded convincing. He had to win. Dominski couldn’t do better, could he?

  The public defender stood up to give it a shot. “Ladies and gentlemen, first, don’t be swayed by the heartrending photos of the victim. We all know what dastardly crimes were committed upon Mary Alice Callaway, but that doesn’t mean they were done by Kevin Green. I have proven the clinical evidence is far from conclusive.

  “Second, do not allow the prosecutor’s persuasive words to cloud your judgment. Kevin, an understandably frightened youth, enlisted his father’s services to produce a false alibi. That does not mean he committed the heinous acts of rape and murder for which he is charged. I repeat, he merely told a lie—nothing more, nothing less.

  “Third, he had no motive to rape or kill the victim. He did not do so.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this young man’s life is in your hands. I warn you to be absolutely certain of your verdict. If you mistakenly pronounce Kevin Green guilty, you’ll turn him into a victim. He’ll be convicted of rape and murder, while the actual perpetrator runs free. Kevin Green does not deserve to have his life ruined because of one small lie.”

  What hogwash. Of course Kevin did it. Lying was just another sin on the creep’s list of crimes. Stuck-up Dominski had a lot of nerve to stand up there and pretend Kevin was innocent.

  The judge reminded the jury of their instructions. Danny watched as the jurors filed out. Some frowned. Others shook their heads. Their confusion worried him. Were they gullible enough to believe Dominski’s words? Did they think Kevin was guilty only of lying?

  Larry Murphy watched also. His face looked sickly white, which was understandable. After all, in a few months he would have been Mary Alice’s husband. Like Danny, he probably wanted to murder Kevin.

  Danny looked back at his parents. Mom’s eyes were red, her mascara tear-smudged. Dad rubbed her hand, then spoke to Danny. “Well, son, it’ll be over soon, for good or bad.”

  He admired his Dad, who was a giant not only in size. He was a true man, never shirking from his duties, driving for hours on end with constant back pain to provide for his family. Someone he’d sacrificed for had been brutally murdered, yet he kept his composure.

  Danny could only follow his example. He sat stoically, even as the room’s air conditioning weakened and the temperature climbed. His shirt stuck to his back. Time dragged on.

  The suspense and heat wore at him. Had his story been convincing enough? Had the jurors believed him? They had to. It was the truth.

  What would they decide? During yesterday’s briefing, Rosenberg had explained the choices: assault, aggravated criminal sexual assault, first degree murder, second degree murder and manslaughter. If Kevin got first degree, he’d fry. The jury had to pick that.

  By the end of the afternoon, the jury had still not returned. Court recessed, then reconvened the next morning. The waiting continued into the afternoon. Danny sat uncomplaining, thinking of his sister, hoping her killer would not escape.

  Finally, he heard what he’d been listening for: the drumming sound of footsteps approaching. The door swung open. His heart thumped madly. Soon he’d know.

  With inscrutable expressions, the members of the jury filed into the box. What had they decided?

  Judge Frederick nodded to the man with the big nose. “Mr. Foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?”

  A hand clutched Danny’s windpipe as the paper moved from the judge to the court clerk. Judge Frederick said, “Would the defendant, Kevin Green, please rise.”

  Kevin stumbled upright. With a swagger, Dominski rose beside him.

  “Please read the verdict.”

  Through the loud roaring in his ears, Danny could barely make out the words, “We, the jury, find the defendant guilty of aggravated criminal sexual assault.”

  Mom gasped. Dad put his arm around her waist. The courtroom remained deathly still. What about the murder conviction?

  The clerk continued. “For the unlawful death of Mary Alice Callaway, we find the defendant guilty of second degree murder.”

  Danny’s heart plummeted. Second degree! There must be a mistake. It should be first degree. Someone should say something.

  No one did.

  An acrid taste filled his mouth. His entire body felt raw and battered, as if he’d been the one assaulted. He turned toward his parents. Dad’s features were etched in pain. Mom’s face was gray. The nightmare hammered itself home again. Mary Alice had died. So should Kevin. Danny wanted to scream.

  Larry Murphy looked relieved. The corners of his mouth were turned up, as if he were holding back a smile. Didn’t he understand? Kevin had been convicted, but he wouldn’t get the death penalty.

  Danny frowned and focused his eyes where they belonged. Flames of hatred darted into Kevin’s back.

  Kevin whirled. “I didn’t do it. Callaway, you motherfucker, this is your fault.”

  Before anyone could stop him, Kevin jumped over the railing and rushed at Danny. The bailiff dashed after him. Kevin swung his arm. Danny ducked, then stood rooted. Suddenly he couldn’t move.

  The sea green eyes bore into his. Kevin poked a finger into Danny’s chest. “I’ll get you for this, Callaway. When I’m through with you, you’ll wish you were dead instead of your sister.”

  That did it. Rage coursed through Danny’s veins. He punched his fist into Kevin’s gut. The bailiff lodged himself between them.

  Dad pulled Danny away. “That’s enough, son. You’re better than him. Don’t stoop to his level.”

  “But he killed Mary Alice.”

  “Harming him won’t bring her back. Remember, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  Danny tried to break free, but his father wouldn’t let him. Danny would not strike his father, who stood like a rock, though his eyes were wet and red. His mouth held the same bitter twist as before. He suffered, yet, as usual, he didn’t focus on himself.

  “Son, please have consideration for your mother. Hasn’t she been through enough?”

  Danny glanced at Mom. Her small frame had shrunk as she slumped in her seat. The sight was his undoing.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, not only apologizing for himself, but for the entire nightmare over which he had no control.

  Dad nodded and released him.

  Danny stumbled to his mother. With a pang, Danny reached down to grasp her shaking hands. How could he help? What should he say? Whatever came out wouldn’t be enough, but he had to try.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll manage somehow. Remember what you’ve always said. The good go to heaven. Mary Alice is already there, waiting for us.”

  Mom’s violet eyes were awash with tears. Her lips trembled. Danny’s words could never give Mom what she wanted. Nothing could bring Mary Alice back. He smiled in reassurance as ice froze his heart.