An Imperfect Process (36 page)

"He looks like a stone killer." Anne's mouth twisted into a thin, hard line. "May his soul rot in hell. Now sit down and tell me why you came out here. Not just to enlighten me, I'm sure."

Kendra sat. "I'm a paralegal now. My boss, Val Covington, agreed to see if she could help Daniel. You see the results, but this tape isn't enough for the justice system. This morning Val asked Frank Giordano, the original trial judge, to commute Daniel's sentence or at least postpone the execution until we could finish investigating Benson. Her petition was denied."

Anne's brows drew together. "Did Giordano see this DVD?"

"He did, but from his point of view, Daniel has had plenty of chances and it's time he was executed."

"But he's innocent!"

"That isn't always good enough." Kendra tried to keep bitterness from her voice. "I plan to go to the Sunpapers and raise hell. It would help if the widow of the murdered man said she believes the wrong man was convicted. Would you be willing to say that to a reporter if one called?"

Anne bit her hp, distress in her eyes. "I really don't want to rake all this up. It hurts too much."

"An innocent man's life is at stake."

The other woman bent her head and ran her fingers through her short, tousled curls. "You're right. As a good Catholic, I shouldn't really believe in capital punishment in the first place, though my parish priest granted me an unofficial dispensation on that after Jim was murdered. All right, if a reporter calls, I'll tell him that I've seen your evidence, and I found it convincing."

Kendra exhaled with relief. This could have gone either way. "Thanks so much, Mrs. Peterson. I know this won't be easy."

"Jim was a great believer in the truth." Anne blinked tears back. "Good luck in saving Mr. Monroe's life, Mrs. Brooks."

"Thank you. We're going to need all the luck we can get." Kendra stood. "The tape is a duplicate. Would you like to keep it and the photograph of Benson, maybe show it to your husband?"

"Please. Bob was a school friend of Jim's. He'll want to see justice done, too." Anne set the photo on the end table and rose to her feet. "Maybe we'll drink that champagne tonight. It's strange to think Jim's killer has been dead for so long. If I'd known when he died, I would have celebrated, but now it's just ashes."

"Ashes is what Omar Benson deserved." Kendra offered her hand. "Thanks again. You're a brave woman, Mrs. Peterson."

"I'm not. But don't most women do what must be done?" She gave a shaky smile as they shook hands.

Kendra drove back to Baltimore feeling a little hope. But only a little.

Chapter 25

Val and Rob returned to the office together. "After I change, I'll try to hunt down more of Omar Benson's associates," Rob said. "Is it okay if I leave Malcolm down here after I walk him?"

"Sure. I'll be glad of the company."

Rob gave her a light kiss, then headed up to his apartment. Val kept a couple of casual outfits in her office, so she swapped her tailored suit for an ankle-length skirt and loose knit top. Long hours of work were easier when she was comfortable.

First on the agenda was phoning Cal Murphy, who, amazingly, was even available. When she told him about the decision, he swore under his breath. "Damnation. Even though Giordano is a hard-liner, I thought you had a good shot at getting at least a short reprieve."

She rubbed the tight knot between her eyes. "Do you have time for me to pick your brain about strategies for the next round? Monroe can't afford the learning curve I'd need to figure out the protocol on this on my own."

"I'll make the time."

Val started taking hasty notes as Murphy rattled off suggestions. They were darned lucky that he was willing to lend his expertise.

In the middle of their conversation, Rob stopped by her office with Malcolm, both of them panting. He wore the kind of shabby garments that meant he'd be visiting some places that might be rather unsavory, especially for a white guy. She blew him a kiss, and a mental wish for his safety.

With his master gone, Malcolm ambled across the office and flopped under her desk. She paused in her note-taking to scratch his neck. He was a good dog. Maybe she should get an office cat to keep him company.

Cal ended his discussion of ways and means with, "Hope that helps. Let me know if I can do more."

"Believe me, I will," Val said. "My assistant, Kendra, intends to persuade the
Sun
to turn this into a media scandal. Will that help or hinder?"

"Judges are very touchy about being coerced, but if enough public heat can be generated, it could help. No one likes to think of innocent people being executed. Too threatening."

"If a reporter calls, would you be able to talk to him?"

"You'd get better mileage out of the guy who prosecuted this case. He's retired now and can say anything he wants. If he agrees there is grave doubt after seeing the statement, it would be a big plus for you." Cal hesitated. "But I'm doubtful that he's changed his mind. The lead prosecutor on this case was a real pit bull."

Val took down the retired prosecutor's name, thanked Cal again, then set to work. Technically she wouldn't be doing an appeal, which was a review of how a trial had been conducted. That had already been done in this case, and the trial had been accepted as fair and correct. Now she was working on collateral challenges, which were done after all appeals had been exhausted. They had new evidence; surely the higher state court judges wouldn't all be so pigheaded.

She went online to a legal database to research; she wrote and took notes, constantly aware that the minutes were ticking away Daniel's life. By the time Malcolm raised his head and nudged her calf with his long hound snout, it was dinner time.

With a sigh, she stood and stretched, then clipped on the dog's leash for a walk. The evening was quiet, the air summer hot and heavy. After the melodrama of the day, the streets were eerily quiet. Normal.

Back in the church, she refreshed Malcolm's water and food bowls, then descended to the basement kitchen to forage. She chose a small tin of chicken salad packaged with crackers. With a glass of milk, it was supper.

While waiting for coffee to brew, she climbed the stairs and drifted through the building. She halted in the door of the sanctuary and raised her gaze to the circular stained- glass window over the front door. Though stained glass had not been a part of the Quaker tradition in which she had been raised, the spiritual energy in this old church often reminded her of meetings.

Callie had been a pagan at heart, but she believed a child should be raised in a religion. Because she deeply admired Quaker values and integrity, she had chosen to take Val to the Stony Run Meeting. The meeting house was on the same campus as Friends School, where Val had been educated.

Though she hadn't attended a meeting for almost two decades, the Quaker passion for justice had been bred into her bones. That passion was one of her reasons for choosing the law as a career. More and more, she was seeing how much it was behind her decision to open her own office.

The rule of law was at the heart of civilized values, and injustice outraged her. It was an interesting combination of traits inherited from both Callie and Brad. She turned away from the stained-glass window, on the verge of tears because the knowledge that she was failing Daniel was breaking her heart

Sinking into a chair, she closed her eyes and for the first time in many years began to pray.
Please let justice be done for the sake of Daniel, for those who love him, and for our society, which is tragically diminished by the murder of innocents. And, if it be thy will, help me develop the strength and wisdom to do work that matters always rather than settling for prosperity and shallow approval.

Though she tried to still her mind into Quaker silence, it was impossible. Too many strategies and anxieties ricocheted around her mind. With a sigh, she rose and returned to her office. As she entered the room, her gaze fell on the handsome silk flower bouquet that now graced her credenza. She and Lyssie had spent a second afternoon making arrangements. Next Saturday would be wreaths, and then maybe they would consider other kinds of crafts.

Val touched the attractively worn brass vase that held the bouquet. The arrangement was Lyssie's work. Not only was the girl a natural storyteller but she had a good feeling for design, color, and texture. After a mere two Saturday afternoons she was beginning to open up with Val. Occasionally she laughed now, and she was beginning to develop confidence in her creativity.

Val smiled a little. In a couple more years, her little sister would be wearing all black and pining to move to Greenwich Village. At least this relationship was developing satisfactorily even if Daniel's situation was critical.

Pouring a mug of coffee, she settled in front of her computer again. She should be good for at least three or four more hours before her concentration burned out.

She worked until Rob's return a little after midnight. Malcolm noticed first. Hearing his new master's footsteps, the hound rose and galumphed across Val's office, meeting Rob in the doorway.

"Hi, old boy. How's it hangin'?" Rob knelt to give Malcolm a good double ear scratch before rising to greet Val.

She went straight into his arms, feeling every particle of the fatigue she had been keeping at bay through sheer willpower. What a wonderful, warm, comforting body and warm, comforting spirit he had. Her eyes drifted shut. "Did you find anything useful?"

"I located another man who remembered Omar Benson boasting about killing a cop, but he'd make a lousy witness. Shifty and mostly brain-fried. Joe Cady looked like a pillar of the community by comparison."

"Still, it's another weight on our side of the scales even if he is a sleaze."

"I suppose. He didn't have any insights about the long lost murder weapon." Rob massaged her knotted shoulders with one large hand. "How are you doing?"

She shrugged without stirring from her comfortable position in his arms. "I'm drafting a new petition for the Maryland Court of Appeals. When that's done, I'll start on a petition to the Supreme Court for a writ of
certiorari
, meaning a request that they hear the case if Maryland turns us down, but that's a really long shot. This Supreme Court is a conservative one, and there simply aren't any compelling constitutional questions to give us traction with them."

He raised her face for a kiss. Even when she was mentally and physically drained, he could rouse her. She began to come alive, kissing him back with increasing interest.

He ended the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. "With so much going wrong, I feel a powerful desire to build on what's good and true. Let's get married, Val."

Her nerves jumped in a spasm of shock. "Married? It's way too soon to think about that!"

"You know me better than anyone else, and I feel as if I know you pretty well." Taking her hand, he sat on the sofa and pulled her down beside him. "Granted we've been together for less than three months, but it's been intense since we're working together as well as dating. How much better do we need to know each other? Since you don't want to live together, I think it's time to at least put the idea of marriage on the negotiating table."

She stared into his quartz-clear eyes and realized that he was dead serious. Heart hammering, she rose and began pacing. "I believe that the traditional response is, 'But sir, this is so sudden!'"

"Is it?" He watched her like one of her cats eying a chipmunk. "I've been serious about you since the beginning, but I've been trying to keep my feelings under control so I won't send you skittering off.
^."

He did know her pretty well, because she was definitely unnerved by his declaration. Maybe if she had been more receptive to the idea of living together, he wouldn't be brandishing marriage like a whip now. "Sorry about the skittishness. I've never been proposed to before."

His brows arched. "Never? With your looks and charm and active dating history, no one ever asked to marry you?"

"Not seriously."

"Not seriously? Or you wouldn't let it become serious?" He leaned forward on the sofa, elbows on knees and hands clasped between. "What's wrong, Val? Is it me, or marriage in general?"