Rage of Angels (23 page)

It was four o’clock in the morning when Michael finally
walked Jennifer back to her suite. When they reached Jennifer’s door, Michael took her hand and said, “Good night. I just want you to know this has been the greatest night of my life.”

His words frightened Jennifer.

In Washington, Adam Warner’s popularity was growing. He was written up in the newspapers and magazines with increasing frequency. Adam started an investigation of ghetto schools, and headed a Senate committee that went to Moscow to meet with dissidents. There were newspaper photographs of his arrival at Sheremetyevo Airport, being greeted by unsmiling Russian officials. When Adam returned ten days later, the newspapers gave warm praise to the results of his trip.

The coverage kept expanding. The public wanted to read about Adam Warner and the media fed their appetite. Adam became the spearhead for reform in the Senate. He headed a committee to investigate conditions in federal penitentiaries, and he visited prisons around the country. He talked to the inmates and guards and wardens, and when his committee’s report was turned in, extensive reforms were begun.

In addition to the news magazines, women’s magazines ran articles about him. In
Cosmopolitan
, Jennifer saw a picture of Adam, Mary Beth and their little daughter, Samantha. Jennifer
sat by the fireplace in her bedroom and looked at the picture for a long, long time. Mary Beth was smiling into the camera, exuding sweet, warm southern charm. The daughter was a miniature of her mother. Jennifer turned to the picture of Adam. He looked tired. There were small lines around his eyes that had not been there before, and his sideburns were beginning to be tinged with gray. For a moment, Jennifer had the illusion that she was seeing the face of Joshua, grown up. The resemblance was uncanny. The photographer had had Adam turn directly into the camera, and it seemed to Jennifer that he was looking at her. She tried to read the expression in his eyes, and she wondered whether he ever thought about her.

Jennifer turned to look again at the photograph of Mary Beth and her daughter. Then she threw the magazine into the fireplace and watched it burn.

Adam Warner sat at the head of his dinner table, entertaining Stewart Needham and half a dozen other guests. Mary Beth sat at the other end of the table, making small talk with a senator from Oklahoma and his bejeweled wife. Washington had been like a stimulant to Mary Beth. She was in her element here. Because of Adam’s increasing importance, Mary Beth had become one of Washington’s top hostesses and she reveled in that position. The social side of Washington bored Adam, and he was glad to leave it to Mary Beth. She handled it well and he was grateful to her.

“In Washington,” Stewart Needham was saying, “more deals get made over dinner tables than in the hallowed halls of Congress.”

Adam looked around the table and wished that this evening were over. On the surface, everything was wonderful. Inside, everything was wrong. He was married to one woman and in love with another. He was locked into a marriage from which there was no escape. If Mary Beth had not become pregnant, Adam knew he would have gone ahead with the divorce. It
was too late now; he was committed. Mary Beth had given him a beautiful little daughter and he loved her, but it was impossible to get Jennifer out of his mind.

The wife of the governor was speaking to him.

“You’re so lucky, Adam. You have everything in the world a man could want, don’t you?”

Adam could not bring himself to answer.

The seasons came and went and they revolved around Joshua. He was the center of Jennifer’s world. She watched him grow and develop, day by day, and it was a never-ending wonder as he began to walk and talk and reason. His moods changed constantly and he was, in turn, wild and aggressive and shy and loving. He became upset when Jennifer had to leave him at night, and he was still afraid of the dark, so Jennifer always left a night light on for him.

When Joshua was two years old he was impossible, a typical “Terrible Two.” He was destructive and stubborn and violent. He loved to “fix” things. He broke Mrs. Mackey’s sewing machine, ruined the two television sets in the house and took Jennifer’s wristwatch apart. He mixed the salt with the sugar and fondled himself when he thought he was alone. Ken Bailey brought Jennifer a German shepherd puppy, Max, and Joshua bit it.

When Ken came to the house to visit, Joshua greeted him with, “Hi! Do you have a ding-dong? Can I see it?”

That year, Jennifer would gladly have given Joshua away to the first passing stranger.

At three, Joshua suddenly became an angel, gentle, affectionate and loving. He had the physical coordination of his father, and he loved doing things with his hands. He no longer broke things. He enjoyed playing outdoors, climbing and running and riding his tricycle.

Jennifer took him to the Bronx Zoo and to marionette plays. They walked along the beach and saw a festival of Marx Brothers movies in Manhattan, and had ice cream sodas afterward at Old Fashioned Mr. Jennings on the ninth floor of Bonwit Teller.

Joshua had become a companion. As a Mother’s Day gift, Joshua learned a favorite song of Jennifer’s father—
Shine On, Harvest Moon
—and sang it to Jennifer. It was the most touching moment of her life.

It’s true,
Jennifer thought,
that we do not inherit the world from our parents; we borrow it from our children.

Joshua had started nursery school and was enjoying it. At night when Jennifer came home, they would sit in front of the fireplace and read together. Jennifer would read
Trial Magazine
and
The Barrister
and Joshua would read his picture books. Jennifer would watch Joshua as he sprawled out on the floor, his brow knit in concentration, and she would suddenly be reminded of Adam. It was still like an open wound. She wondered where Adam was and what he was doing.

What he and Mary Beth and Samantha were doing.

Jennifer managed to keep her private and professional life separate, and the only link between the two was Ken Bailey.

He brought Joshua toys and books and played games with him and was, in a sense, a surrogate father.

One Sunday afternoon Jennifer and Ken stood near the tree house, watching Joshua climb up to it.

“Do you know what he needs?” Ken asked.

“No.”

“A father.” He turned to Jennifer. “His real father must be one prize shit.”

“Please don’t, Ken.”

“Sorry. It’s none of my business. That’s the past. It’s the future I’m concerned about. It isn’t natural for you to be living alone like—”

“I’m not alone. I have Joshua.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He took Jennifer in his arms and kissed her gently. “Oh, God damn it, Jennifer. I’m sorry…”

Michael Moretti had telephoned Jennifer a dozen times. She returned none of his calls. Once she thought she caught a glimpse of him sitting in the back of a courtroom where she was defending a case, but when she looked again he was gone.

Late one afternoon as Jennifer was getting ready to leave the office, Cynthia said, “There’s a Mr. Clark Holman on the phone.”

Jennifer hesitated, then said, “I’ll take it.”

Clark Holman was an attorney with the Legal Aid Society.

“Sorry to bother you, Jennifer,” he said, “but we have a case downtown that no one wants to touch, and I’d really appreciate it if you could help us out. I know how busy you are, but—”

“Who’s the defendant?”

“Jack Scanlon.”

The name registered instantly. It had been on the front pages of the newspapers for the past two days. Jack Scanlon had been arrested for kidnapping a four-year-old girl and holding her for ransom. He had been identified from a composite drawing the police had obtained from witnesses to the abduction.

“Why me, Clark?”

“Scanlon asked for you.”

Jennifer looked at the clock on the wall. She was going to be late for Joshua. “Where is he now?”

“At the Metropolitan Correctional Center.”

Jennifer made a quick decision. “I’ll go down and talk to him. Make the arrangements, will you?”

“Right. Thanks a million. I owe you one.”

Jennifer telephoned Mrs. Mackey. “I’m going to be a little late. Give Joshua his dinner and tell him to wait up for me.”

Ten minutes later, Jennifer was on her way downtown.

To Jennifer, kidnapping was the most vicious of all crimes, particularly the kidnapping of a helpless young child; but every accused person was entitled to a hearing no matter how terrible the crime. That was the foundation of the law: justice for the lowliest as well as the highest.

Jennifer identified herself to the guard at the reception desk and was taken to the Lawyers’ Visiting Room.

The guard said, “I’ll get Scanlon for you.”

A few minutes later a thin, aesthetic-looking man in his late thirties, with a blond beard and light blond hair was brought into the room. He looked almost Christlike.

He said, “Thank you for coming, Miss Parker.” His voice was soft and gentle. “Thank you for caring.”

“Sit down.”

He took a chair opposite Jennifer.

“You asked to see me?”

“Yes. Even though I think only God can help me. I’ve done a very foolish thing.”

She regarded him distastefully. “You call kidnapping a helpless little girl for ransom a ‘foolish thing’?”

“I didn’t kidnap Tammy for ransom.”

“Oh? Why
did
you kidnap her?”

There was a long silence before Jack Scanlon spoke. “My
wife, Evelyn, died in childbirth. I loved her more than anything in the world. If ever there was a saint on earth, it was that woman. Evelyn wasn’t a strong person. Our doctor advised her not to have a baby, but she didn’t listen.” He looked down at the floor in embarrassment. “It—it may be hard for you to understand, but she said she wanted it anyway, because it would be like having another part of me.”

How well Jennifer understood that.

Jack Scanlon had stopped speaking, his thoughts far away.

“So she had the baby?”

Jack Scanlon nodded. “They both died.” It was difficult for him to go on. “For a while, I—I thought I would…I didn’t want to go on living without her. I kept wondering what our child would have been like. I kept dreaming about how it would have been if they had lived. I kept trying to turn the clock back to the moment before Evelyn—” He stopped, his voice choked with pain. “I turned to the Bible and it saved my sanity.
Behold, I have set before you an open door which no one is able to shut.
Then, a few days ago, I saw a little girl playing on the street, and it was as though Evelyn had been reincarnated. She had her eyes, her hair. She looked up at me and smiled and I—I know it sounds crazy, but it was Evelyn smiling at me. I must have been out of my head. I thought to myself,
This is the daughter Evelyn would have had. This is our child.”

Jennifer could see his fingernails digging into his flesh.

“I know it was wrong, but I took her.” He looked up into Jennifer’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have harmed that child for anything in the world.”

Jennifer was studying him closely, listening for a false note. There was none. He was a man in agony.

“What about the ransom note?” Jennifer asked.

“I didn’t send a ransom note. The last thing in the world I cared about was money. I just wanted little Tammy.”

“Someone
sent the family a ransom note.”

“The police keep saying I sent it, but I didn’t.”

Jennifer sat there, trying to fit the pieces together. “Did the story of the kidnapping appear in the newspapers before or after you were picked up by the police?”

“Before. I remember wishing they’d stop writing about it. I wanted to go away with Tammy and I was afraid someone would stop us.”

“So anyone could have read about the kidnapping and tried to collect a ransom?”

Jack Scanlon twisted his hands helplessly. “I don’t know. All I know is I want to die.”

His pain was so obvious that Jennifer found herself moved by it. If he was telling the truth—and it was naked in his face—then he did not deserve to die for what he had done. He should be punished, yes, but not executed.

Jennifer made her decision. “I’m going to try to help you.”

He said quietly, “Thank you. I really don’t care anymore what happens to me.”

“I do.”

Jack Scanlon said, “I’m afraid I—I have no money to give you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I want you to tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Start from the beginning. Where were you born?”

“In North Dakota, thirty-five years ago. I was born on a farm. I guess you could call it a farm. It was a poor piece of land that nothing much wanted to grow on. We were poor. I left home when I was fifteen. I loved my mother, but I hated my father. I know the Bible says it’s wrong to speak evil of your parents, but he was a wicked man. He enjoyed whipping me.”

Jennifer could see his body tighten as he went on.

“I mean, he really enjoyed it. If I did the smallest thing he thought was wrong, he would whip me with a leather belt that had a big brass buckle on it. Then he’d make me get down on my knees and pray to God for forgiveness. For a long time I hated God as much as I hated my father.” He stopped, too filled with memories to speak.

“So you ran away from home?”

“Yes. I hitchhiked to Chicago. I didn’t have much schooling, but at home I used to read a lot. Whenever my father caught me, that was an excuse for another whipping. In Chicago, I got a job working in a factory. That’s where I met Evelyn. I cut my hand on a milling machine and they took me to the dispensary, and there she was. She was a practical nurse.” He smiled at Jennifer. “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. It took about two weeks before my hand was healed, and I went to her for a treatment every day. After that, we just kind of started going together. We talked about getting married, but the company lost a big order and I was laid off with the rest of the people in my department. That didn’t matter to Evelyn. We got married and she took care of me. That was the only thing we ever argued about. I was brought up to believe that a man should take care of a woman. I got a job driving a truck and the money was good. The only part I hated was that we were separated, sometimes for a week at a time. Outside of that, I was awfully happy. We were both happy. And then Evelyn got pregnant.”

A shudder ran through him. His hands began to tremble.

“Evelyn and our baby girl died.” Tears were running down his cheeks. “I don’t know why God did that. He must have had a reason, but I don’t know why.” He was rocking back and forth in his chair, unaware of what he was doing, his arms clasped in front of his chest, holding in his grief.
“I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go; I will counsel you.”

Jennifer thought,
This one the electric chair is not going to get!

“I’ll be back to see you tomorrow,” Jennifer promised him.

Bail had been set at two hundred thousand dollars. Jack Scanlon did not have the bond money and Jennifer had it put up for him. Scanlon was released from the Correctional Center and Jennifer found a small motel on the West Side for him to move into. She gave him a hundred dollars to tide him over.

“I don’t know how,” Jack Scanlon said, “but I’ll pay you back every cent. I’ll start looking for a job. I don’t care what it is. I’ll do anything.”

When Jennifer left him, he was searching through the want ads.

The federal prosecutor, Earl Osborne, was a large, heavyset man with a smooth round face and a deceptively bland manner. To Jennifer’s surprise, Robert Di Silva was in Osborne’s office.

“I heard you were taking on this case,” Di Silva said. “Nothing’s too dirty for you to handle, is it?”

Jennifer turned to Earl Osborne. “What’s he doing here? This is a federal case.”

Osborne replied, “Jack Scanlon took the girl away in her family’s car.”

“Auto theft, grand larceny,” Di Silva said.

Jennifer wondered if Di Silva would have been there if she were not involved. She turned back to Earl Osborne.

“I’d like to make a deal,” Jennifer said. “My client—”

Earl Osborne held up a hand. “Not a chance. We’re going all the way on this one.”

“There are circumstances—”

“You can tell us all about it at the preliminary.”

Di Silva was grinning at her.

“All right,” Jennifer said. “I’ll see you in court.”

Jack Scanlon found a job working at a service station on the West Side near his motel, and Jennifer stopped by to see him.

“The preliminary hearing is the day after tomorrow,” Jennifer informed him. “I’m going to try to get the government to agree to a plea bargain and plead you guilty to a lesser charge. You’ll have to serve some time, Jack, but I’ll try to see that it’s as short as possible.”

The gratitude in his face was reward enough.

At Jennifer’s suggestion, Jack Scanlon had bought a respectable suit to wear at the preliminary hearing. He had had his hair cut and his beard trimmed, and Jennifer was pleased with his appearance.

They went through the court formalities. District Attorney Di Silva was present. When Earl Osborne had presented his evidence and asked for an indictment, Judge Barnard turned to Jennifer.

“Is there anything you would like to say, Miss Parker?”

“There is, Your Honor. I’d like to save the government the cost of a trial. There are mitigating circumstances here that have not been brought out. I would like to plead my client guilty to a lesser charge.”

“No way,” Earl Osborne said. “The government will not agree to it.”

Jennifer turned to Judge Barnard. “Could we discuss this in Your Honor’s chambers?”

“Very well. I’ll set a date for the trial after I’ve heard what counsel has to say.”

Jennifer turned to Jack Scanlon, who was standing there, bewildered.

“You can go back to work,” Jennifer told him. “I’ll drop by and let you know what happened.”

He nodded and said quietly, “Thank you, Miss Parker.”

Jennifer watched him turn and leave the courtroom.

Jennifer, Earl Osborne, Robert Di Silva and Judge Barnard were seated in the judge’s chambers.

Osborne was saying to Jennifer, “I don’t know how you could even ask me to plea-bargain. Kidnapping for ransom is a capital offense. Your client is guilty and he’s going to pay for what he did.”

“Don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, Earl. Jack Scanlon had nothing to do with that ransom note.”

“Who you trying to kid? If it wasn’t for ransom, what the hell
was
it for?”

“I’ll tell you,” Jennifer said.

And she told them. She told them about the farm and the beatings and about Jack Scanlon falling in love with Evelyn and marrying her, and losing his wife and daughter in childbirth.

They listened in silence, and when Jennifer was finished, Robert Di Silva said, “So Jack Scanlon kidnapped the girl because it reminded him of the kid he would have had? And Jack Scanlon’s wife died in childbirth?”

“That’s right.” Jennifer turned to Judge Barnard. “Your Honor, I don’t think that’s the kind of man you execute.”

Di Silva said unexpectedly, “I agree with you.”

Jennifer looked at him in surprise.

Di Silva was pulling some papers out of a briefcase. “Let me ask you something,” he said. “How would you feel about executing
this
kind of man?” He began to read from a dossier. “Frank Jackson, age thirty-eight. Born in Nob Hill, San Francisco. Father was a doctor, mother a prominent socialite. At fourteen, Jackson got into drugs, ran away from home, picked up in Haight-Ashbury and returned to his parents. Three
months later Jackson broke into his father’s dispensary, stole all the drugs he could get his hands on and ran away. Picked up in Seattle for possession and selling, sent to a reformatory, released when he was eighteen, picked up one month later on a charge of armed robbery with intent to kill…”

Jennifer could feel her stomach tightening. “What does this have to do with Jack Scanlon?”

Earl Osborne gave her a frosty smile. “Jack Scanlon is Frank Jackson.”

“I don’t believe it!”

Di Silva said, “This yellow sheet came in from the FBI an hour ago. Jackson’s a con artist and a psychopathic liar. Over the last ten years he’s been arrested on charges ranging from pimping to arson to armed robbery. He did a stretch in Joliet. He’s never held a steady job and he’s never been married. Five years ago he was picked up by the FBI on a kidnapping charge. He kidnapped a three-year-old girl and sent a ransom note. The body of the little girl was found in a wooded area two months later. According to the coroner’s report, the body was partially decomposed, but there were visible signs of small knife cuts all over her body. She had been raped and sodomized.”

Jennifer felt suddenly ill.

“Jackson was acquitted on a technicality that some hotshot lawyer cooked up.” When Di Silva spoke again his voice was filled with contempt. “That the man you want walking around the streets?”

“May I see that dossier, please?”

Silently, Di Silva handed it to Jennifer and she began reading it. It was Jack Scanlon. There was no question about it. There was a police mug shot of him stapled to the yellow sheet. He had looked younger then and he had no beard, but there was no mistaking him. Jack Scanlon—Frank Jackson—had lied to her about everything. He had made up his life story and Jennifer had believed every word. He had been so
convincing that she had not even taken the trouble to have Ken Bailey check him out.