An Imperfect Process (32 page)

He tried to remember if he'd ever paid attention to a dried flower arrangement before. "These will brighten your office, but I'm a little surprised that you enjoy doing this. With your mother an artist, I would have thought you would prefer to work on something more... more sophisticated."

Val made a face. "I would if I could, but I have no artistic talent. I realized that early since Callie is so amazing. Not just her fabric art but drawing, painting, ceramics. You name it, she can do it. My friend Laurel is a born artist like Callie, and they've always gotten on like a house afire. It was a great disappointment to both my mother and me that I was a nonstarter creatively, but even a no-talent can put together a decent silk flower arrangement. It's fun and satisfies the need to make something pretty."

He recognized the underlying wistfulness in her voice. "You may not be at Callie's level—few people are—but you create wonderful, harmonious surroundings, not to mention being a knock-out dresser."

Val beamed. "What wonderful things you say. I think I'll keep you."

He'd like to think she meant that literally, but he knew a figure of speech when he heard one. "We all have our talents. Mechanical and computer things come naturally to me. You're a word child. While you didn't get your mother's artistic sense, you inherited your father's legal brain, and the law usually pays a lot better than art."

"True, but my artist mother has a lot more fun than my lawyer father." She resumed towing him toward the kitchen. "Would you like to unwind with a glass of chardonnay while I make the salad and the pasta for the shrimp scampi?"

"Please." He loved this unexpected domestic side of Val as much as he adored her delicious body and razor-sharp mind. He and Janice had always been so blasted busy that their social life was pretty much a matter of meeting somewhere for a late dinner, then going to his place or hers to spend the night. It was rare even to share coffee and bagels the next morning.

He smiled to himself as he thought that with a husband, a baby, and a dog, Janice was probably up to her ears in domesticity. She seemed happy with it, though. The last time they had talked had been a year or so ago, when he called to congratulate her on the release of her first computer game for preschoolers. At that time domesticity had seemed a dream beyond his grasp but maybe, if he wooed Val with sufficient patience, it would be possible to have the real, welcoming home he'd always longed for.

As Val poured and passed a glass of white wine, she said, "I got a good start on drafting Daniel's petition this morning."

"What happens when it's ready to go?"

"I'll deliver copies to the state's attorney's office and to the circuit court judge who tried Daniel originally, since he's still on the bench. Needless to say, it will be flagged as urgent." She shivered. "Only about three weeks now. It seems so... so strange to watch this deliberate countdown to death. Barbaric."

"Very." He sipped the chilled wine. "What will the judge do?"

"Hold a hearing. It can be either in open court or in his chambers. Based on his usual habits, probably Judge Giordano will opt for his chambers. I'll be there to argue the merits of the new evidence while the state's attorney's office will send someone to explain that the original sentence was correct and Daniel deserves to burn in hell." She frowned. "Cal Murphy says Giordano is fair but a tough-on-crime sort. He wouldn't be my first choice. His court is the logical place for us to start, though."

"Can I come to the hearing?"

"Maybe. It depends on what the judge wants. I'll ask to bring you and Kendra. Having non-lawyers there would be unusual, but not unheard of."

"Should Kendra go to the hearing? It will be painful."

Val gave him a look. "Don't be overprotective. Kendra is a strong, strong woman who has been fighting for Daniel for years. It's for her to decide whether or not she wants to come to a hearing, or to the execution, if it comes to that."

"You're probably right. I was just thinking of all the court proceedings I attended during Jeff's passage through the legal system." His hand tightened around the wineglass. "Gut-wrenching."

"No doubt," she said coolly. "Yet you had the choice to attend or stay away, and you chose to attend. The easy way isn't always the best."

"I suppose not." He sighed. "The whole clumsy apparatus of capital punishment is one long exercise in torture for everyone concerned. That's why I want it ended once and for all."

"I'm beginning to agree with you." She opened the refrigerator and removed a bowl of mixed salad greens. "Was your day productive?"

"Not half bad. In the afternoon I had to teach a class in Sheetrock installation and finishing for some kids at the community center, but in the morning I managed to run down an old cell mate of Omar Benson's."

"And...?" Val paused in tossing the salad.

"He says Benson several times boasted of killing a cop and getting clean away."

"Great! Will he talk on the record?"

"Since Benson is dead, yes. Omar was one mean dude. Everyone was scared of him when he was alive. The cell mate is out on parole and working as a mechanic now, and he doesn't like the idea of someone else dying for Omar's crime."

"Excellent. It's hearsay, but compelling hearsay, and the judge can consider it if he wants to." She finished tossing the salad and sprinkled a handful of cashew bits on top. "We not only have testimony that Daniel was elsewhere when Malloy was killed, but we've located the likely murderer. Do you think you can find some more people who might have heard Omar boasting? I'll be filing my petition at the end of the week, I hope, and the more supporting material we have, the better."

"I have leads on several more of Omar Benson's associates. A lot of the people who knew him well are dead, though." He shook his head again. "What a waste of human potential."

The cell phone on his belt rang as Val dropped a large handful of fettuccine into the pot of boiling water. "Sorry, I thought I'd turned this thing off," he said. "Do you mind if I answer?"

"No problem. Dinner is still a few minutes away." She moved into the dining room and began setting the table.

He clicked the cell phone button to answer the incoming call. "Hello, Rob here."

"Mr. Smith? This is Lucy Morrison."

Recognizing the soft voice of Joe Cady's sister, he said, "Hi. Are you checking up on Malcolm? He's doing fine. I took some photos today. When they're developed on Monday, I'll take some prints to the nursing home for Joe to see. I warn you, if you want that dog back, you'll have to act fast. By the end of next week, I won't be able to bear losing him. He's a great dog."

"I'm not calling about the dog." Lucy drew an audible breath. "Joe... Joe died this afternoon. I thought you'd want to know."

His levity vanished. "I'm so sorry. I knew he was very weak, but I didn't think... Not so soon." He thought of Joe Cady's dark, haunted eyes, and his willingness to set the record straight. "I hope the end was peaceful."

"It was. My brother and sister and I were all there. Everyone who remembered what he once was." Her voice broke. "It had been weeks since I visited him, so the night you came for the dog and told me he was failing, my sister and I went by. He was happy to see us. I took him some warm cornbread. He... he enjoyed getting it even though he couldn't swallow more than a mouthful.

"Before we left, we talked to the head nurse of his floor. This morning she called to say that the end was near. I... I think maybe Joe had been waiting to say good-bye to his family before he was ready to pass over."

Rob closed his eyes. "My brother did not 'go gentle into that good night.' I'm glad that Joe did."

"So am I, and I need to thank you for making it happen. I'd had my head in the sand, not wanting to deal with the pain. This way, a lot of healing was done at the end."

"If there's anything I can do..."

After a moment's thought, Lucy said, "Maybe you can send me some of those pictures of Malcolm, and I'll put them in the coffin. Joe surely did love that dog."

Rob promised to develop the pictures and drop them by Monday. After offering condolences again, he signed off.

Val was watching from the doorway to the dining room, her eyes enormous. "Joe Cady is gone?"

He nodded. "At least his family was with him."

"May he rest in peace, poor fellow."

A timer rang and she moved to the stove to take the fettuccine off the heat. As she poured it through a colander, she said, "I'm glad we got that videotape when we did, and sorry he won't be available if the state's attorney's office wants to interview him."

"You think it will make a difference in the petition?"

"I don't know. Probably not." Abandoning dinner for the moment, she crossed to Rob and hugged him hard.

"What a day it's been. You need more wine and a good dinner. And next time you come, bring Malcolm. It's time he met Damocles and Lilith."

That sounded distinctly domestic. He held her close, soothed by the softness of her body against his.

But he couldn't escape thoughts of dying brothers.

* * *

After much indecision, Kendra decided it was best no to let Daniel know she was bringing Jason to the SuperMax because he might refuse to meet them. If that happened, there might not be another chance. She had lived with the prospect of Daniel's death for so many years that the looming execution didn't seem quite real. Yet every now and then, the reality that he might be killed in cold blood slammed into her gut like a hammer.

As she and Jason went through the prison security routine, she saw the system as if for the first time. Like all visitors, Jason was sobered by the atmosphere of the prison, but he was in firm control of himself. As he submitted to being searched, she asked, "You sure you want to go through this?"

"I'm sure," he said tersely.

She was glad of that. No matter how difficult this visit was, it would be better than Jason learning later that his father had died before they could meet.

They reached the visiting room and Kendra sat in the chair by the phone while Jason quietly stood by the door. After about five minutes, the prisoner's door opened and Daniel stepped inside with his escort of two guards. He sat down, smiling at Kendra as he picked up the handset on his side of the barrier. "Wasn't expectin' you, sugar."

"I have a surprise for you." She half turned and gestured at Jason.

Daniel looked across the room. Since Jason wore his air force uniform, Daniel had probably vaguely registered his presence as a guard, but he instantly recognized his visitor when he looked into his son's face. "No! He shouldn't be here."

He jumped to his feet, knocking the chair over in his agitation. The guards instantly snapped into full alert mode.

"Don't go!" Expecting his reaction, Kendra held his gaze as she spoke swiftly. "Jason knows, Daniel, and he wants to meet you. Don't deny him the right to know his father." The words "for as long as you have left" hung unspoken in the air.

Daniel hesitated, his expression tormented but his eyes avid as he studied his son. "You broke your promise."

"I swear I didn't. By pure, weird coincidence, your old public defender has a niece in Jason's class at the academy. Murphy mentioned you and the case in an e-mail, she talked to Jason, and here he is." Her voice dropped. "Don't throw this chance away, Daniel. I think it was meant to be."

She glanced at her son. Face set, he stepped forward and took the handset, settling into the chair when she moved away. As the two men looked at each other through the plastic, she marveled at the similarities of face and build. They had identical anxious expressions, too.
Choose your words carefully. Jay, or he'll bolt, too ashamed to look you in the eye
.

"Hello." Jason swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. "It's... strange to discover that I have a second father."

"I can guess." Daniel's grip on the phone was pale-knuckled. "I never wanted you to see me like this."

"Mama says you're innocent, so any shame belongs to the State of Maryland." Jason's voice was stronger. "She also says maybe the sentence will be commuted."

Kendra saw one of the guards snort. Luckily, Jason missed that.

"Maybe. I'm not countin' on it." Daniel's voice was soft as a whisper. He reached toward his son, dropping his hand when it encountered the plastic. "I truly didn't want this. I've caused my family enough pain. But now that you're here, you are surely a sight for sore eyes. You were just a toddler the last time I saw you, splashin' your mama with water when you took a bath. I called you Little Bit."

A muscle jerked in Jason's jaw. "I've only known about you for a few days, yet you seem familiar," he said hesitantly. "Maybe part of me remembers from when I was a baby."

"I hope so. We had some good times together. You sure did love ridin' on my shoulder, and when I whirled you in the air. These days they say you shouldn't swing babies around like that, it might scramble their little brains, but you and I didn't know any better, and we sure did have fun." Daniel gave a rumbling chuckle. "Doesn't seem to have scrambled your brains, either. Maybe that's where you got your first taste of flyin'. But don't let's waste time talkin' about me. I want to hear about you. Tell me about the academy. I want to hear about your basketball, your classes, your military trainin', your friends. I want to hear it all."