Beyond Innocence (11 page)

“Dish. What was it like meeting with the family of a murderer? Did I guess right, the guy’s a murderer, right?”

Melinda was goofing, and Cory knew it, but her words stung. She didn’t like hearing Serena’s brother reduced to “murderer” and Serena as the “murderer’s sister.” She didn’t know anything about Eric beyond what Serena had told her, but she knew Serena’s layers went deep.

She missed her. Silly, really. How could she miss a person she’d only known for a day?

But it had been a long day, full of disclosures and confidences. She and Serena had talked for hours before they parted, and Cory had hung on to the hope they’d talk again. They had shared more in that single day than she’d shared with Julie during the whole of their relationship. She and Julie barely discussed anything that wasn’t related to the cases they’d worked and which hotel would be good for their next meeting. Naked, but never really intimate. She’d felt more intimate with Serena in the few hours they’d spent together than she’d ever felt with Julie.

Cory jerked back to the present when Melinda snapped her fingers under her nose. “Hey, where’d you go? You’re missing this wonderful plate of calamari, and I’m not waiting on you.”

“Just thinking. You know, the woman I met wasn’t what you would’ve expected.”

“I’m sure.”

“No, really. Her brother’s on death row for murder. Looking at his rap sheet, you’d think he’s a piece of shit. Graduated from petty crimes to robbery to rape and murder. I don’t know him at all, but I met his sister and she seems perfectly normal.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“Well, I do know they were separated when they were young. Druggie mom, both kids went into foster care. Serena turned out great. Eric’s sitting on death row.”

“Serena, huh?” Melinda put down her fork and stared Cory down.

“What’s with the tone?”

“Nothing. Just the way you said her name. All gentle and sweet. She’s the sister of the murderer, right?”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I don’t know where to begin. She’s the sister of a guy on death row. The clinic’s trying to prove he doesn’t belong there. I didn’t say her name any particular way, I was just trying to tell you she’s nothing like I would have imagined.”

“Of course she’s not. You’re used to dealing with the more obvious victims, not the ones who get burned by your scorch-the-earth prosecutions.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Melinda speared a circle of calamari and peppers and dragged the forkful through the tasty sauce. “Maybe it’s as simple as you’ve never considered the other side before. Maybe that’s why working at the clinic may be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I think you’ve lost your mind. Pushing files and biding my time isn’t going to change my life one bit.” Cory grabbed a roll from the bread basket and buttered it fiercely. “I was only trying to tell you I thought I’d get to see a little more action. I don’t need a lecture from a bleeding heart liberal who makes more money than most CEOs.”

“Settle down. You’ll ruin my appetite. Let’s agree to table the subject. You only have five weeks to go and then you’ll be back to locking people up and throwing away the key.”

Cory bit back a retort. She didn’t need to defend her career. Melinda had given her a hard time about it since the first internship in college, but the teasing had never bothered her before. As Serena’s face flashed in her mind, she tried not to think about why it was bothering her now.
You’ve never hosted a defendant’s sister at your house before.
Still, it shouldn’t matter. Serena seemed perfectly normal. Better than normal; she intrigued Cory. If they’d met under other circumstances, she’d consider asking Serena out. But they hadn’t. Serena’s brother was a killer. Accused killer, anyway, and definitely not Cory’s problem, which meant Cory and Serena’s interaction was over. For the best. At least she was willing to pretend that was the case.

“You like her.”

Damn Melinda. Mind reader. “I’ll tell you what I like. I like this calamari.” Cory stabbed a forkful. “I’ve been brown-bagging it, and I’m tired of peanut butter sandwiches.”

“What, no jelly? You’ll never be a gourmet if you forego the little extras.” Melinda abruptly switched topics. “You do like her. I recognize the goofy look on your face. Amazing how you ever function in the courtroom since you have no poker face.”

“My poker face is fine.” Cory knew she wasn’t off the hook just because Melinda was up to her usual abrupt changes in topic. “I do like her, but not in the way you think. She’s a nice person, that’s all.”

“Nice, huh? Nice is good. At least it’s a step in the right direction. Julie? She’s not so nice.”

“We’re not going to talk about her.”

“Which her? I’ve lost track.”

“Don’t be a pain the ass. Can’t we just eat and talk about mindless things?”

Melinda cocked her head and Cory put on her best pleading expression. “I suppose so, under one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I get the last bite of this amazing calamari.”

“Deal.” Cory sank back, relieved that at least she wouldn’t have to talk about Serena. She wasn’t sure how she was going to stop thinking about her, though.

Two hours later, Cory tapped her foot as Melinda drove them back to the clinic. Melinda reached over and slapped her thigh. “Quit that. You’re making me crazy.”

“And you’re making me late.”

“Are you punching a time clock? I thought you didn’t even like this place.”

“Jeez. You’re the one who got me this gig. Don’t you care what they think of me? Because I do. I need a clean report to get reinstated. You said so yourself.”

“Settle down. I don’t think being late from lunch is going to get you any demerits. I bet you haven’t taken a real lunch since you started. I bet they’ll cut you some slack. Besides, it looks like something more important than your tardiness is on their minds right now.” Melinda pointed out the window and Cory swung her head around. “What do you think’s going on?”

Whatever it was involved a hook and ladder and a paramedic truck. “Not a clue. Let me out here.”

Cory gave Melinda a quick hug and walked toward the bright red trucks. Instinctively, she reached into her pocket, but she quickly remembered she didn’t have a badge anymore. No way to flash her authority to those in uniform. She glanced around and spotted Paul standing with one of the paramedics. He looked up at her and waved her over.

He didn’t mince words. “Cory, Greg’s had a heart attack. I’m going to get his wife. She’s a schoolteacher, hard to reach by phone. Will you stick around and hold down the fort?”

Cory nodded. She didn’t know what “hold down the fort” meant, but in light of the emergency, she didn’t think it mattered. A second later, two paramedics rolled a gurney out the front door of the clinic. Even from several feet away, she could see Greg’s face was ashen, and the lines of his tight grimace spoke volumes. She stepped out of the way as they came toward her. As Paul leaned over and spoke to him, she wished there was something she could do. Hold down the fort seemed so trivial.

*

Serena stared at her desk and sighed. The four weeks since she’d returned home from Dallas had passed quickly. She’d done her best to focus on her work, but thoughts of Eric’s case pierced the surface of her consciousness daily. As did thoughts of Cory Lance.

Attraction. Betrayal. Arousal. Anger. In one day, Cory had evoked feelings she’d managed to suppress for years.

She’d dated some, but always cut ties when the other women starting using words like “relationship” and “commitment.” Focused on her education and career, she built a wall to keep any distractions at bay, and that wall blocked intense feelings from taking hold. Feelings that could distract, damage, and make her dependent. Her mother had spent her life, lost her life, being dependent on other people for drugs, for sex, for money.

She would never be like her mother. She’d made that vow when she was just a teenager, but she’d kept it all her life. Intense feelings were only distractions. Until she was sure she was independent enough, successful enough that she would never lose herself in someone else, she would stick to her resolution. She’d grown to like her life the way it was. Simple, easy. Loneliness had its benefits. She’d been convinced that was true. Until she met Cory.

The intercom interrupted her thoughts. “Serena, there’s a Paul Guthrie on line one for you.”

“Thanks, Nancy.” Serena took a deep breath and punched the line. “Hello, Mr. Guthrie.”

“Hi, Serena. Please, it’s just Paul.”

“Okay, Paul.” She paused. If it was good news, wouldn’t he just launch into it?

“I’ve got a couple of reasons for calling you today. Is this a good time to talk or would you rather call me back this evening when you get home?”

She braced herself. Good news didn’t need to wait for a convenient time. Might as well get it over with. “Now’s fine. Tell me.”

“You’re going to get a letter this week. It’s a standard form letter, but I wanted to give you a heads-up so you don’t worry too much when you read it.”

She couldn’t take it anymore. “Paul, I do better with bad news when it’s delivered fast.”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry, Serena. It’s from the warden at the Polunsky Unit, and it will tell you Eric’s execution date has been scheduled.”

She slumped in her chair. Knowing it was coming didn’t make the news easier to take. “When?”

“February twenty-seventh.”

A little more than three months away.

“But this is just the first notice.”

Her laugh was mirthless. “They send multiple notices? Like I’m going to forget the day my brother will be executed? I can’t wait for the final notice. As if I could pay a bill and a late fee and stop the whole process.”

“Sorry, I’m not being very artful with my explanation. Notice of the stay is pro forma once all the direct appeals have been exhausted, but we’ll file an application to stay the execution to give us time to file our final pleadings on Eric’s behalf. Skye has turned up some leads, and we’re hoping they will provide us with sufficient grounds to get a stay.”

“A stay meaning a delay only? No guarantee that the conviction will be overturned?”

“Baby steps. Right now a stay is the most important step. We convince a judge to stay the execution to give us time to develop evidence. Once we have what we need, we file a writ asking that the conviction be set aside or for a new trial.”

“Tell me something, Paul, and I want you to be brutally honest. What are the chances that Eric will get a new trial?”

“Serena, I’ve been honest with you from the beginning. I think we will get a stay, but I can’t be as optimistic about anything after that. It’s an uphill battle. The law favors finality, and the presumption is that Eric is guilty until we prove otherwise. I know you can appreciate how difficult that is.”

“I do. I worry about the toll this roller coaster will take on Eric.”

“I’ve worked a bunch of these cases. Believe me, Eric needs the hope of a new trial to get him through this time on death row. Giving up means he’ll be dead before he meets the needle.” Paul cleared his throat. “Sorry, that was pretty insensitive.”

“You don’t have to mince words with me. I’ve read all about the process. And don’t worry. I don’t plan to let Eric catch a glimpse of my pessimism. Greg seems like a sharp man. Hopefully, he can persuade some of those hang ’em high Texas judges to give Eric a second chance.”

“Well, that’s the other thing I called to talk to you about. Greg’s no longer working on Eric’s case. He had heart surgery last week, and he’ll be out recovering for the foreseeable future. His doctors expect him to have a full recovery, but unfortunately, we can’t wait for his return to move forward on Eric’s case.”

“Forgive me, Paul, but who is going to work on Eric’s case? I was there long enough to notice the few attorneys you do have on staff seem to be swamped. You have more files than you can handle, even with Greg there.”

“Cory Lance is taking over. You met her when you were here. She helped connect you with Skye, which I have to say was a great find.”

Serena felt the room spin. She struggled to find her voice. “Did you say Cory Lance is the attorney who’ll be working Eric’s case?”

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

The list of things that were wrong was long, but only one was appropriate to share with Paul. “Yes, something’s wrong. It’s my understanding that Cory is a prosecutor.”

“Who told you that?”

Serena held back. She didn’t want to drag Skye into this. And Skye really hadn’t told her much of anything. As she rolled the thought around, she realized she didn’t know any details about why Cory, a prosecutor, would be working for the clinic. “It doesn’t matter who told me. The only thing that matters is if it’s true. Why would you have a prosecutor working at your clinic?”

“Cory is associated with the Dallas County DA’s office. She’s volunteering her time with us. While she’s working here, she’s not working at the DA’s office, and she won’t be working on any cases she may have handled during her time as a prosecutor.”

“And she’s able to switch off her perspective, just like that?”

“Did you ever take debate in high school?”

“I didn’t spend a lot of time doing extracurricular activities.”

“Well, debate is classic training for law school. You learn how to argue both sides of an issue. That’s the primary skill of lawyers.”

“I don’t think my brother’s life can be distilled down to an ‘issue.’ Are you telling me that you could make an argument in favor of the death penalty?”

Paul cleared his throat, and Serena was certain he wished he’d never called. Finally, he responded. “I could. I wouldn’t, but I could.”

“But you wouldn’t believe it, would you?”

“No, but—”

“No buts. I want an attorney who believes in Eric’s case.”

“Cory is one of the finest litigators I know. She’ll do everything in her power for Eric. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t have assigned the case to her.”

Serena let several beats of silence pass between them. What were her choices? Have her parents mortgage their retirement for a man they’d never met so she could hire an attorney? The attorneys in the big firms with their fancy framed diplomas and designer suits didn’t seem half as committed to death penalty work as the rolled up sleeves attorneys who worked on scuffed desks. It boiled down to whether she trusted Paul or not. She shook her head. No. It boiled down to whether she trusted Cory, and that was a question she wasn’t prepared to answer.