Death Row (18 page)

"How would I know? Maybe I was a lousy kisser." He paused. "But I don't think that was it. I think..." His eyes wandered about the green expanse of the cemetery. "I think she was afraid of getting too close."

Huh. And I thought that was only men. "Why do you say that?"

"Do you know what happened to her family?"

"Of course."

"Well, she never got over it. Not in seven years. It was like after she lost everyone she had ever loved-she never wanted to love again. Wouldn't allow herself to love again."

A possibility, Baxter supposed. "Was she seeing anyone else?"

"Not that I know about. Scratch that. I'm certain. I think I was the only guy she went out with the whole seven years. As far as I could tell. And I saw her pretty regularly, when I worked at the organ clinic."

"You did? But you're not there now?"

"No. I'm self-employed now. I have a hobby that I managed to turn into a profitable business."

"So that's why you left the clinic?"

"Well... no." Wesley made a coughing sound, deep in his throat. "There was a misunderstanding with Dr. Palmetto. I was asked to leave."

"Care to tell me the nature of the misunderstanding?"

"Not unless I have to."

Baxter decided to let it go. For the moment, anyway. "So you left?"

"Yes. And I'm making twice now what I did then, thank you. But I missed seeing Erin every day. That was when I first got up the gumption to ask her out. After I left. I just missed her. We had worked closely together for four years. And I think she missed me, too."

"But not enough for another date?"

"No," Wesley said quietly. "I guess not."

"Where were you when she was killed?"

"At home, as far as I know."

"Witnesses?"

"I'm afraid I live alone. Housekeeper wasn't in."

Baxter nodded and made a few more notes. "Any idea what might've happened to her?"

Wesley suddenly seemed supremely uncomfortable. "I've... assumed she killed herself."

"Why would you assume that?"

"That's what it sounded like. In the papers. Gun still in her hand and all."

"Any other reasons?"

He pushed himself away from the tree. "She was a very unhappy young woman. Many of us at work tried to help. We talked to her, included her in after-work get-togethers. But there was always..." His face contracted, wrinkles outlining his confusion. "A barrier. Between her and the rest of the world. Something that prevented her from making contact."

"Any idea what that might be?"

He shook his head. "There was the tragedy, obviously. But I think there was more. I can't explain it, but-I think she had a secret. Something none of us knew. And it tormented her."

"Any idea what that secret might've been?"

Wesley turned away, staring off at the gravediggers who were finishing their work, burying Erin once and for always. "I wish to God I did. Because if I'd known, I might've been able to help her. And she needed someone to help her. More than anyone I've ever known. But as it was, I was useless." He turned away. "I was no help to her at all."

"So let me get this straight, counsel." Judge Derek leaned back in his black padded chair. "You're saying your client should be released from prison-because he didn't act alone?"

Christina pressed her fingertips against the podium. "He didn't act at all, your honor. He wasn't there. But my point is that the law enforcement version of what happened-upon which the conviction of Ray Goldman rested-is absolutely inaccurate. The crime has never really been investigated. Not thoroughly."

"But of course you have no proof."

"We are actively following up every-"

"With all due respect, counsel, this crime occurred over seven years ago. It's a little late."

"We have several new leads."

Derek shook his head. "Judicial decisions, at some point in time, must be granted finality. Imagine what would happen if I allowed every conviction to be overturned-or every punishment to be delayed-because seven years later someone comes up with a new theory."

Ben saw tiny beads of perspiration appearing on Christina's forehead. She was up against the wall, literally fighting for Ray's life-and she knew it. "Your honor, we could not possibly anticipate that a critical prosecution witness would recant her testimony, much less that she would die soon thereafter."

"Yes, but the problem is that all of this comes from the defense attorney. I can't make a ruling based on theories and investigations cooked up by lawyers."

"Sir, the police department is also investigating."

That caught his attention. "They are?"

"Yes. They have two homicide detectives working this case as we speak."

Jerry Weintraub rose. "Excuse me, your honor, but the AG's office has been in communication with the Tulsa PD. I believe those detectives are looking into the death of Erin Faulkner-not the slaughter of her family seven years ago."

"And we don't have any reason to believe the two are related, do we?" Judge Derek asked.

"It is certainly possible."

Ben noted the tightening of the jaw that signaled all too clearly that Derek was losing his patience.

Weintraub jumped back into the fray. "Your honor, Erin Faulkner's death appears to be a suicide, and although the police are required to investigate, nothing they've uncovered proves otherwise."

Derek looked at Christina harshly. "Is this true, counsel?"

Christina swallowed. "Your honor, if it was a clear-cut case, there would be no investigation."

"What's more," Weintraub added, "the death of Erin Faulkner was nothing like the hideous murders of the rest of her family seven years before. There was no torture, no mutilation, no sexual assault. No eye gouging. The weapon was a gun, not a knife."

"MOs could change over seven years," Christina said.

"The point," Weintraub continued, "is that there is absolutely no reason to believe a connection exists between the crime for which Raymond Goldman was convicted and the recent unfortunate death of one of the witnesses who testified against him."

"Your honor," Christina pleaded, "if there is any possibility-"

Derek shook his head. "I'm sorry, counsel, but I'm afraid you just don't have the goods."

"But your honor-"

"I have no choice but to rule-"

"Your honor,
please
!" Christina stepped away from the podium. "We're talking about a man's life here!"

"I am aware of that, counsel. Nonetheless, we must show due respect to the rulings of the state courts."

"Habeas corpus relief doesn't exist to show respect to the state courts. Pretty much the exact opposite."

"Counsel, you are not helping yourself. Or your client."

"Furthermore, your honor, if you refuse to use the powers that have been granted to you, you show disrespect to the Constitution and the entire federal judiciary."

Derek bobbed forward, as if bouncing up on his toes. "Counsel, you go too far."

"I mean, what's the point of having federal judges, totally independent and appointed for life, if they're too cowardly to intervene to prevent injustice?"

"Counsel!" Derek rose to his feet, visibly trembling. "Maybe this is how your cocounsel has taught you to behave in the courtroom, but I can assure you that I will not tolerate it!" He pointed the gavel in her direction. "Consider yourself sanctioned. You may deposit a check for five hundred dollars with the clerk of the court on your way out of the building."

Christina was unrepentant. "I'd pay five hundred thousand dollars if it would prevent the warden in McAlester from executing an innocent man."

"Ms. McCall!" Derek's voice boomed across the room. He swiveled his gavel around in Ben's direction. "Why is it I only have these problems when that man is in the courtroom?"

"She's just doing her job," Ben said quietly.

Derek was seething, practically foaming at the mouth. "I've already fired you, Kincaid. Maybe I should finish the job and disbar you as well."

Ben held his tongue. He knew the best thing he could do for Ray now was to keep as low a profile as possible.

"Your honor." Christina's voice was quieter, but no less insistent. "At the very least, give us more time. Let us-and the police-continue to investigate. That's all we ask. Just stop Ray Goldman's hourglass while it still has a few grains of sand left in it."

"The man has been on death row, at the taxpayers' expense, for seven years. I will not delay his execution date with no better cause than you have given me." He slowly lowered himself back into his chair. "I will, however, continue this hearing to a later date."

Christina's lips parted. She and Ben exchanged a quick and amazed look.

"I should simply deny the petition and end this protracted case. But since the law enforcement community is still investigating a matter that might have some bearing on this case, however slight, against my better judgment I will continue this matter to next week. We will reconvene, and I will expect to be told what, if anything, you've learned. I will make my final ruling at the time. And I do mean final."

Derek lifted his gavel and rapped it against his desk. "This hearing is adjourned. Now get the hell out of my courtroom. Both of you!"

Sheila Knight was stunning. Mike was not one much given to hyperbole, particularly when it came to women. His mother had been lovely, judging from the pictures he'd seen. His ex-wife, Julia, had been drop-dead gorgeous-when she wasn't drowning her sorrows in potato chips. But the woman who stood before him now was absolutely stunning. Her dark hair was a mess, her face was streaked with red, her black dress was magnificently unflattering-and she was stunning, just the same.

"I loved Erin so much," she said, her voice quavering. "I loved her like a sister. Like a mother almost."

"You can't be much older than she was," Mike said gently.

"No, I'm not. But Erin was one of those people who need someone to take care of them. Even before the tragedy with her family. And I tried to be what she needed."

"You knew her even before the deaths?"

Sheila nodded, wiping her nose. "We met in junior high school. Hit it off almost immediately. She was not an outgoing type and neither was I. We didn't care who was hot and who was not. We didn't go to football games and we couldn't care less about the pep squad. We were a good pair."

"So you were still her friend when...?"

"When it happened. Yes. God, I can't tell you what that was like. Horrible. Horrible."

"I'm sure."

"I mean, I knew those people, every one of them. I'd played Monopoly with the whole family. I'd even sat for the baby."

"You must've been a great comfort to Erin."

"Not really." She removed a Kleenex from her purse and dabbed her eyes. "I wanted to be. I stayed with her when she was in the hospital. I came to physical therapy with her, when she was learning to walk again, with the cane. Something had happened to her. Something..." She shook her head. "I don't know. But something had changed."

"You continued to be her friend, though?"

"I tried. We became more distant, after we got out of high school. We both went to OU, but somehow, we never saw each other. Until we both came back to Tulsa."

"And you resumed your friendship?"

"Pretty much so. We'd put down a lot of miles together, and that meant something. We got along well."

"But not always?"

Her eyes darted downward. "No one gets along all the time."

True enough. But Mike couldn't let it go with that. "Were there problems?"

"Nothing serious. I thought at times she might be... jealous of me."

"Why?"

"Well, I had a much more developed social life. I had a boyfriend. I wasn't seeing a shrink. And didn't need to be. She, on the other hand, was all but a hermit. Till she started working at the organ clinic."

Mike thought he detected a subtle change in her eyes. "What did you think of that job?"

"I thought it was spooky. I still do. Being around all those body parts. Trafficking in organs. Counseling distraught families and dying children. Not that their work isn't important. I understand the value. But I wouldn't want to do it."

"But Erin did."

"Right."

"Dr. Palmetto seemed to think that the job was helping her get over the horror of what happened to her family."

"Did he? Huh." Again the subtle variation in her expression, her voice. "Well then."

"You don't agree?"

Sheila shrugged.

"You don't much like Dr. Palmetto, do you?"

She thought a long time before answering. "It's not that I don't like him. Exactly. It's that I don't trust him."

"Why?"

"I don't know. There's nothing concrete. It's just a feeling, I guess."

"Did Erin express any reservations about him?"

"Not to me. If anything, I wondered if she might not have a little crush on him. You know, the young girl falls for the handsome doctor. Soap-opera stuff. I thought that might be the real reason she was hanging around."

"Was she getting any help? With her problems?"

"As in shrink? Yeah, a woman. Dr. Hayley Bennett. Don't know how Erin met her. Never seemed to help. She was seeing another doctor-"

"Yes?"

"Kinda strange, actually. But I guess that's what happens. When people can't get the answers they want from conventional medicine, they turn to the weird stuff."

Mike frowned. He didn't like the sound of this at all. "I'd like that doctor's name, too, please. If you don't mind."

"Sure."

"When was the last time you saw Erin?"

"The day before she died. She went out to McAlester for the Goldman execution. I went with her."