Unintended Consequences (26 page)

“Of course.”

“You’ve got to promise me.”

“I promise you, George.”

At 3:45, a guard came to take Dani to Coates’s office.

“Your associate is on the phone. Do you want some privacy?”

“Yes, please.”

She was afraid to pick up the phone. The odds were small that the Supreme Court would stop this travesty, and she didn’t want to hear the words she dreaded. But she couldn’t avoid it.

“Melanie, have you heard something?”

Melanie’s voice was weak, as if the elasticity had been strained out of her vocal cords. “It’s bad news. They denied a stay and they denied cert.”
Certiorari
was the term used when the Supreme Court agreed to decide a case.

Dani’s legs shook. She’d been through this before with other inmates. It never got easier. “I’ll call the governor’s office. There’s still hope in that corner.”

She got off the phone and dialed Joe Guidry’s number.

“Joe, the Supremes have turned us down. Governor Timmons is the last hope to stop the execution of an innocent man.”

“Look, I’ve read the stuff you’ve sent me, and I agree there are doubts in this case. But she’s all about law and order. She needs something solid.”

“Give me one week. That’s all I’m asking for. One week and I’ll get you something solid.”

“Hold tight. I’ll go speak to her.”

The line was quiet for ten minutes before Joe came back. “One week and you need to produce the daughter. That’s the deal. If you don’t have Angelina Calhoun or a valid death certificate for her in one week, then she won’t do anything more for you. Understand?”

“Joe, she won’t regret this.”

“We’ll see. I’m faxing the stay over to the prison now.”

Dani hung up, elated. One more week. It was a lifetime.

C
HAPTER

29

I
f he
weren’t
so goddamn tense, he might have appreciated the beauty surrounding him. The red rock encasing the Colorado River as it snaked its way thousands of feet below truly was majestic. Maybe when this was over, he’d take his wife for a vacation here.

The website listed on the brochure told him exactly when and where Nancy’s trip would end: Marble Canyon. It even said where they’d spend their last night before being whisked to Las Vegas for their flights home: Marble Canyon Inn. He had arrived two days earlier and settled into a room at the same lodging. He’d used another name and showed a false driver’s license. It had been easy finding someone to make it, no questions asked. There wasn’t much to do while he waited for her, so he’d taken in some of the sights: a boat ride up Lake Powell, a hike along the north rim of the Grand Canyon, a visit to Navaho Bridge. All spectacular, he thought. Even so, his next move was always in the forefront of his mind. Nothing he saw or did could shake it from there. He was prepared to kill Nancy Ferguson.

He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Maybe she didn’t know anything. Or maybe she knew that Sunshine Harrington wasn’t the Calhouns’ daughter. That would be fine. Then she’d mosey on home from her adventure vacation and he’d go back to his wife. But if not, well, he’d had to clean up problems before. He wouldn’t shy away from it now.

Although he’d been away from home for five days now, he wasn’t cut off from what was happening back home. The hotel had a computer for guests, and each night he logged on to
The
News Dispatch
, Michigan City’s daily newspaper. And last night he’d seen it: George Calhoun’s execution had been stayed for seven days. He knew what that meant. They were waiting for Nancy to get back from her trip, waiting for her to lead them to Sunshine Harrington, waiting to determine if she was George Calhoun’s daughter. If that happened, if it turned out to be true, they’d start wondering whose body was in that grave. He couldn’t let that occur.

He sat in the hotel lobby at a seat near the front desk, a local newspaper held up to his face, waiting for Nancy’s arrival. The police badge was tucked into his jacket pocket and his nerves were in check. Shortly after three o’clock a bedraggled group of twelve arrived and began checking in. There were a family of four, three couples, and two single women. One woman looked to be in her twenties, the other considerably older. The older one must be Nancy, he thought. His guess was confirmed when she took her turn at the desk. “Nancy Ferguson,” she told the clerk, and he handed her a room-access card.

He carefully folded his newspaper and followed her group into the elevator. When she got off on the third floor, he followed, watching which room she entered, and continued down the corridor. He didn’t want to be seen talking to her. There couldn’t be anyone who might identify him later, when her body was found—if it came to that. After the corridor had cleared, he walked back to her room and knocked on the door.

“Ms. Ferguson?” He showed her his badge. “I’m a detective and I have a few questions about an ongoing investigation. May I come in?”

Nancy stood there in the open doorway, with her arms folded. “What investigation?”

“I’d prefer not to talk in the hallway.”

“Then I guess you’d better tell me what this is about.”

“It’s a murder investigation and it concerns Sunshine Harrington.”

Nancy’s hand flew to her mouth. “No! Has she been killed! Please tell me that’s not so.”

“No, no, she’s fine. But she may have information that will be helpful in connection with an old unsolved murder.”

Visibly relieved, Nancy invited him in. He closed the door behind him.

“How could Sunshine know anything about an old murder? She’s too young.”

He cleared his throat. “I understand you were close friends with her mother.”

Nancy nodded.

“Did Mrs. Harrington ever tell you how she came to raise Sunshine as her daughter?”

Nancy looked at the floor. “She was her brother’s daughter. He and his wife were killed in a car accident.”

“We know that’s not true. A man’s life is at stake now.” He raised his voice. “This isn’t a time to preserve secrets. If I learn that you’re lying to me, you’re guilty of obstruction of justice. That’s a felony. You’d be looking at serious jail time.”

After some hesitation, Nancy said, “She found Sunshine sitting in a chair at the Mayo Clinic. She was a very sick child, abandoned by her parents. Trudy couldn’t bear the thought of this little girl being shuffled through the foster-care system, so she took her home. She saved Sunshine’s life.”

“And where is Sunshine now?”

Nancy gave him Sunshine’s address. It was the last thing she ever did.

C
HAPTER

30

The Final Week

T
he phone rang in Tommy’s office and he picked it up immediately. Everyone was on edge this week, waiting—no, praying—for one of the various lines they had floating out there to pop up with the missing answers. “Tommy Noorland here.”

“Tommy, this is Dr. Jeffreys, from the Mayo Clinic.”

“Doc, please tell me you found something.”

“Yes, finally. Sorry it took so long, but it was buried in our closed-files room. I hope it’s not too late.”

“We got a reprieve. Just for one week. So tell me, is it the same girl?”

“There’s no way I could tell you that definitively without DNA testing, but I can tell you this: Their medical records are identical. Same type of leukemia, and the medical history entered into the charts is exactly what’s in the medical history you got from Angelina Calhoun’s doctor.”

If they’d been in the same room, Tommy would have gotten down on his hands and knees and kissed the doctor’s feet. “Doc, I owe you big time. You ever need anything from me, just call and it’s yours.”

“Just let me know how it turns out, okay?

“You got it, Doc.”

Tommy walked to Dani’s office.

“You’re smiling like a Cheshire cat, Tommy.”

“I just got word from Dr. Jeffreys. The medical histories match. They’ve got to be the same girl.”

Dani leaned back in her chair and frowned.

“I thought you’d be ecstatic.”

“I am. I just don’t think it’ll be enough for the governor. They need the girl. Or woman, now, I guess.”

“The mother’s friend, Nancy—she’ll be back from her trip soon. She’s got to know where the daughter is living. After all, somebody had to contact Sunshine when her mother died, and it was probably Nancy.”

“When is she due back?’

“Tomorrow.”

“And you left a message on her voicemail to call? In case the neighbor forgets?”

“All done.”

“Then we just have to wait.”

“We’ll find her, Dani,” Tommy said,

“I hope so.”

By Friday, Tommy still hadn’t heard from Nancy. Everyone in the office was on edge. Each ring of the phone on his desk felt like a jolt of electricity to his nerves. He fumed each time it turned out to be someone other than Nancy. He was of no use to anyone, including himself, and decided to get out of the office. He’d left his cell-phone number on the message to Nancy. She could reach him wherever he went.

Before he left, he made one more call, a call he’d made every day that week. When Cannon picked up the phone, Tommy said, “Hey, it’s me again. Any news?”

“Yeah, he got back late last night. I’m going over there today to speak to him.”

“Hank, I know I sound like a broken record, but what’s the harm in getting a judge to sign a court order? If it’s not done today, then it’ll be Monday before anything happens, and that’s too late to get DNA testing done.”

“The harm is what it’ll do to that family. They’ve suffered enough without having suspicion turned on them for their daughter’s disappearance. Before that happens, I want to make damn sure there’s good reason.”

“Isn’t the fingerprint enough of a reason?”

“Look, I’ve been working with that family for eighteen years. I’m the one who cleared them as suspects. I need to look Mickey in the face and ask him about it. I’ll know whether he’s lying to me. And in my book, a partial fingerprint showing up on a piece of paper could be something or nothing at all.”

Tommy knew he wouldn’t convince him otherwise. All week he’d tried, to no avail. “Just do me a favor and call me after you speak to him, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll do you that favor. One cop to another.”

Tommy let Bruce know he’d be out for the rest of the day and took the subway up to Central Park. He entered at 59th Street and began walking north. Joggers, bicyclists, and roller skaters of all sizes and ages scooted past him. The smell of summer was in the air, even though it wouldn’t officially arrive for another month. The fragrance of the spring flowers mixed with the warm air. Despite the hordes of people in the park, it was a place Tommy could go to ease the tension. And he was filled with tension.

He headed along the east side of the park to The Dene, an area with rolling hills and valleys. Carolina silverbell, a white flower shaped like a bell, was in bloom. The flower always reminded him of weddings. At 76th Street he started walking to the west side, stopping first at the Azalea Pond. The bird-watchers were out in full force, and so were the azaleas and barberry bush. He stopped to smell the California wild rose, with its delicate pink coloring. Friends were always surprised when they learned of his interest in flowers and gardening. Apparently, it didn’t match his image as a tough guy. “Tough guys can be tender too,” he’d tell them. Gardening relaxed him—digging up the dirt to plant the flowers, pulling the weeds so they didn’t crowd the plants. It satisfied him to work with his hands to bring something to life.

When he reached the area of the park known as the Shakespeare Garden, at West 79th Street, he climbed up the hill, found a bench, and sat down. The other spring flowers were in bloom: the yellow daffodils, day lilies, and crown imperial, the purple crocuses and irises, purple and yellow primrose, pink and red tulips, and the exotic-looking hellebore and knapweed. His wife had given him a book on flowers and plants one Father’s Day, and over time he’d learned to identify them.

He’d needed to get out of the office, get away from the pall that hung over everyone. The death penalty had always made sense to him. An eye for an eye—that’s what the Bible said. But bureaucracy seemed to get in the way of that simple principle. It wasn’t an eye for an eye when the person being executed was innocent. He’d never had to face this before at HIPP. Many clients were exonerated based on DNA evidence. Some were freed or got new trials for other reasons. And for some, HIPP’s involvement made no difference at all; the prisoner remained incarcerated or went on to be executed if it was a capital offense. In those cases, though, guilt or innocence hadn’t been so certain. People viewed things differently, and who was he to argue with that? But he had to agree with Dani on this: The little girl’s body found in the woods was not Angelina Calhoun, and that meant George did not murder his daughter. And unless Nancy Ferguson returned his call soon, it looked like an innocent man would die.

It was after six o’clock when Tommy returned to his home in Flatbush. He’d stopped at his favorite tavern for a few drinks first. The scotch had helped, as had the banter with Nick, his bartender and friend. The kids were already scattered, the two youngest playing Nintendo Wii on the television, the older ones out with friends.

“Job getting to you?” Patty, his wife, asked as she warmed up his dinner.

“This is a tough one.”

“You can’t take it personally.”

“No? Then who should take it personally? The governor? The judges? Don’t they all go to sleep at night saying they can’t take it personally? Maybe if I’d pushed harder I could have gotten Cannon to move on it. Maybe if I camped out at Nancy Ferguson’s doorstep I’d get an answer from her. So, yeah, I take it personally.”

Patty came over to Tommy and began massaging his neck. “You’re so tight,” she murmured.