Dark Debts by Karen Hall Page A

into the computer and brought up the first citation. It was an article from Texas Monthly entitled “The Impact of Capital Punishment on the Families of Death Row Inmates.” It had been written by an SMU sociology professor, a Dr. Karl Wiedergott, who had interviewed fifty families of condemned men and women and compiled a study about their emotional and physiological reactions. Near the end of the article, Tallen Landry was identified as a convicted murderer who had been executed in Alabama. (What an irony, she thought, for a murderer to have such a lovely name.) The professor had interviewed some family friends, but said that members of the immediate family had refused to talk with anyone. Randa was about to exit the article when something in the next paragraph caught her eye. Tallen Landry was more specifically identified as the second of four sons from a working-class family in rural Georgia. Randa stared at the paper, amazed. Surely it was a coincidence? Landry wasn’t a particularly unusual name, and Georgia was not a small state. Still, if there was any connection at all, it would certainly shed some light on the workings of Cameron Landry’s mind.
    A week later, at the appointed time, she sat at a table at Musso & Frank Grill, poring over her notes and nervously chewing the ice from her water glass. She was surprised to see the maître d’ showing a tall guy in a brown leather jacket and black Ray-Bans over to her table. She had certainly not expected him to be on time. He smiled warmly and offered his hand ( “Hi, I’m Cam Landry. I’m not late, am I?”  ), then slid into the booth across from her. He didn’t look anything like she’d expected, although she didn’t know what she had expected. His hair was very dark brown, almost black, just long enough to look artistically unkempt. It had a lot of gray in it for a man his age (which, from the articles she’d read, she knew to be thirty-one). His face was perfectly shaped, with sharp features, and his skin looked as if it had never seen the light of day. And then he took off his sunglasses and she saw those eyes, and all other physical attributes were rendered unimportant.
    When they started to talk, she was amazed at how they found an instant rhythm, and it seemed to have nothing to do with their common heritage. By the time the food came, they were finishing each other’s sentences.
    The one thing he didn’t want to talk about was the content of his work. Whenever Randa tried to get into the material in any depth, Cam would quickly and adroitly change the subject. No wonder the articles she’d found had not gone beneath the surface.
    After dinner they ordered margaritas and swapped war stories from their careers. When it started to get late and he still hadn’t mentioned his family, she finally asked about them. He shrugged. “They’re all dead.”
    â€œWell, who were they when they were alive?”
    He shook his head. “A sorry bunch of people. Don’t waste your time.”
    â€œA lot of great writers have come from sorry bunches of people.”
    â€œYeah, well . . .” He looked away. “Actually, my mother was okay.” He seemed to be saying it to himself. “She just . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œShe thought she was very selfless, and maybe she was . . . but she put all her effort into maintaining her dignity in a horrible situation instead of trying to get out of the horrible situation, you know?” He looked away again. The energy had definitely shifted. Randa decided to go for it.
    â€œBy any chance, are you related to Tallen Landry?”
    He didn’t move, but she could see the muscles in his jaw go tense. Finally, without turning back to her, he said, “How did you know that?”
    â€œI came across an article. I saw that you were both from Georgia and both had three brothers, so I thought there