the good it's ever going to do me, I should tear it up and flush it.
He stretched. He used to keep his body in shape through a combination of hard work on the job site and a regular gym regimen. Now he rigidly performed a series of push-ups and sit- ups every night. The small plastic mirror attached to the wall showed his red hair streaked with gray, his face, once ruddy from outdoor work, now a pasty prison pallor.
The daydream he allowed himself was that by some miracle he was free to go back to building houses. The oppressive confinement and constant noise in this place had given him visions of middle- class homes that would be sufficiently insulated to insure privacy, that would be filled with windows to let in the outdoors. He had loose-leaf books filled with designs.
Whenever Beth came to see him, something he had tried to discourage of late, he would show the latest ones to her, and they would talk about them as though he really would one day be able to go back to the job he had loved, building homes.
Only now he had to wonder, what would the world be like, and what would people be living in when he finally got out of this terrible place?
Kerry could tell it was going to be another late night. She had started reading the transcript immediately after Geoff left and resumed after Robin went to bed.
At nine-thirty, Grace Hoover phoned. "Jonathan's out at a meeting. I'm propped up in bed and felt like chatting. Is this a good time for you?"
"It's always a good time when it's you, Grace." Kerry meant it. In the fifteen years she had known Grace and Jonathan, she had watched Grace's physical decline. She had gone from using a cane to crutches, finally to a wheelchair, and from being ardently involved in social activities to being almost totally housebound. She did keep up with friends and entertained with frequent catered dinner parties, but as she told Kerry, "It's just gotten to be too much effort to go out."
Kerry had never heard Grace complain. "You do what you have to," she had said wryly when Kerry candidly told her how much she admired her courage.
But after a couple of minutes of familiar chatter, it became apparent that tonight there was a purpose to Grace's call. "Kerry, you had lunch with Jonathan today, and I'm going to be honest. He's worried."
Kerry listened as Grace reiterated Jonathan's concerns, concluding with, "Kerry, after twenty years in the state senate, Jonathan has a lot of power, but not enough to make the governor appoint you to a judgeship if you embarrass his chosen successor. Incidentally," she added, "Jonathan has no idea I'm calling yore"
He must have really vented to Grace, Kerry thought. I wonder what she would think if she could see what I'm doing now. Feeling evasive the entire time, Kerry did her best to assure Grace that she had no intention or desire to ruffle feathers. "But Grace, if it developed that Dr. Smith's testimony was false, I think that Frank Green would be admired and respected if he recommended to the court that Reardon be given a new trial. I don't think that the public would hold it against him that he had in good faith relied on the doctor's testimony. He had no reason to doubt him.
"And don't forget," she added, "I'm far from being convinced that justice was denied in the Reardon case. It's just that by coincidence I've stumbled on this one thing, and I can't live with myself if I don't follow through on it."
When the conversation ended, Kerry returned to the transcript. By the time she finally laid it down, she had filled pages with notes and questions.
The sweetheart roses: Was Skip Reardon lying when he said he didn't bring or send them? If he was telling the truth, if he didn't send them, then who did?
Dolly Bowles, the baby-sitter who had been on duty in the house across the street from the Reardon home the night of the murder: She claimed she saw a car in front of the Reardons' house at nine o'clock that night. But neighbors were having a party at the time, and a
He stretched. He used to keep his body in shape through a combination of hard work on the job site and a regular gym regimen. Now he rigidly performed a series of push-ups and sit- ups every night. The small plastic mirror attached to the wall showed his red hair streaked with gray, his face, once ruddy from outdoor work, now a pasty prison pallor.
The daydream he allowed himself was that by some miracle he was free to go back to building houses. The oppressive confinement and constant noise in this place had given him visions of middle- class homes that would be sufficiently insulated to insure privacy, that would be filled with windows to let in the outdoors. He had loose-leaf books filled with designs.
Whenever Beth came to see him, something he had tried to discourage of late, he would show the latest ones to her, and they would talk about them as though he really would one day be able to go back to the job he had loved, building homes.
Only now he had to wonder, what would the world be like, and what would people be living in when he finally got out of this terrible place?
Kerry could tell it was going to be another late night. She had started reading the transcript immediately after Geoff left and resumed after Robin went to bed.
At nine-thirty, Grace Hoover phoned. "Jonathan's out at a meeting. I'm propped up in bed and felt like chatting. Is this a good time for you?"
"It's always a good time when it's you, Grace." Kerry meant it. In the fifteen years she had known Grace and Jonathan, she had watched Grace's physical decline. She had gone from using a cane to crutches, finally to a wheelchair, and from being ardently involved in social activities to being almost totally housebound. She did keep up with friends and entertained with frequent catered dinner parties, but as she told Kerry, "It's just gotten to be too much effort to go out."
Kerry had never heard Grace complain. "You do what you have to," she had said wryly when Kerry candidly told her how much she admired her courage.
But after a couple of minutes of familiar chatter, it became apparent that tonight there was a purpose to Grace's call. "Kerry, you had lunch with Jonathan today, and I'm going to be honest. He's worried."
Kerry listened as Grace reiterated Jonathan's concerns, concluding with, "Kerry, after twenty years in the state senate, Jonathan has a lot of power, but not enough to make the governor appoint you to a judgeship if you embarrass his chosen successor. Incidentally," she added, "Jonathan has no idea I'm calling yore"
He must have really vented to Grace, Kerry thought. I wonder what she would think if she could see what I'm doing now. Feeling evasive the entire time, Kerry did her best to assure Grace that she had no intention or desire to ruffle feathers. "But Grace, if it developed that Dr. Smith's testimony was false, I think that Frank Green would be admired and respected if he recommended to the court that Reardon be given a new trial. I don't think that the public would hold it against him that he had in good faith relied on the doctor's testimony. He had no reason to doubt him.
"And don't forget," she added, "I'm far from being convinced that justice was denied in the Reardon case. It's just that by coincidence I've stumbled on this one thing, and I can't live with myself if I don't follow through on it."
When the conversation ended, Kerry returned to the transcript. By the time she finally laid it down, she had filled pages with notes and questions.
The sweetheart roses: Was Skip Reardon lying when he said he didn't bring or send them? If he was telling the truth, if he didn't send them, then who did?
Dolly Bowles, the baby-sitter who had been on duty in the house across the street from the Reardon home the night of the murder: She claimed she saw a car in front of the Reardons' house at nine o'clock that night. But neighbors were having a party at the time, and a
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