face.
“Prison’s tough, Dana. It can be brutal on men used to the mean streets. It sure as hell’s not for a boy raised with a silver spoon in his mouth. That fact made Reece a target from day one, despite his size. Bad guys can smell fear like bloodhounds, and they don’t miss a chance to swoop down and dig in their claws. Later on, much later, Reece saved Vance, but he almost died doing it, if you’ve seen the scar down the side of his torso. I haven’t, but I heard about it.”
Dana couldn’t slow the drumbeat in her chest. “I’ve seen it.”
Jeraldine ordered another round of drinks. “I persisted, finally proving the crime scene had been contaminated, thanks to a retired cop who’d kept his mouth shut for fear of bringing trouble to his friends in blue. His silence helped convict Reece. He really believed Reece guilty, so he didn’t have too much trouble with his conscience. They had no physical evidence other than the semen, no weapon, so the prosecutor said Reece had served enough time and refused to retry him. A judge dismissed the charges. One day in prison was a day too much, but I held my tongue, afraid to make waves. I wanted him out.
“When Reece knew he’d be released, I expected elation, excitement, but all he said was, ‘Who am I now, Jeraldine? Who have I become?’”
Jeraldine tried to hide her moist eyes by taking another drink, but Dana saw.
“I didn’t know what to say, other than he had changed from the person who went into that place fifteen years before. I didn’t say it, of course. Christ, he broke my heart all over again.”
Dana swallowed the lump in her throat. “What happened when he left prison?”
“He had trouble adjusting. Happens a lot with ex-cons. Every place he went, people pointed him out as the man who had decapitated a woman and got off. He was angry. He’d lost his life, his career, his family, and he couldn’t deal with the fallout. After a few months, he spent some time in therapy at my suggestion. I don’t know if it helped. I think it did.”
“He still has moods, he says.”
“Yes, he does. He was in one today, and I suspect it won’t go away quickly.”
This time Jeraldine’s eyes did fill. Dana had a hard enough time holding back the tears herself.
“No one wanted him around, and no place was safe, so he came down here, bought that nice piece of land, and built his house. He doubted anyone would hire him as an architect, no license for one thing, so he took a job building a whole wall around a fireplace for this rich guy in Tennessee. Then another, and word got around. The way he designs them, those things are goddamn beautiful. But he’d really pulled into himself, and I still worried.”
Dana didn’t want to hear all this, but at the same time she wanted to hear every word. She likened it to watching a horror movie through splayed fingers. She didn’t want to see it, but she didn’t want to miss anything either. “I know one thing. He’s not a murderer.”
“No, honey, he isn’t. That’s the one thing I’m sure of too. But I’m afraid he’ll spend the rest of his life defending himself. The only way that will cease is if they find out who killed Karen Sitton, and if the Cambridge police haven’t found the real killer by now, I doubt they ever will. Six years ago, they said they’d reopen the case, but if they did, I haven’t heard about it, and they don’t want to answer my questions. Clarence has been poking around for the last few months in his spare time, digging deeper. If anyone can find what went undiscovered twenty-one years ago, Clarence can. He worked cold cases when he was a cop in Detroit. I met him there when I attended a lawyer’s symposium and convinced him to come work for me.”
“Why, after all these years, did you look back into the case?”
“Call it unfinished business, call it personal guilt, call it I had a crack investigator for the first time. But the real reason is I wanted Reece cleared
“Prison’s tough, Dana. It can be brutal on men used to the mean streets. It sure as hell’s not for a boy raised with a silver spoon in his mouth. That fact made Reece a target from day one, despite his size. Bad guys can smell fear like bloodhounds, and they don’t miss a chance to swoop down and dig in their claws. Later on, much later, Reece saved Vance, but he almost died doing it, if you’ve seen the scar down the side of his torso. I haven’t, but I heard about it.”
Dana couldn’t slow the drumbeat in her chest. “I’ve seen it.”
Jeraldine ordered another round of drinks. “I persisted, finally proving the crime scene had been contaminated, thanks to a retired cop who’d kept his mouth shut for fear of bringing trouble to his friends in blue. His silence helped convict Reece. He really believed Reece guilty, so he didn’t have too much trouble with his conscience. They had no physical evidence other than the semen, no weapon, so the prosecutor said Reece had served enough time and refused to retry him. A judge dismissed the charges. One day in prison was a day too much, but I held my tongue, afraid to make waves. I wanted him out.
“When Reece knew he’d be released, I expected elation, excitement, but all he said was, ‘Who am I now, Jeraldine? Who have I become?’”
Jeraldine tried to hide her moist eyes by taking another drink, but Dana saw.
“I didn’t know what to say, other than he had changed from the person who went into that place fifteen years before. I didn’t say it, of course. Christ, he broke my heart all over again.”
Dana swallowed the lump in her throat. “What happened when he left prison?”
“He had trouble adjusting. Happens a lot with ex-cons. Every place he went, people pointed him out as the man who had decapitated a woman and got off. He was angry. He’d lost his life, his career, his family, and he couldn’t deal with the fallout. After a few months, he spent some time in therapy at my suggestion. I don’t know if it helped. I think it did.”
“He still has moods, he says.”
“Yes, he does. He was in one today, and I suspect it won’t go away quickly.”
This time Jeraldine’s eyes did fill. Dana had a hard enough time holding back the tears herself.
“No one wanted him around, and no place was safe, so he came down here, bought that nice piece of land, and built his house. He doubted anyone would hire him as an architect, no license for one thing, so he took a job building a whole wall around a fireplace for this rich guy in Tennessee. Then another, and word got around. The way he designs them, those things are goddamn beautiful. But he’d really pulled into himself, and I still worried.”
Dana didn’t want to hear all this, but at the same time she wanted to hear every word. She likened it to watching a horror movie through splayed fingers. She didn’t want to see it, but she didn’t want to miss anything either. “I know one thing. He’s not a murderer.”
“No, honey, he isn’t. That’s the one thing I’m sure of too. But I’m afraid he’ll spend the rest of his life defending himself. The only way that will cease is if they find out who killed Karen Sitton, and if the Cambridge police haven’t found the real killer by now, I doubt they ever will. Six years ago, they said they’d reopen the case, but if they did, I haven’t heard about it, and they don’t want to answer my questions. Clarence has been poking around for the last few months in his spare time, digging deeper. If anyone can find what went undiscovered twenty-one years ago, Clarence can. He worked cold cases when he was a cop in Detroit. I met him there when I attended a lawyer’s symposium and convinced him to come work for me.”
“Why, after all these years, did you look back into the case?”
“Call it unfinished business, call it personal guilt, call it I had a crack investigator for the first time. But the real reason is I wanted Reece cleared
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