Taken to the Edge. Kara Lennox
that he could not stop focusing on the feel of her warm, soft hand against his arm. How many times in high school had he vividly imagined sex with her? Yet he’d never thought about the experience of holding her hand, or listening to her talk, or the faint scent of that light, teasing perfume.
“The second point I would like to bring up is the wig fiber,” she said, sounding more like an attorney than a…he didn’t know what she was now, other than I rich man’s ex-wife. “The cops combed Eldon’s car bit by bit, and they found one lone fiber that didn’t belong—a blond, synthetic wig fiber. They claimed it was insignificant, but I can’t think of a single person Eldon or Justin came in contact with who wore a blond wig.”
Ford loved fiber evidence. In years past, forensic scientists could declare one synthetic fiber “consistent with” another. But as testing became more sophisticated, precise matches were more commonplace, particularly with something like a wig fiber. That was something he could sink his teeth into. “I like it,” he said. “But as I recall, the cops found blood evidence in Eldon’s car, too.”
“A few tiny drops. Justin frequently had nose-bleeds.”
“Okay. What’s your third point?”
Robyn took a deep breath. “I believe Eldon was with someone that night, someone who could clear him. I know there’s something he’s holding back. There’s a certain look he gets in his eyes when he’s lying…about a woman.”
Ford couldn’t think what to reply to that. He had a healthy respect for a woman’s instincts, but this was hardly hard evidence.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she rushed on to say. “But if I could just talk to him, I could convince him to come clean.”
“You haven’t talked to him?”
“They won’t let me. And Trina—she knows nothing about the woman and I’ve hesitated to say anything to her. I don’t want to be the one to tell her Eldon was cheating.”
“I could probably get you an interview with Eldon,” Ford found himself saying. The Project Justice lawyers were experts at negotiating prison regulations. “But why in hell didn’t he speak up about this woman, if she exists?”
“He must have a reason. But I’m positive she exists.” Robyn sounded like she was trying to keep the edge of desperation out of her voice.
“Maybe she’s the one with the wig,” Ford said.
“Exactly!” Right about then, Robyn realized she was still holding on to Ford’s arm, and she pulled her hand back self-consciously. She wiped her damp palm on the leg of her jeans. “I’m sorry. I forgot I was holding on to you like that.”
He hadn’t forgotten. He still felt the ghost of her touch, like a brand on his forearm. “It’s okay.” He opened his mouth to tell her she could touch him any old time, then thought better of it. She’d come to him in a desperate frame of mind, and he would be lower than slime to take advantage of that.
“Robyn, it sounds like you’ve got some sound reasons for reopening the case. Have you talked to the original investigators? The District Attorney who tried the case?”
“Yes on both counts. They’re like brick walls. Maybe you’ve never noticed this, but cops and D.A.’s don’t like to admit they made a mistake. They particularly don’t like to admit they sent an innocent man to death row. No matter what I hit them with, I get the same company line.”
“‘We’re positive the right man is behind bars’?” He’d uttered that one once or twice himself when he was on the other side of the fence, and at the time he’d meant it.
“That’s the one.”
He’d once been that arrogant, believed himself infallible. He was a smart cop, everyone said so. Careful, conscientious. And still, he’d helped send an innocent man to prison—then, two years later, freed a guilty one.
He refused to make any more mistakes.
“I suggest you submit Eldon’s case through the normal channels at Project Justice,” Ford said. “I’ll put in a good word for it.”
“I’ve already done that.”
Then why was she talking to him? Before he could voice the question, she answered it.
“The application process can take months. Do you know the date of Eldon’s execution?”
It wasn’t something Ford kept up with. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“July 18. Exactly two weeks and one day from today. He’s running out of time, and you’re his only hope.”
“Ah, hell.” If Ford hadn’t been sober before leaving the bar, he was now. He walked back toward his big Crown Victoria—the same type of car he’d driven as a cop, purchased at a police auction. Old habits die hard. “You’re not making this easy, you know.”
“I didn’t intend to make it easy. An innocent man’s life is at stake.”
“Robyn, I no longer work for Project Justice.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “What? Since when?”
“Since this afternoon. I quit. But I could try to get Eldon’s case at the top of the pile—”
She shook her head. “I want you to handle it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? I don’t understand.”
He wasn’t going to explain it, either. But when he’d seen Katherine Hannigan lying in that hospital bed, literally black-and-blue, nearly murdered by a man Ford had helped to free, something had clicked inside his brain. He wasn’t going to take people’s lives into his hands anymore.
“I’ll plead your case tomorrow morning, first thing,” he said. “Give me your number. Someone will contact you within forty-eight hours.”
“I want you to handle it.”
In her chin-forward, clench-fisted stance, he caught a glimpse of that belligerent girl he’d known in school, the one who had so steadfastly maintained her innocence when she’d been accused of a theft.
The one he’d wanted to believe.
“Why me?” he wanted to know. “I thought you hated me.”
She flashed him the ghost of a smile, then sobered. My personal feelings for you are irrelevant. I know you’re determined. I know when you get a case in your teeth, you don’t let it go. And after years of being lied to by lawyers and scammed by private investigators, after having cops and D.A.s cover their butts rather than get at the truth, I want someone on my team who will work hard, stay the course. You’re the ideal candidate.”
Ford could hardly believe his ears. Why would Robyn Jasperson put so much faith in him? “How do you know that about me?”
“I pay attention.”
They stared at each other, sizing up each other’s resolve in the dimly lit parking lot as rowdy music from the bar’s jukebox drifted out each time the front door opened.
“I’ve changed,” he said softly, looking away.
“People don’t change that much. Can you really walk away from a man who’s going to die by lethal injection in little more than two weeks? If there’s even a chance he’s innocent?”
Damn it. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure how she knew that about him, but she did.
“I’ll think about it.” He wouldn’t make a promise he couldn’t keep.
FORD DIDN’T TRUST MANY people, but Daniel Logan was someone he did.
Daniel had no training as either a lawyer or a cop. But six years in federal prison maneuvering through the ins and outs of his various appeals had provided him