Софи Райан - No Escape Claws

He didn’t say anything.

“An innocent man doesn’t deserve to be in jail, Mr. Davis.”

“Mr. Pearson took a plea deal,” Henry said.

“Because the police had a witness whose integrity no one would question,” Liz said.

Just then Judge Halloran came down the hallway. He was in his shirtsleeves, carrying a yellow legal pad, his reading glasses sliding down his nose. “Chelsea, did I—” he began, then he caught sight of us. “Elizabeth, I didn’t realize you were here.” He joined us.

“Hello, Neill,” Liz said. “You remember Sarah Grayson.”

“Of course I do,” he said. “It’s good to see you again, Sarah.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” I said. He had such a kind face. I suddenly had a lump in my throat.

He smiled at us. “Why are we standing out here? Come back to my office.”

We followed the judge down the hall and I tried to tell myself I was wrong. So he’d called me by Gram’s name. I’d gotten people’s names mixed up before. And he started the barbecue in December. Lots of people liked to grill all year ’round.

Henry Davis was in front of me. He held himself stiffly, his shoulders rigid. He didn’t want this conversation to continue. I knew I wasn’t wrong.

We stepped into the judge’s office. “Please, sit down,” he said, gesturing at the two chairs in front of his desk where we’d sat during our last visit. He turned to me and smiled. “Now, Isabel, what can I do for you?”

I swallowed down that lump in my throat. “The last time we were here we talked about Mike Pearson.”

He nodded. “I remember.”

“You told us that you’re certain you saw him after the Pearsons’ house was on fire.”

“That’s right. I also saw him earlier in the day while I was shoveling my driveway.”

Henry Davis took a couple of steps closer so he was in my line of sight. “Ms. Grayson, I don’t mean to be rude, but Judge Halloran is a very busy man.”

The judge looked at his assistant. “I’m not too busy for an old friend, Henry.”

I felt the prickle of sudden tears, but I blinked them away. “What’s my name?” I asked.

Henry sucked in a sharp breath.

Judge Halloran frowned. “Your name is Sarah,” he said. “Now, how about you tell me what is going on?”

“Before, you called me Isabel.”

He smiled then. “I’m sorry. You remind me so much of your grandmother.”

“You called me by her name when I was here before,” I said. I kept my eyes locked on his face.

“Are you trying to say there’s something wrong with my memory?” he asked. “Is that the reason for all the questions about the fire?”

Liz leaned forward in her chair. “Neill, Mike Pearson is a good man, a good man I believe should not be in jail.”

Henry cleared his throat. “As I said earlier, it’s my understanding that Mr. Pearson is in jail because he took a plea deal.”

Her gaze flicked to him for just a moment. Something in the look she gave him silenced the man. Liz turned her attention back to Judge Halloran.

I didn’t like doing this. The judge was a good man, too. I didn’t like forcing his secret from him. But I couldn’t leave Mike Pearson in jail. I couldn’t leave three kids without their father.

“Judge, we don’t know each other,” I said. “But my grandmother does know you. Her exact words to me were, ‘Neill will do the right thing, always.’ I’m going to trust that you’re the person she says you are.” I got to my feet and looked at Liz. “Let’s go,” I said.

I expected her to object, to say something more to the judge but she didn’t. She stood up and slipped her purse over her arm.

I’d taken two steps when he spoke. “Please, don’t leave,” he said.

I stopped and turned around. Liz put a hand on my arm.

The judge was on his feet as well.

Henry Davis stepped in front of him. “Think this through, Judge,” he said.

Judge Halloran smiled. “I have, Henry,” he said. “That’s the problem. All I’ve done is think . . . about myself.” He gestured at the chairs. “Please, Elizabeth, Is—Sarah, sit down.”

I glanced at Liz. She nodded. We took our seats again. The judge leaned against the edge of his desk.

“I’m in the very early stages of . . . dementia. According to my doctor, aside from some drop in my concentration levels—and some of that may just be a factor of getting older in general—and some small memory issues, mostly with names, which you noticed, I’m not suffering from any cognitive decline.”

“I work with the judge every day,” Henry said. “I haven’t seen any loss of mental ability.” He was angry. I could see it in the way he held his mouth and in the rigidity of his body. I couldn’t help but like his loyalty.

“It’s not a question of your mental function, Neill,” Liz said.

“But you believe I’m mistaken about seeing Mike Pearson,” he said.

I shook my head. “We think someone went to a fair amount of effort to set Mike up, to make you believe you saw him.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

I leaned forward in my chair. “One of the details you mentioned was Mike’s hat—a blue and red baseball cap.”

“The replica of the Melbourne Olympics baseball team hat,” he said. “Michael wore that hat a lot.”

“He wasn’t wearing it when the fire started,” Liz said. “Because he didn’t have it then.”

“You’re certain.”

I nodded.

“So you believe I saw someone pretending to be Michael?”

“Yes.”

He may have had dementia but his reasoning skills were still intact. “Which means you think there’s a possibility that Gina Pearson didn’t start that fire. You think someone murdered her.”

“We don’t have enough evidence right now to take to the police,” Liz said. “But yes, we do.”

“Would it help if I went to the prosecutor and explained about my diagnosis?” he asked.

The tight feeling was back in my chest. “At some point it might,” I said.

He nodded. “You know, the one thing that always bothered me was that Michael didn’t make any attempt not to be seen. His house was on fire and he just walked away. He was too smart for that.” He looked at Henry, whose lips were pulled into two thin lines. “Henry, don’t be angry with Elizabeth and Sarah.” He smiled at me when he said my name. “I should never have kept this quiet like it was some dirty little secret.”

I smiled back at him. “Judge, may I ask you a question? I’m only asking out of curiosity so I won’t be offended if you tell me it’s none of my business.”

“What is it?” he said.

“Why did you care so much about Gina Pearson? Why did you go to so much trouble to help her?”

“Gina wasn’t drinking when they first moved in next to me. She was a good mother. A good person.” He exhaled softly. “She reminded me of my mother.”

I hadn’t expected him to say that.

“When my older brother, Connor, died, my mother started drinking. We didn’t use the word ‘alcoholic’ very much back then, but that’s what she was. Good people helped her find her way back to us. I just wanted to do the same thing for someone else.”

I had to swallow a couple of times before I could speak. “I think you would have succeeded,” I said.

Liz got to her feet and I followed suit. “Thank you, Neill,” she said, extending her hand.

“You’re welcome, Elizabeth.”

I offered my own hand, which he took in both of his. “Thank you,” I said. I cleared my throat. “Everything Gram said about you is true.”

He swallowed to clear his own throat. “I’m honored by her faith in me, and yours.” He smiled then. “And please, come back soon and I’ll pull out a couple of embarrassing stories about Elizabeth for your book project.”