Tim Green - False Convictions

“Two days before Twenty/Twenty,” Jake said, “I know. So you’ll have two days to enjoy it before your credibility goes in the shitter and the City of Auburn files a lawsuit.”

“Jamar,” Hanna said, appealing to her three-hundred-pound soundman. “Would you show Mr. Carlson the way out?”

Jamar removed his headset and put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. Jake shrugged him off and turned to go. Casey followed him out on the porch.

“Shit,” Jake said under his breath. “I can’t believe they found him.”

“Sounds like he might have found them,” Casey said.

“Maybe. Whatever. I need a drink.”

“Jake?”

“Yeah,” he said, climbing in behind the wheel.

She got in the other side and asked, “If they’re right about Dwayne, how dangerous do you think he is?”

Jake thought for a minute, then said, “I did a story last year about the number of old land mines in Bosnia-all these little kids getting blown up. I’d say Dwayne is about like one of those. It isn’t going to take much.”

Casey looked out the window at the adjacent cornfield as Jake backed down the driveway.

“I just don’t see what we can do about it,” she said. “He’s a free man, whether we like it or not.”

“Unless we can prove someone messed with the DNA,” Jake said.

“I don’t think it was the lab,” Casey said.

“You know it was Graham,” Jake said, “or Ralph. Or the two of them together.”

Casey fished a card out of her purse. “Helen Mahy is the director of the lab. Very professional. She thought the DNA work was for some national emergency.”

“Graham’s a slippery sucker.”

Casey called the lab director’s cell phone and found her at dinner.

“Could I possibly talk to you for a couple minutes?” Casey asked.

“I can talk,” she said.

“In person,” Casey said, looking at Jake, who nodded. “Just for five or ten minutes. Could we meet at your office?”

“How about nine-thirty?” Helen said. “After dinner. On my way home.”

“Perfect.”

JAKE TOOK THE back roads past farms and vineyards down to his secret Italian restaurant south of Syracuse. The spotty cell service made it hard for Jake to relate everything he’d learned to Dora and he didn’t wrap up with her until they reached Fabio’s. They sat down in front of a large fish tank and Jake ordered a vodka tonic, finishing it before they got their bottle of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo.

“So we have no idea where this is all going,” Casey said, raising her glass.

“To uncertainty,” Jake said, clinking his glass against hers and taking a drink. “Although I have a pretty strong feeling it’s all going to go right back to Graham.”

“And if we can’t prove it?” Casey asked.

“At least we can put Hubbard back in his box,” Jake said. “That would be worth the effort.”

“Are we so sure about Dwayne being the one? Even if it wasn’t Nelson Rivers, are we sure Dwayne did it?” Casey said, thinking of Hubbard’s quirky looks and manners.

“It’s a lot to undo,” Jake said. “And I know it’ll be somewhat embarrassing, but my gut tells me Patricia Rivers and her boyfriend are telling the truth.”

“It seems that way,” Casey said.

They ordered homemade pasta called priest chokers, cooked broccoli rabe, chicken, peppers, and onions. After another glass of wine the food arrived.

“Incredible,” Casey said.

“I told you, it’s as close as you can get to Italy.”

Jake finished off the bottle of wine and let Casey drive. They took the highway to Syracuse and arrived at the lab a few minutes before nine-thirty. Casey pulled over at the curb and they hadn’t waited more than a minute before a dark sedan pulled up behind them and Helen got out. The moon above was like a small penlight under the blanket of clouds in the sky, but the streetlamps cast a bluish light that made Casey wonder if it was Helen who got out of the dark sedan. She looked like a different person to Casey wearing jeans and a silk blouse with a matching scarf tied around her neck. Her makeup was different, too, and Casey realized Helen either wore very little or none at all at the office.

They greeted each other and she and Jake followed Helen as she rattled her keys against the lock before swinging open the door and leading them to a small conference room on the first floor.

“I appreciate this so much,” Casey said, “this late and breaking in on your dinner.”

“I said anything I can do,” Helen said. “I only say what I mean, so, where are we?”

“Is it possible the sample you got from the Auburn Hospital isn’t what we said it was?” Casey asked.

Helen wrinkled her brow. “You said what it was, not me.”

“Well, I didn’t really,” Casey said.

“The people you’re working with.”

“Right, but if they made a mistake, is there a way you could know it?”

Helen shook her head. “Look, I’d like to help, but it’s hard to understand what you’re getting at.”

Jake cleared his throat and said, “If the semen sample you got from the hospital wasn’t twenty years old, is there a way you could know that?”

“Well, I can’t tell you exactly how old it is,” Helen said.

“Could you tell if was two days old as compared to twenty years?” Jake asked.

“That should be easy,” Helen said.

“So, if the sample you got was new, you’d have known it?” Casey asked.

“Yes,” Helen said.

“But no one said anything about it,” Casey said, tapping a fingernail on the veneer of the conference table.

Helen cocked her head. “I don’t know. No one asked. The test was to match DNA. We matched it. The material was broken down, we said that, so there wouldn’t be a reason to think it was anything other than old.”

“You said it was damaged,” Casey said.

“It was,” Helen said, “but it’s possible the damage was due to heat. I could take a sample from today, heat it, and break down the DNA enough so we couldn’t get all thirteen loci. It would take a different analysis to determine whether it was heat or age.”

“You’d have to be pretty clever to heat it,” Casey said.

Helen shrugged. “You wouldn’t want it to look fresh. Heating it would disguise the newness of the slide, so whoever scraped the material from it wouldn’t think anything. A brand new slide? That someone would notice.”

“Will you test it for us?” Casey asked.

Helen grimaced. “We bumped the DNA comps to the front of the line because we got word from Homeland Security. Now…”

Casey cleared her throat and said, “Look, I’ve taken on cases like this before I-”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Helen said. “I watch TV. I just don’t want to do something I shouldn’t because of that.”

“I think if you did this, it would be because it’s the right thing to do,” Casey said. “And a lot of times that’s not the comfortable thing.”

Helen hesitated, then nodded. “All right. You’re right.”

“Can you do it now?” Casey asked.

Helen laughed. “You want an expert. I’ll get it for you tomorrow.”

“First thing?”

“Will noon work?” Helen said, rising from the table and covering a yawn.

“We really appreciate it,” Casey said, extending her hand.

They walked outside and watched Helen drive away.

“Where to now?” Jake asked.

“The Holiday Inn, I guess,” Casey said.

“You know Graham’s going to be waiting for you,” Jake said. “Ralph, at least.”

“Like a bloodhound.”

“How about we dodge them until breakfast?” Jake asked. “That place we had dinner at? The spa? We could stay there. They have these beautiful suites.”