Greg Iles - Turning Angel

”Drew, listen to me,“ I implore. ”Right now, Tim is at risk of losing his father. At the very least, you’re about to be sentenced to spend the rest of your life in prison. At worst, you’ll get death by lethal injection. And Timmy will know that. All the time you’re waiting for your appeal, Timmy will be suffering. If you had killed Kate, that would be one thing. But you didn’t. I believed you before, but now I know. All through your trial, you told Quentin that you wanted the jury to know the truth. Well, now we know the real truth. And the jury should know it, too. Don’t you see?“

Drew is staring at me as though paying close attention, so I press on.

”If we can prove Ellen’s story, your conviction will be overturned. You’ll be a free man. Free to be the father Tim needs.“

”What would happen to Ellen?“

”She’d probably serve a brief sentence for manslaughter.“

”He can’t guarantee that,“ Quentin says. ”Your wife could get life for murder.“

”Manslaughter,“ I insist. ”No jury’s going to convict Ellen of murder for fighting with a girl who was pregnant by her husband. We could plea-bargain it ahead of time. There wouldn’t even have to be a trial. I’d represent Ellen.“

Drew stirs at this, but then Quentin says, ”You’re forgetting Ellen’s drug habit, Penn. How Kate was used to feed that habit. No jury is going to buy Ellen as a noble wife who lost control just once.“

”It doesn’t matter,“ Drew says in a monotone.

Quentin and I fall silent, waiting for him to explain.

”If I hadn’t gotten involved with Kate, none of this would have happened. Ellen did what she did because I put her in an impossible position. I won’t have her punished in my place. Not for my weakness.“ Drew stares out of the little cubicle with absolute conviction. ”I carry my own water, guys.“

”Drew-“

”Let it go, Penn. I’ll take my chances on appeal.“ He stands and holds his cuffed hands up to the window. ”I appreciate you trying. But I want you to forget what Ellen told you. Every word of it.“

I bow my head, marshaling my strength for further effort. Then I flatten my hands against the window like starfish and lean close to the vent. ”You want to punish yourself? Fine. But don’t cheat Timmy out of a father. You owe it to him to be there for him.“

Drew lifts his eyes to mine, but all I see in them now is resignation. ”Tim will be okay with Ellen. Go home and hug Annie. Don’t worry about me anymore. Let it go.“

He turns away and knocks for a deputy.

I search for the right words to make Drew reconsider, but he’s gone before I find them. I turn to Quentin in anger and confusion.

The old lawyer is looking at the glass where Drew stood just a moment ago. ”That’s a man, right there,“ he says. ”Haven’t met any like him in at least twenty years.“

I clutch Quentin’s upper arm. ”You’d better get him off on appeal. You hear me? He doesn’t belong in a cell.“

”If it can be done, I’ll do it.“

”That’s what you said about the last trial.“

Quentin pats his coat flat, then shoots his cuffs. ”Nobody could have got him acquitted for that girl’s murder. Not in this town. Not this week. The deck was stacked, and Elliot’s too goddamn noble to play the game the way he would have had to for us to win. Even with his life at stake.“

I say nothing. It’s time for me to get back to the hospital, as much as I hate the idea. My jaw muscles are already aching, and the bone pain won’t be far behind.

Quentin and I take the elevator down together. Doris Avery is sitting with Daniel Kelly on a bench in the lobby, talking quietly. As Quentin and I walk toward them, my cell phone rings. The caller ID says,MIA.

”Hello? Mia?“

”Yes! I’ve got to talk to you.“ She’s breathing as though she’s just run a hundred-yard dash. ”Face-to-face. Where are you?“

”The county jail. Where are you?“

”Your hospital room. I thought you’d be here.“ Her voice is crackling with energy, but I can’t tell whether that energy is the result of excitement or panic.

”Hang on.“ I shake Quentin’s hand, then motion him onward. ”It’s my kid’s babysitter. I’ll call you later at the hotel.“

Quentin says, ”We may head back out to the country tonight. Call me there if you don’t get me at the hotel.“

I wave to Doris as Quentin makes his way to the bench. Then I turn away and walk back toward the elevators. ”These are digital phones, Mia. No one’s going to hear you. Tell me what’s happened.“

”I can’t. It’s too dangerous.“

My patience has worn down to nothing. ”Mia, stop the melodrama and just tell me what’s going on.“

The silence that follows tells me I’ve hurt her feelings. I’m sorry for that, but there’s too much at stake now for high school detective games. ”Mia…“

”It’s okay,“ she says.

”What’s this about?“

”Coach Anders.“

”Wade? What about him?“

”He’s been sleeping with a student.“

My stomach goes hollow. ”Who?“

”Jenny Jenkins. She’s a junior. “

”How did you find this out?“

”She told me herself, not fifteen minutes ago. I was up at the school, in a meeting about the senior trip. When I came out, Jenny was waiting for me.“

”Are you two friends?“

”Not really. She told me because I’ve been bugging everybody all week about Marko. You know, trying to find you.“

”I don’t get it.“

”That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This isn’t really about Coach Anders-it’s about Marko. “

I can hardly contain my frustration. ”What about Marko?“

”His alibi is bullshit.“

I feel a wave of disorientation, but I’m not sure if it’s Oxycontin or the first hint of true knowledge. ”His alibi for which day? The Wilsons or Kate?“

”Kate!“

”Wade Anders was Marko’s alibi.“

” That’s what I’m telling you! Coach Anders’s story was bullshit!“

I blink in disbelief. ”Don’t say another word.“

Mia laughs. ”Told you.“

I think quickly. ”Do you know where Jewish Hill is?“

”The City Cemetery?“

”Meet me there as soon as you can.“

”I’m on my way.“

Daniel Kelly and I stand on the edge of Jewish Hill, waiting for Mia in a softly falling rain. Beyond the twin bridges over the Mississippi, the sun is sliding down the last of its arc; soon it will slip silently into the great river. I turn and look out over the cemetery. Kate’s grave is only a low mound of mud now. The faded green tent that protected it is gone, and there’s been no time to carve a gravestone. That takes weeks in this town.

Looking down the road that runs along the bluff, I spy a solitary figure in the rain. The Turning Angel. She’s not turning now, but merely standing with her head bowed, trying to weather the coming storm. As I stare, a hundred thoughts sweep through my mind. Ellen told me she killed Kate, and I believed her. But if Ellen killed Kate, why did Marko Bakic get Coach Anders to lie about his whereabouts that day? Could he have been doing a drug deal? If so, and Kate happened to get killed at the same time, then Marko must have improvised the alibi to cover his dope deal, not a murder.

It’s a plausible theory. But something has been bothering me ever since I heard Ellen’s confession. It’s the sequence of events as she described them. Ellen told me that after she began choking Kate, Kate quickly ”went out“-or became unconscious-and then fell and hit her head on the buried wheel rim. But the pathologist who autopsied Kate determined the cause of death to be strangulation, not head trauma. I believe Ellen choked Kate long enough to make her unconscious, but probably not long enough to kill her. In fact, my impression during Ellen’s confession was that she believed Kate died from the blow to her head. Ellen must have read otherwise in the newspaper, but she probably figured Kate was dead before her head hit the wheel.