Dead Giveaway

'Figures you two would be related,' he said with a smile.

Kate went over and shook his hand. 'I've heard wonderful things about you, Mr. Washington.'

'Everybody calls me Thaddeus.' He looked at me, his expression now serious. 'Lawrence ever gonna speak to me again, Abby?'

'How about on the outside? I'm hoping we have what we need to set him free,' I said with a grin.

'Did I hear right?' came a voice from the door. It was Joelle, carrying a big bottle of Evian and a box of sugar-free chocolate-chip cookies.

'You heard right,' I answered. 'I'm meeting with a defense lawyer when I leave here. He'll get things rolling. The sooner we're on this, the sooner he'll be out.'

After I introduced Kate and Joelle, Thaddeus said, 'Was it something Lawrence told you that helped him?'

'He told me about Will's mother and headed me in the right direction.' I didn't want to be too specific. Thaddeus may act strong, but I'd learned my lesson about stress and his blood sugar fluctuations.

'About time that son of mine came to his senses,' Thaddeus said.

'Joelle helped, too,' I said, looking at her. 'One of those wrongs Frank worried so much about will soon be righted.'

She placed the cookies and water on Thaddeus's bed, walked over and wrapped her arms around me. 'Thank you, Abby. Thank you so much.'

We visited a little longer, and after we left the hospital, Kate drove me to police impound to pick up my car. She had afternoon patients to see, so we said good-bye and I headed for Mark Whitley's law office on Houston's southwest side. Mark had helped me on another case a few months ago, but this was far more complicated.

Defense attorneys as successful as Mark make big bucks, and he'd poured plenty of that money into his office, a stand-alone redbrick building off the Southwest Freeway. I noticed his Porsche parked in his marked spot, and when he came out to greet me, he could have been walking on some fashion runway in Paris.

'Nice,' I said, nodding appreciatively at his navy suit with wide lapels and pinstripes.

He smiled. 'Like it? Neil Barrett.'

'I should have known,' I said, pretending I knew who Neil Barrett was. Dark-haired, young and very good- looking, Mark seemed to have it all, including brains.

Once we were settled in his office, me with my Diet Coke and Mark with his Perrier, I spent the next half hour explaining the case and how I needed his help getting Lawrence Washington out of jail ASAP.

Mark leaned back in his black leather chair. 'Last time all I had to do was intimidate a small-town police force for you, but this, Abby? Texans take their guilty convictions very seriously.'

'But he's innocent,' I said.

'You think that matters?' he said, eyebrows raised.

'Wait a minute. We have evidence and—'

'I'm not saying I can't get him out. I will. But we're talking three months at the least. More likely a year.'

'He has to stay there a year? I don't get it. Can we try for a pardon from the governor or—'

'Innocence pardons are considered only on unanimous recommendation of an applicant's three trial officials —the sentencing judge, the district attorney and the police involved in the arrest. Then we'll need unanimous agreement from the Board of Pardon and Paroles. Can you see there might be a lengthy delay?'

I sighed and leaned back against the cushioned client chair. Damn. After my last meeting with Lawrence, I was pretty sure he'd be thrilled to know Sara was alive, happy to know I'd told the truth about his son. But he'd never let them inside that prison to visit. He wouldn't want them to see him in that place.

I looked at Mark. 'Is there anything you can do to speed this up? Because the one surviving arresting officer, Randall Dugan, will never cooperate. You'll have a major barrier right off the bat.'

'I don't know, Abby. This will require some intense effort starting the minute you walk out the door. I got some favors out there, a couple D.A.'s who might listen. Maybe I can work a miracle, get him out in less than three months.'

'Do whatever you have to. Spare no expense. This is on my personal tab, not my client's,' I said.

'We'll talk money another day,' he said.

A few minutes later, I was back in the Camry. Funny how I'd never paid much attention to how long it had taken innocent men to get out of Huntsville after the Houston crime lab debacle in 2004. But it was all very real now. On my way home, I was feeling down and trying to hide it when I called Will's house and his mother answered.

'This is Abby,' I said.

'Abby. How are you?'

'Pretty good,' I said.

'Any news?'

'Big news. I've found Will's mother and his father. I don't know how to get in touch with Will, though.'

'He'll be home the day after tomorrow—but this is wonderful. You found them in less than two weeks. What about the poor lady who died? Was her murder connected to your search for Will's birth parents?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'Is that why you don't sound very happy?' she asked.

'Things are just... complicated. Let me begin at the beginning.'

Again I had to tell a long story, which only reinforced what Mark had made clear. The happy ending might not be so happy after all. A year or more could pass before Lawrence walked out of Huntsville Prison to see his son, his father and the woman who, even though he thought she was dead, he had protected for nineteen years.

27

Jeff came home close to eight that evening, tired but in a great mood. Wish mine could have matched. He'd brought French dip sandwiches and herb pasta salad from La Madeleine, and we ate at the counter. Despite the great food, I was still glum when I told him about my visit with Mark.

'I needed Mark's reality check about as much as Aunt Caroline needs a face-lift,' I said.

'Yeah, I've talked to Mark today,' Jeff said. 'He wanted to know exactly how much evidence HPD has to exonerate Lawrence. He's on this. He'll get it done.'

'In about a year. But no use whining,' I said. 'Guess we both did our jobs. I only wish they'd hand me a key to his cell and I could let him out myself.'

'You should be proud. I know I'm proud of you,' Jeff said.

'I couldn't have done it without your help. Daddy always said success is the result of backbone, not wishbone, and you're the one with the backbone.'

'You're the strongest woman I've ever met, Abby. Now put away the wishbone for Lawrence. You've done all you can.' He took out a fresh pack of Big Red and stared at it for a second. 'We got any beer? I could use one while I tell you what Olive had to say.'

'Sure. I'm well stocked with staples. Beer, wine, Diet Coke and frozen pizza.'

He smiled and returned the gum to his pocket.

I grabbed a couple Shiner Bocks from the fridge, saying, 'I nearly forgot about Olive. I'm anxious to hear that lady's excuse for keeping Sara a virtual prisoner.'

We went to the living room—or as I like to call it, the loving room—and sat on either end of the couch. Jeff took off his shoes and we faced each other, assuming our favorite position, legs outstretched and intertwined.

'Olive is actually a nice lady,' he said. 'Clueless, but nice. I'm guessing her IQ hovers around 80 to 85. She and Verna Mae went back a long time, and she knew her friend wanted a baby.'

'I figured that's how Will ended up where he did.'

'What you don't know is that Verna Mae visited Sara Rankin every week. Those scrapbooks, pictures and