O’Brien twisted the knife out of Manerou’s hand and let it fall to the ground.
“Hold him right there!” O’Brien shouted over the rain.
“This guy’s not going anywhere except to the death chamber.” Dan said. “Put the bracelets on him, Bobby.”
NINETY-SEVEN
O’Brien looked at his watch: 5:57. He called Tucker Houston. “Tucker we have Manerou in police custody. We have the knife he used in the Cole killing. He admitted he killed her and the rest. And he just tried to kill me.”
“I’ve got the Governor’s office on hold. Stand by. I’m putting you on hold. I’ll be right back.
At 5:59 A.M., the black phone rang in the Florida State Prison death chamber. The warden answered, “Warden Stone.
“This is Governor Owen. What’s the status of the prisoner?”
“We’re ready to begin, sir.”
“Don’t. I’m issuing an oral executive order to halt the execution. You’ll have it faxed over momentarily.”
“Yes sir.”
“And Warden Stone, please convey to Mr. Williams our apologies for what he’s been through.”
“Yes, sir.” Warden Stone turned to Charlie Williams and said, “Mr. Williams, you are being removed from death row. The State of Florida will be reviewing your case, sir. Governor Owen sends his apologies.”
Charlie Williams wept. He looked at his reflection in the glass window. He recognized the man he always was.
An innocent man.
“Sean,” said Tucker, “the execution has been stopped. I told the Governor Owens everything. Charlie Williams is alive. We’ll get him out.”
“Thank you, Tucker.”
“You’re the hero in this. I’m glad I was able to play the man behind the curtain for you, the guy to help pull strings to get a few political ears to listen. Talk with you later.”
O’Brien turned to Dan and the deputies. He said, “Execution was stopped. Charlie will be walking soon.” To the two deputies, O’Brien said, “Lock this animal up.”
They nodded and led Manerou, hands cuffed behind his back, to a squad car parked behind Dan’s unmarked car.
Dan said, “Sean, you need to get to the hospital. You’ve lost some blood out of that shoulder.”
“I’ll be okay. Thanks for everything, Dan. I have my Jeep just over there. I can drive myself. Here’s the knife that Manerou used to kill Alexandria. Take it to the lab.”
Dan nodded, took the Tupperware box and walked to his car.
O’Brien stood in front of the statue for a minute. The rain had stopped and the dark clouds rolled across the moon like tumbleweeds. It would be dawn soon. The moon was full. It sat in the sky directly above the angel’s arm, near the tip of her pointing finger.
O’Brien felt weak from the loss of blood. He stared at the statue and the moon in the background. In his mind’s eye, he saw the painting, excerpts from his dream, the angel, Saint John, and he saw the Virgin Mary. He held his bleeding shoulder, shook his head, and tried to concentrate on the statue and the moon in front of him. But within a few seconds, a white cloud folded over the moon like a silk handkerchief.
It was fine, O’Brien told himself. The moon will be back tomorrow night.
And now Charlie Williams will live to see it.
NINETY-EIGHT
Charlie Williams was now a free man. He was going back to North Carolina. Back to reclaim eleven years of his life he would never retrieve. He would forever be suspicious of cops, crowds, the system, always looking over his shoulder. O’Brien was there when Williams walked out of prison. He met Williams in the hot parking lot after the reporters had done interviews and filed their stories. O’Brien said, “It’s good to see you, Charlie.”
“Good to see you, too. I appreciate all you did for me.”
O’Brien nodded. “I’m sorry it took so long to do it.”
“But I’m alive, O’Brien. And I’m going home, back to North Carolina.”
“How are you getting there?”
“Catch a bus I suppose.”
“How’d you like to ride there in a convertible?”
“Huh? Convertible?”
“Yeah,” O’Brien pointed to the T-Bird parked next to a high fence. “That’s your car, Charlie.”
“You got to be kidding me!”
“No.” O’Brien tossed Williams the keys. “It’s got a full tank of gas. Take care of it. It’ll be a classic some day.”
“Man, how’d this happen?”
“I bought it from an old friend of mine. Thought I liked convertibles, but I’m more of a Jeep kind of guy.”
Williams smiled. “You’re ok, O’Brien. One of the good ones.” He walked to his car got in and turned the key.
O’Brien stood in the lot and watched as Williams pulled away for the prison, the wind tossing his hair, a country song on the radio. In less than a minute the T-Bird was a dot on the horizon.
A State Senator was proposing a resolution to compensate Charlie Williams a payment of two million dollars for eleven years in prison and four minutes too long strapped to a death chamber gurney.
After a month, O’Brien’s shoulder was healing well. Most of the movement restored in the muscle and tendons. The stitches had been removed. He was lifting weights, eating fish and lots of salads. He ran every day from his river house along an old Indian trail by the river.
He sat at the end of his dock with Max curled in his lap, sleeping in the late afternoon sun. O’Brien watched a baby alligator crawl up on a log, its yellow eyes catching the last warmth of the day. He thought about the events of the last few weeks and what would await him. The state attorney in Volusia County would prosecute Christian Manerou for the deaths of Sam Spelling, Lyle and Anita Johnson and Father Callahan. In Miami, D.A. Stanley Rosen had held a press conference and said Manerou would be brought back to Dade County to stand trial for the death of Alexandria Cole.
Forensics had found her blood in the plastic bag along with a one inch strand of hair that matched Manerou’s DNA. The same DNA matches the lab got from the wool fiber found on Anita Johnson’s ring. Rosen filed accessory- to-murder charges against Jonathan Russo, reminding the media that there is no statute of limitations in a capital murder case.
Father Callahan and Sam Spelling had been buried next to each other. O’Brien went to their graves right after he had his shoulder stitched. He’d left flowers and silent prayers. He sent a gift certificate to Barbie Beckman for two dinners at Joe’s Stone Crab. She was enrolled in college. Tuition paid for. O’Brien would be the prime witness in the separate trials of Christian Manerou and Jonathan Russo. In the meantime, O’Brien needed an income. Maybe he could actually learn the charter fishing business from Nick.
There was the sound of a car door shutting.
Max perked her head up, looked toward the house as a woman walked around it, a picnic basket in hand. She approached the dock. Lauren Miles was dressed in shorts, white cotton top, and her long brown hair was
