had refused to participate. He was troubled by Jennings’s demeanor; it wasn’t the demeanor of a sexual predator. Was Jennings that good of a liar? Maybe. But Devereaux decided to wait for the Evidence Response Team’s report before making any judgments about Gary Jennings; he would wait to see if Gracie’s DNA was found in Jennings’s truck. DNA never lied.
But the mayor’s proclamation had brought the family into the command post; Devereaux was now standing on the other side of his desk from Gracie’s parents and grandparents.
“The court’s got to appoint a lawyer to represent Jennings, one with experience in death cases, because the appeals courts will order a retrial if the trial lawyer didn’t know what he was doing. So then we go through another trial all over again, three years down the road.”
“But we’ve got to find Grace!” the mother said.
This was the part that Devereaux always hated. “Mrs. Brice, if Jennings is the abductor, Gracie wasn’t with him. Which means-”
“She’s dead,” the mother said.
“Yes, ma’am. If Jennings is the guy.”
“At least he can tell us where she’s at.”
“Yes, ma’am. If he knows.”
“You’re not sure he’s the abductor, are you?” Colonel Brice asked. “Things don’t fit.”
“No, sir, things don’t fit.”
“Make him take a polygraph,” the colonel said.
“If we administer a polygraph before his lawyer is appointed and he fails, we know he’s guilty but anything we learn from the polygraph may not be admissible.”
“And if he passes?”
“We cut him loose. Polygraphs aren’t admissible in court, but they’re 95 percent reliable, which is a helluva lot better than a jury.”
“What about the other man from the game tape?”
“Colonel, I don’t know. Maybe they weren’t together. Maybe Jennings didn’t know the other man like he says.”
“So what’s the time frame,” the mother asked.
“Several days. The court will appoint a lawyer today, he’ll be arraigned tomorrow. It takes longer to do it right, but if we screw this up, his conviction will be overturned and we’ll never execute Gary Jennings for the murder of your daughter.”
“Well, Eddie, you fucked up the jersey,” the chief said. “Plain sight? In the back of a truck under a bed cover? What, you got X-ray vision?”
Patrol Officer Eddie Yates was sweating. Chief Ryan had called him at home and asked him to come in early before shift change and see him in his office. That had never happened before. Eddie had figured the chief wanted to congratulate him on a job well done. He had figured wrong.
“And the porn picture, now that’s kind of interesting, Eddie, ’cause the only fingerprints they could find on the damn thing were yours. How you figure that?”
The pores on Eddie’s forehead were popping sweat beads like popcorn.
“Chief, I-”
“You entered his truck, searched it, looked under the mat, picked the picture up, and put it back under? How stupid is that?”
“Shit, Chief, I thought I rubbed off my prints.”
“Eddie, you ain’t supposed to tell your chief that, goddamnit!” The chief shook his head. “Damnit, Eddie, that son of a bitch could walk ’cause of you! You’d better pray the FBI boys find her DNA in his truck.”
Barney Fife done screwed up and Sheriff Andy was pissed.
“I’m real sorry, Chief.”
“Did you jimmy the hatch?”
“Oh, no, Chief, I swear I didn’t! It was unlocked, the door, too.”
“Where was the cell phone?”
“In the console. Is that stupid or what? I mean, no one locks their cars in this place, but leaving a cell phone in there? I could’ve taken it, sat in the parking lot, and run out his air time without him knowing it till he got the bill.”
Eddie laughed; the chief didn’t. Instead, he waved Eddie out of his office. Eddie walked to the door then thought of something. He wasn’t sure this was the best time to ask, but he couldn’t wait.
“Uh, Chief…”
The chief looked up.
“Any way I get some of that reward money?”
The chief blinked hard and said, “You’re shittin’ me?”
Eddie took that for a no. He walked out just as the chief’s secretary stuck her head in and said, “Jennings’s wife is here.”
She was just a kid, really.
Ryan had left the door to his office open so his secretary could see and hear them, him and Jennings’s wife. Debbie Jennings had come in to plead her husband’s innocence. He had reminded her that she could not be compelled to testify against her husband; she said they had nothing to hide. She was twenty-five and seven months’ pregnant. They had married two years ago. She knew nothing of his college conviction.
“That doesn’t mean he’s a child molester,” she said. “Gary would never do anything like that.”
She looked like she hadn’t slept since the arrest. She took deep breaths.
“You okay?” She nodded, but Ryan wasn’t so sure. “Mrs. Jennings, where was Gary Friday night?”
“With me. He got home a little after five, we took our walk-the doctor wants me to walk every day-we ate dinner, watched TV. And we picked out names for the baby. It’s a girl.”
“Did you decide?”
“Decide what?”
“Her name.”
“Sarah.”
“Nice name.” Paul Ryan wanted a grandchild, but his son-in-law the proctologist wanted a Porsche. “Gary never left the apartment that night?”
“No.”
“And you never left the apartment?”
“No.”
“Are there any other witnesses?”
“We usually don’t have sleepovers, Chief. Can anyone other than your wife confirm where you were last night?”
She had a point.
“And your cops found nothing when they ransacked our apartment-they went through my underwear drawer, for God’s sake!”
“Mrs. Jennings, do you know anything about Gracie’s jersey, how it might have gotten into Gary’s truck?”
“No. I’ve told him a hundred times to lock his truck, but he always says that’s why we moved out of the city, because there’s no crime out here. Anyone could have put it in his truck.”
“Not anyone, Mrs. Jennings. Only the abductor. Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about the phone calls?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Gary ever talk about Gracie?”
“No. The only time he’s ever spoken to Mr. Brice was at the vigil.”
