“I would. I ran a records check on your two brothers. I wanted to see what had become of them in the last twenty years.”
“We don’t keep in touch.”
Spencer felt the sweat prickle on his neck.
He said: “I ran the records check through the TBI. At the time of the Trail Murders, both your brothers had two felony convictions apiece. One for shoplifting, and one for robbing a convenience store.”
“Shoplifting?” The prisoner’s smile was ironic.
“Petty larceny was a felony in Tennessee at that time. We had another funny little law back then, too. The Career Criminal Act. Remember that? Three felony convictions, and you’re ineligible for parole. Forever. The law was repealed a few years later, but at the time of those murders, your brothers knew that if they were convicted of that crime, they would get either the death penalty or life in prison with no hope of release.”
Fate Harkryder sighed and looked away. Spencer wondered if he was remembering with regret a long-ago conversation with his brothers, or if he was just tired of talking about it. Twenty years of prison coupled with twenty years of legal battles would make a man weary of life.
“It must have seemed like a reasonable request at the time,” the sheriff said. “Your brothers can’t afford a conviction. You have no criminal record, and you’re only seventeen. When you get caught with the jewelry, they tell you to say nothing about what really happened. Take the rap if you have to. You’re a kid. It’ll only be a few years. You can do it. But to everyone’s surprise, you got the death penalty. And then you were stuck, weren’t you?”
“I said I wasn’t guilty.”
“All prisoners say they’re not guilty. We caught you with the victim’s personal effects. You must have known that if you didn’t explain that, you’d be convicted.” Spencer found himself thinking of Frankie Silver.
“So you took the blame for your brothers’ crime, and you’ve spent your entire adult life in prison,” he said. “What a waste.”
“Yeah, well, I was seventeen years old. What the hell did I know?”
“You learned fast, though, didn’t you? The first time you got raped in your cell, I bet you were real sorry you had been so noble.”
The condemned man shrugged. “You get used to anything. I survived.”
“They weren’t worth it, you know. Those brothers of yours. I ran a records check on them before I came here. You may not want to know what happened to them, but I did.”
“Found out, did you? That must have been a thrill.”
“I don’t know what I was hoping for: whether I wanted them to turn out to be notorious serial killers or missionaries to China. I guess I wanted them to be entirely better than you are or utterly worse. They were neither, of course. Tom is on parole in Kentucky for kidnapping and armed robbery, which makes me wonder what else he’s done that he hasn’t been caught at. And Ewell wasn’t on the computer, but we found him through Motor Vehicles. Your brother Ewell is a drunk who lives on welfare and odd jobs in Knoxville. I doubt his liver will last much longer.”
“Tom and Ewell,” said Fate Harkryder thoughtfully. “I haven’t really paid them much mind in years. In my head, they’re still twenty-something. The letters from home don’t mention them.”
“Didn’t you care what became of them? You gave up your life for them.”
“I cared at first, but… hell: Prison is another country. It’s like my old life was another incarnation-that it was me back in those days, and yet not me, so none of the people and places from before are real somehow. Tom and Ewell are no more real to me now than people I saw in movies when I was a kid. Maybe they’re less real. I still see John Wayne every now and then.”
“You don’t have to keep on lying,” said Spencer. “Let’s just call a press conference and tell what really happened.”
For one moment something flickered in the prisoner’s eyes. He took a deep breath. “Have you got any new evidence? DNA?”
“No. All the physical evidence is gone. All we have is crime scene photos and witness interviews, but they haven’t changed since the trial.”
“And what about Tom and Ewell? Will they back you up?”
Spencer looked away. “No. I called them last night. Ewell swears he’s innocent, and Tom hung up on me. You’re on your own.”
“So it would just be my word and your hunch against a twenty-year-old murder conviction that has withstood decades of appeals?”
“Yes.”
Fate Harkryder shook his head with amused disbelief. “So you call your press conference and announce all this, and then what, Mr. Arrowood? You and me go out for a few beers? It won’t work like that. Nobody will pay us any mind. My
“But you have to try,” said the sheriff. “You can’t let yourself be executed for a crime just to protect your brothers.”
“It isn’t about them anymore. Don’t you see that? It doesn’t matter why I came here, or whether I deserved it. Twenty years are gone. Who I was is gone. All that’s left is a tired old man who doesn’t want to be in here another day.”
“But we could get you a good lawyer and ask for a pardon.”
“I wouldn’t get one. I’m a poor, dumb hillbilly, Sheriff. Why should anybody bother to keep me alive? They’d just change the sentence to life and let me stay in here and rot. I had the jewelry on me, remember? I’m not just an innocent bystander. Charles Stanton is never going to let anyone forget that.”
“At least you wouldn’t die.”
“You don’t get it, do you? I’ve been dead for twenty years. I just want to get out of here and be done with it. Tonight.”
“In a pine box?”
“Whatever.”
“Well, if you won’t try, at least I can. I don’t want you on my conscience. I have seven hours. I can go and see the governor-”
Fate Harkryder shook his head. “I want it to be over, Sheriff. It’s too late. I’m tired of this life. Just let it happen, will you? Consider this a dying man’s last wish.
“But-”
Fate Harkryder tapped on the bars. “Visitor’s leaving!” He called out to the guard. In a loud, cheerful voice meant to be overheard, he said, “Thanks for coming by, Sheriff. Wish me luck tonight, okay?”
Spencer Arrowood turned to go.
“Mr. Arrowood! There is something you can do for me.” Fate Harkryder flashed his mocking smile, but his eyes shone. “I got nobody else to ask. But it’s my last wish, and I hope you’ll oblige me.”
“What is it?”
