knowledge that one among them would soon die, to be followed, quite likely, by another lockdown and another execution. Even the crazies were muted.
The only break in this routine was Payton's deposition. Shackled, he sat at a wooden table in the psychiatric conference room, responding first to Terri's questions, then to Larry Pell's, with a precision and composure which astonished her. It was as though he wished to perform the last meaningful act of his life, the only one in which he retained volition, by employing all the resources he had acquired since receiving his sentence of death. With conviction and persuasiveness, he spelled out for the lawyers and a court reporter that Eddie Fleet was the murderer of Thuy Sen. For Terri, his story, terrible in itself, was made more tragic by the fact that—unless the Governor granted a reprieve—no one else would ever see or hear Payton tell it.
This sense was only deepened by the fierce dignity of Payton's response to Pell's cross-examination. 'No,' he answered, biting off each word. 'I didn't lie. Don't want to die with a lie on my lips. Don't want Rennell to die for me.' He paused, face twisted with emotion, and then he spoke more softly, looking directly at Larry Pell as if daring him to hear. 'You about to kill my brother, who done nothin' to that girl. All that poor sucker ever did was love me, and what he got for it is this. Only thing I can give him now is truth.'
Tears welled in his eyes. But he would not look away from Pell until, at last, Pell decided he had no more questions.
After this, Payton's only words were for Terri. With a weary smile, he murmured, 'Guess I'll be seeing you.' Then the guards took him away.
* * *
The press conference which followed preceded Terri's call to Thuy Sen's family.
In a hotel meeting room crowded with reporters, she distributed Payton's deposition, transcribed overnight by a team of stenographers. Then she spoke to the cameras. Though she would always find this surreal, Terri had learned to imagine her audience behind the blank lens of a mini-camera.
'Payton Price's confession,' she told them, 'exonerates Rennell Price for the murder of Thuy Sen. And it places responsibility for this horrible act squarely where it belongs—on Eddie Fleet, whose perjured testimony has brought Rennell within eleven days of execution.
'Therefore, we have asked Governor Darrow to delay Payton's execution until—if we're granted the hearing Rennell deserves—Payton can be heard in open court . . .'
This would yield headlines, Terri knew, be the lead story on newscasts across California and, therefore, put pressure on the Governor and, once she filed Rennell's second habeas petition, on Gardner Bond. The price could be Bond's enmity.
As to Thuy Sen's family, she was uncertain of their reaction until, for the first time, she found herself speaking to her father. 'Rennell's innocent,' she said simply. 'He shouldn't die for what Eddie Fleet did to your daughter. All we're asking is that you support our petition to the Governor, so that the right man can be punished.'
'Payton Price die,' Meng Sen interjected coldly. 'Attorney General say you already got his testimony.'
'He will die . . .'
'Tomorrow.' The spat-out word was followed by a pause. 'Tomorrow,' the man repeated quietly. 'I watch him.'
The phone clicked off.
* * *
On the morning of Payton's scheduled execution, Terri began drafting Rennell's habeas corpus petition while Chris, a prisoner in his office, awaited a telephone call from Governor Craig Darrow.
Shortly before 11:00 A.M., Carlo cracked open Terri's door. 'Darrow's on the line,' he said urgently. 'Dad's talking to him now.'
Swiftly, Terri followed Carlo to Chris's office. Through the squawk box, the Governor was speaking in the careful tones of a diplomat. 'I understand your concern, Chris. But my job is to see that our laws are carried out, including those with respect to capital punishment—'
'We're not asking for a commutation, Craig. Just a delay.'
Terri and Carlo stood by Chris's chair. 'Fifteen years,' the Governor said in mild reproof, 'seems like delay enough. The Attorney General advises me that her family wishes this execution to go forward. Where the man's admitted his guilt of a terrible crime, and you've preserved his eleventh-hour testimony, I'm inclined to agree.'
Anxious, Terri turned from the squawk box to her husband, willing him to give the answer she would give. 'You were a trial lawyer,' Chris told Darrow. 'You know the difference between a typed page and the words of a living witness.'
'I do,' Darrow replied with measured sympathy. 'But, in itself, it's not enough for me to act. There are other interests at stake . . .'
'Can we talk about this?' Terri whispered sharply.
Chris glanced up at her. 'Could you hold, Craig?' he asked. 'Just for a moment. I need a word with cocounsel.'
Quickly, he stabbed the mute button. 'What is it?'
'Dammit,' Terri burst out. 'He's not just the only real witness, he's the only living witness. Flora Lewis wasn't even there, and now she's dead.'
'So's Payton,' Chris said evenly. 'Darrow's not changing his mind on this.'
Carlo looked from his father to his stepmother.
'You raised money for this creep,' she shot back. 'You at least can push him some.'
Anger glinted in Chris's clear blue eyes. 'Back off, Terri. The day I push him it'll be for Rennell. If your habeas petition fails, Darrow's all we've got. I'm not using up my chits for Payton Price.'
Terri stared at him. 'The Governor's waiting,' Chris said with perilous calm. 'What do you want me to tell
