Mercy

similarity of the face plus the name? And the fact that this girl in America disappeared nine years ago.

It was too strong a coincidence to dismiss.

“Is anything wrong, dear?” his wife asked, entering the room.

“Nothing,” he replied. But he knew that his tone was unconvincing.

Elizabeth sidled up to him and put a comforting arm round him.

“What’s the matter?” she asked gently.

He couldn’t tell her — not yet at any rate. Maybe when he was sure. But not yet.

“Just a bit of trouble at the clinic.”

“Complications?”

She meant medical complications. The worst thing that could happen to any private clinic was medical complications leading to death or serious injury. Even if it was covered by the insurance, a successful claim could massively push up the insurance premiums, as well as damaging the reputation of the clinic and decimating its future client base.

“Not that sort. Just a bit of personnel wrangling.”

It was an intentional red herring but he regretted having said it. Firstly, he regretted lying to his wife, on principle. Secondly, he could imagine her now having visions of a cat fight between the nurses.

He went back to the kitchen to finish his coq au vin, warming it up in the microwave. But he ate quickly, not savoring it as he had before. And as soon as he had finished, he went to the living room — a quasi space-age environment of white leather, glass and chrome. Flopping down on the couch, he switched on the 50-inch LCD TV using the remote and flipped through several news channels. At first he clicked on CNN, but then remembered that Susan White had said it was Fox News.

His wife wasn’t a great one for TV and was quite happy to read a book while he surfed the channels. But his odd behavior could hardly be expected to pass without comment.

“Why the sudden interest in American news?” she asked.

Stuart kept his eyes glued to the screen.

“I just need to check up on something.”

Then he sat there watching a report about basketball. This was rolling news. If what Nurse White had said was correct, it would come round again.

He had to see for himself.

11:55 PDT

“No, Mr. Governor, I swear I didn’t leak anything to the press … I don’t know … No, sir, I’m sure it wasn’t anyone in my office … There was a guard outside the cell, but he couldn’t have heard anyth … Well yes, I suppose he might have told the guard … Okay, I’ll ask him … Yes, sir, I will get back to you.”

After hearing of Martine’s report, Alex had expected the governor to give him hell. But even he hadn’t realized just how forceful Dusenbury could be. Crucially, though, the governor had not withdrawn the clemency offer.

Alex wondered who the source of the leak was. It could have been anyone. The governor was right. A careless word from Burrow to the cell guard. A bit of gossip through the prison grapevine … and then someone decided to put in a call to the TV station.

Alex tried to put it aside. He had to focus. Nat was in his office going through the school yearbooks and checking up online to see if he could find out any more about the conflict between Dorothy and Clayton Burrow. Alex had remained with Juanita to discuss the DNA evidence further. All the while, a thought had been nagging away at him.

“Juanita, there was something you said earlier…”

“Yes?”

“About the freezer where they found the breast tissue.”

“What about it?”

“You said ‘technically it was his mother’s freezer.’”

“Well he still lived with his mother.”

“Were his parents divorced?”

“They were never married. I don’t think they even lived together.”

“So it couldn’t have been his father who killed Dorothy?”

“Not unless he suddenly came back into their lives, just long enough to murder a girl that his son bullied in school.”

She was smiling to soften the blow. But he could see how silly she thought his idea and realized himself that it was he, rather than his client, who was clutching at straws.

“What about his mother?”

“What you mean, like No orchids for Miss Blandish?”

Before Alex could reply, the intercom buzzer sounded.

“Yes?” Juanita answered.

“UPS. We have a special delivery from Sunnyvale.”

Juanita looked up.

“Dorothy’s laptop,” she said. Alex nodded. “Bring it up,” she said into the intercom, pressing the buzzer to open the door.

Five minutes later Juanita was looking through the folders and files on the laptop, while Alex was in the other room with Nat.

“Listen, I was talking to Juanita about Clayton’s mother. I think we should check her out. Clayton lived in the apartment with her and she had access to everything that he had access to.”

“Like what?” asked Nat.

“The knife he kept under his pillow, the floorboards, the freezer.”

“Yes, but she wouldn’t have had access to Dorothy. She’d’ve had to find her and either kill her and dispose of the body, or force her to some location and then kill her.”

“Well maybe she did. I mean, we don’t know when or where Dorothy was killed. Or how.”

“Not to mention the small matter of motive.”

Alex felt like he was facing a wall of resistance on all fronts.

“The point is, we don’t know enough to rule his mother out a hundred percent! And right now it’s all we’ve got!”

Nat backed off from Alex’s display of frustration.

“Okay, so how do you want to play it?”

“I want you to go over there and talk to her.”

“Where does she live?”

“San Pablo. The Circle S Mobile Home Park.”

“The one they’re closing down?”

“Right.”

“You sure she hasn’t moved on already?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

Nat grabbed his keys and jacket and was out the door within five seconds. Alex returned to the reception area to find Juanita pounding at the laptop with an unusual amount of aggression, while peering at the screen with a look of intensity that he didn’t often see in her.

“Has that computer disrespected your family?” he asked, putting on his croakiest Brando/Don Corleone accent.

She looked round, her expression a mixture of confusion and anger, to see a puerile grin on his face.

“Ha fuckin’ ha.”

Alex walked up to see what was going on.