LITMIR.BIZ

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least Eldon wasn’t married when you met him. You were already making a better life, working your way through college, when you met Eldon. You weren’t on the prowl for a rich husband.”

      How did Ford know so much about her and Trina?

      “I didn’t say I admired Trina. But I understand why she wanted Eldon. And I understand why he wanted her. Eldon has a pattern of taking on projects—young, unsophisticated, impoverished girls he could mold and improve. Once I was improved, at least enough that his mother quit badgering him to divorce me, he lost interest.”

      “Do you still love him?”

      The question hung between them longer than it should have. Her answer should have been immediate—no. But she wanted to answer Ford just right.

      “I’ll always be grateful for the things Eldon did for me. He paid for my last two years of college. He encouraged me to get my teaching certificate. And he gave me Justin. Those two and a half years I spent as a mother were the best of my life.

      “But I no longer love my ex-husband in a romantic way. He hurt me too deeply for that.”

      On that note, Ford ended his questions. He’d been nosy, and he’d gotten more than he bargained for—a glimpse of the raw pain Robyn had until now kept carefully hidden.

      Not for the first time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing in pursuing Eldon Jasperson’s freedom. He wouldn’t take this case to the governor unless he was damn sure—a hundred percent sure—Jasperson was innocent. That was a pretty high standard. There was no way he would be responsible for putting another murderer—a child killer—out on the street.

      If he bailed on the case, which was a definite possibility, he would dash Robyn’s hopes and prove to her once again that she couldn’t count on anyone. Getting involved in this was a mistake, but it was too late now to back out.

      They arrived at Huntsville State Prison in plenty of time for the appointment Ford had arranged. Of course, they had to go through the usual security rigmarole. They were searched and scanned more thoroughly than a suspected terrorist at an airport, and then they were given a list of rules, verbally and in writing, detailing everything they couldn’t do during the visit.

      This was old hat to Ford. He’d visited more than one death row inmate since starting with Project Justice. But Robyn had probably not gone through this before. An inmate on death row was seldom allowed visitors, usually only with a compelling reason. Robyn was clearly nervous—she’d already chewed off her carefully applied lipstick and hadn’t bothered to put on more.

      When the guards were positive Ford and Robyn weren’t packing a stun gun or bolt cutters, they were walked down one depressing corridor after another until they reached Cell Block H. There was no sign declaring it to be death row, but everyone knew what Cell Block H was.

      They were shown to a room with a large table and four chairs bolted to the floor.

      “Jasperson will be brought in shortly,” one of the guards said.

      When they were alone again, Robyn jumped out of her chair and paced. “I thought we would visit him through one of those windows with telephones—you know, kind of like in the movies.”

      “Are you nervous about seeing him face-to-face?”

      She flashed a guilty, nervous smile. “Terrified. I haven’t seen him in years. Trina says he isn’t holding up well.”

      “Sit down,” Ford said. “You heard the rules. We have to stay in our chairs.”

      “Sorry.” She slid back into her seat, then clenched her hands in front of her on the scarred metal table.

      A few moments later, a guard escorted Eldon Jasperson into the room wearing shackles on both hands and feet, and Ford got his first good look at the man since the trial, when he was more familiar to Houstonians than the hottest Hollywood celebrity. Though Ford knew prison was hard on the inmates, he wasn’t prepared to see a gaunt man with thinning gray hair and sallow skin. In the eight years of incarceration, he’d aged twenty.

      The guard seated his prisoner in a chair across the table from them and chained him to it. Jasperson’s gaze was on Robyn—and it was hungry. A surge of protectiveness welled up in Ford, so strong it stole the air out of his lungs.

      “Robyn.” Jasperson’s voice was low, cultured. “This is a surprise.”

      “Hi, Eldon.” She sounded soft, comforting, full of emotion. “I’ve brought someone to see you—someone who might be able to help.”

      Eldon spared a quick, dismissive glance for Ford. “Another lawyer?”

      “I’m an investigator with Project Justice. Ford Hyatt.” Ford nodded, since they weren’t allowed to shake hands. “Are you familiar with Project Justice?”

      Eldon’s interest ratcheted up a notch. “You’re the folks who get innocent people out of jail.”

      “Sometimes.” Ford spent a couple of minutes telling him the basics of how the foundation worked and his role there. “Robyn brought your case to my attention. I’d heard of it, of course. But I hadn’t realized how many unanswered questions remained. The information she provided was compelling enough for me to want to look into it.”

      “A little late, isn’t it?”

      “We’re often the avenue of last resort. Mr. Jasperson, I’ll get right to the point. I’ve read the police report, and I have strong reason to believe you were not alone the night Justin disappeared.”

      Fear and surprise flashed briefly in Eldon’s sullen gray eyes, but he quickly hid his reaction. Not quickly enough, however. Ford knew he was on to something.

      “Why would you think something like that? If anyone could back up my story, don’t you think I’d have said something?”

      “Why did you order a large, half-and-half pizza?” Ford asked.

      He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Because I was hungry? Who the hell told you what kind of pizza I ordered? Why would anyone care about such a stupid detail?”

      “It was in the police report,” Ford replied. “Police often ask for small details when they’re questioning victims or witnesses—or potential suspects. The details will trip people up.”

      “Or help them out,” Robyn said. “Eldon, you ordered a large pizza, half black olives. You hate black olives.”

      “That’s just not true.” But he swallowed several times. The questions were making him nervous.

      Ford continued to push. “Mr. Jasperson, I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t tell us who you were with. Whatever your reasons for keeping that secret—surely they don’t matter anymore. You have nothing to lose.”

      “I’d like to help, believe me,” Jasperson said politely. “But I was alone.”

      Robyn banged one fist on the metal table. “You were cheating on Trina while she was away at a conference,” she said, suddenly harsh. “Why can’t you admit that?”

      “Where would you get such a foolish idea?” Jasperson sounded less polite now.

      “Because you cheated on me. And I know what it looks like. I watched the video of your interrogation, and I know the look that was on your face. I’ve seen it before—when you’d been with Trina and you were trying to hide it from me.”

      He sat up straighter, defiant. “Maybe I looked guilty on that video because I killed our son.”

      Ford expected Robyn to flinch at the words, but she came right back at him. “I know damn well you would never have hurt Justin. Tell me who she is.”

      Robyn and her ex-husband stared at each other, challenging, until Ford was sure blue sparks would fly between them. But finally Eldon looked away, defeated. “I can’t find her,” he said softly. “I saw no reason to involve her at

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