LITMIR.BIZ

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But she seemed to want to talk about it. She jumped at the chance. She said she needed to get something off her chest. And that was when she told me that she didn’t really recognize Kelly in the lineup. The prosecutor was with her in the room, she was nervous, he was putting all kinds of pressure on her to identify her attacker.

      “She said they gave her hints about which man she was supposed to pick out, and she did it. And the more times she said it, the more sure she became in her head that he was the one. But later, after all the pressure was off, she knew she’d made a terrible mistake, that she’d sent an innocent man to prison. But she was afraid to change her statement. She was afraid she’d get into trouble—her record isn’t exactly sterling and she has reason to be afraid of the police.”

      “What makes you think she’s telling the truth now?”

      “She wasn’t lying. She had no reason to.”

      “Maybe she’s starting to feel guilty about sending a man to prison for life, even if he is guilty. Maybe she’s downplayed the severity of his crime in her mind over the years. Maybe a friend or relative went to prison for sexual assault, and now she sees the crime from a different point of view. Hell, for all you know, Kelly has been writing letters to her from prison, and they’ve fallen in love. Weirder things have happened.”

      “You wouldn’t say that if you met her. She was telling the truth. I know it.”

      “Bree. Kelly Ralston is where he belongs.”

      “You wouldn’t say that if you knew him the way I know him. He’s kind. And gentle.” She rushed ahead before he could bring up his scar again. “If he cut you, he had a reason. But he wasn’t really trying to kill you.”

      Eric looked away, only for a moment, but long enough that she knew she’d hit home.

      “It’s not even my decision to make,” Eric tried again. “Daniel has the last say.”

      “He changed his mind because you convinced him to. And you can unconvince him. Just talk to Philomene. She promised she would speak with someone from Project Justice so long as her statement didn’t go on the record. She’s committed to finding the real culprit, who’s out there somewhere, and she’s willing to undergo hypnosis or answer any questions. She just doesn’t want to talk to the police. Please, talk to her. Ten minutes. If you aren’t convinced after that, I’ll drop it.”

      “And if I don’t agree to meet with her?”

      She smiled, letting him see her teeth. “I won’t give up. I’ll be your worst nightmare.”

      Eric sighed. “All right, I’ll meet with her.”

      Bree grabbed a pad and pen from her purse and scribbled down an address. “This is the local diner, called the Home Cookin’ Café. Best meat loaf in the world. Might as well have dinner while you’re there.” She ripped off the page and handed it to him.

      “Tonight? You want to do this tonight?”

      “Sooner the better.”

      “You’ll be there, too, right?”

      “Of course. Philomene is very fragile. I wouldn’t send her to meet a strange man alone.”

      “Then I’ll see you...” He looked at the paper again. “Tuckerville?” He’d heard of it but had no idea where it was.

      “Only a couple of hours away.”

      “A couple of hours? I have a little girl at home. Evenings are the only time we have together.”

      Bree found herself smiling. “Really? How old?”

      “Six.”

      “I love that age. I’ll keep her entertained while you and Philomene chat. Heck, bring your wife, too. Make it a family outing. Tuckerville is a charming little town.”

      His features hardened. “I don’t have a wife. Look, I’ll be there. I said I would. But don’t get your hopes up.”

      “Fair enough.” She stood and gathered her things. She’d sold jewelry to help pay her living expenses in college, and she knew that when she’d made the sale, it was time to leave—before she ruined it. She was frankly surprised that Eric had agreed to meet Philomene at all. “I’ll see myself out.”

      “I’ll walk you to the door. If I don’t, Celeste will eat me for lunch.”

      “Let me guess. The lady at the front desk?”

      “That would be the one. The first thing they told me when I walked through the door yesterday morning was to do what she says, or else.”

      They retraced their steps to the lobby. Now that she was less on edge, Bree was able to take in her surroundings more. The hallway was floored in a beautiful parquet pattern, and original oil paintings lined the walls. The light fixtures were real chandeliers.

      They parted ways at the front desk. Bree shook Eric’s hand again. “See you tonight.”

      Just as she hit the door, she heard Celeste say in a loud stage whisper, “You work fast.”

      Then came Eric’s rapid denial. “It’s not a date.”

      Of course it wasn’t a date, Bree thought as she tried to remember where she’d left her car. She didn’t spend much time in the city and wasn’t used to having to park blocks away from her destination. But her heart felt lighter knowing she’d once again pulled Kelly’s case out of the ashes of destruction and blown the embers to life. And maybe because tonight she’d be seeing a certain dashing single-dad lawyer again and would find out why he was making up lies about Kelly.

      Then she was going to make sure he knew the meaning of the word justice.

      * * *

      “DADDY!” THE MOMENT Eric hit the front door of his brother’s house in Timbergrove, MacKenzie launched herself at him like a cat on a very large mouse. He scooped her up into his arms and reveled in the sweet little-girl smell of strawberry shampoo and crayons. She clung to him like a burr.

      “Hello, angel-cakes. How’s my big girl?”

      “I’m good now that you’re home.”

      Judging from the chatter going on in the kitchen, and the smell of garlic and tomatoes, his brother, Travis, was already home from work and making dinner with his wife, Elena. Between the two of them, Travis was the better cook, but Elena could whip up a few Cuban dishes from her homeland.

      He hoped they weren’t going to too much trouble, given that he was going to miss dinner.

      “Uncle Trav is making spaghetti,” MacKenzie said as Eric slid her down to the floor. She didn’t seem to want to let go of him. Once upon a time, MacKenzie had been a bright, inquisitive, fearless child. But ever since a lowlife named John Stover taught her that there were things to fear in the world, MacKenzie had been a different person—shy, timid, withdrawn. During those few times she’d been allowed to visit Eric in prison, she’d barely said a word.

      She was starting to come out of her shell now that she had her father back, but she had a long way to go. For one thing, she was excessively clingy and wanted to know where Eric was every minute. He’d warned her that he wouldn’t be home until after five o’clock, that he’d started a new job, but she’d still had a meltdown when she’d arrived home from school and found him gone. Elena, who was watching MacKenzie after school, had called Eric, and he’d been the only one who could calm her down and reassure her that he wasn’t back in prison and that he would be home soon.

      It almost killed him that he had to leave again—and all because he’d been suckered by a pair of eyes as deep as the ocean. Philomene Switzer could say whatever she wanted, but Eric wasn’t going to change his mind.

      He told himself he’d agreed to Bree’s proposition because it was the only way to get her out of his hair. She’d promised to back off if he did this one thing, and he was going to do it.

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