“Quite a speech, Doctor. Perhaps you can sell it to the press, but I remain unmoved.”
“But the blood type found at the scene of the crime in Millbrook, it…”
“It what, Dr. Coran?”
“It does not match Robert Towne's blood type!” she lied.
“Really? I'm flabbergasted.”
“So you can't possibly contemplate going ahead with this execution knowing that?”
“Like the Titanic, this ship is set on a course, and it will take an iceberg to keep it from its destination, Doctor, and your little fib about the blood test isn't quite a big enough chunk of ice, nor do I see two-year-old blood scrapings suddenly uncovered in a lab in St. Paul-quite possibly engineered by the brother out there in the hallway-”
“Christ,” she muttered. “The blood was scraped from the dead woman's nails during a formal, on-the-record exhumation overseen by a competent M.E. and one of our top agents.”
“Yes, your live-in lover, I am given to understand.”
She rankled at this. She knew any moment now she would so lose it as to be escorted out of the building. The man was infuriating. “You had me investigated, too, then.”
“I like to know with whom I am conducting business, and it appears from the casual observer that you Eastern FBI folk have some sort of pool going as to whether or not you can come clear across the country and tell us what to do in Oregon.”
“Geez, how did you ever get elected governor?”
“Good old-fashioned politicking, dear. Want that brandy now? I know from your dossier, Dr. Coran, you tend to drink a little heavy in times of stress.” He poured her a large tumbler with the emblem of state on it. “The three of you, Sharpe, Towne's brother, and yourself, Doctor, to any out-sider, you look like a crusading clique bet up out of some misguided notion gotten up at a liberal prayer meeting, like one of those Baptist revival meetings. Now take the g'damn brandy and drink.”
“Are you going to look at these other bodies, Hughes?”
He stood holding the brandy out to her, his eyebrows rising and lowering as if suggesting they get a great deal closer before he consider anything further she had to say on the subject. “Toast gets buttered on both sides in Oregon, Dr. Coran…Jessica. May I call you Jessica'?” he asked again.
“No, you may not”-she registered his shock at this- “and I'm not here to butter your toast. I believe you have Dornan to do all the buttering up you require. Now it's time for you to recognize the extraordinary detective work on the part of the accused's brother, Agent Darwin Reynolds and Agent Richard Sharpe. You vile man. All this time you've strung this out, entertaining Darwin's calls, his letters, seeing him tonight, all just a fucking game with you, all just to watch him squirm for Towne's life while you never once considered the man's innocence, not once!”
“Of course, I have! Who in his right mind… in this position… Look here, all has changed. Knowing what motivates Reynolds is blood. The man's prejudiced in the extreme. He's family. His brotherly affection for Towne is what drives him. Even Hitler had a mother someplace who likely kept saying, 'My boy couldn't possibly do such awful things.'“
“No doubt, but Towne is no Hitler, and Agent Reynolds has compiled an impressive list of items that surely must give you pause.”
“Pause is one thing, a reprieve is quite another. This state has a long-standing history of punishing the guilty, Dr. Coran, and that means carrying through with jury decisions. And who am I, one man, to overturn a jury decision?”
He let the unspoken unless hang in the air.
“You're not simply one man, sir. You represent the pinnacle of law in your state. You are governor.”
“I am quite aware of my office!”
“Then exercise it for a change!”
They glared across the crime-scene photos at one another. She finally broke the icy stare and silence, saying, “Suppose, just suppose in the next few weeks or months we can prove beyond a shadow of a DNA-fingerprinted doubt that Robert W. Towne is indeed innocent of murdering his wife in this hideous fashion, at a time when your execution machine here has already rolled on Towne? If he is summarily killed by you, by your jury, by your great state of Oregon, and the world learns of his innocence, what then? How will that play out on national TV? Do you think the sympathy vote will swing your way or to an opponent who will be only too willing to also play politics with this execution?”
“Nice speech, Doctor, but conversely, if I don't allow that switch to be pulled on time, and Towne is proved guilty once more by your precious DNA print?”
“Then what will it have hurt?”
“The integrity of this office and state! Besides, my political enemies will play that card just as quickly.”
“Do you hear yourself, Governor? You are playing politics with a man's life.”
“A confessed killer who is deemed guilty by the system. A man who refused his own defense appeal.”
“A system we know is flawed.”
“What in life isn't flawed?” He touched her, his hand going to her breast.
Jessica flinched and pulled away. “I assure you, Governor Hughes, I am not sleeping with you so that you can hold the power of your position over me. You can forget whatever cesspool notions are swimming round in your-”
Darwin pushed open the door. “You need help in here, Jess?”
“No, no Darwin. We're just getting a little heated on the debate here. Wait outside now, go!”
She watched Hughes watch Darwin go quietly back outside. “You've certainly got him well trained. You could train me, Jess, and afterward, we can talk about this Towne affair in more… shall we say depth.”
“We have a DNA comparison… from blood found in Minnesota during the exhumation, blood not the victim's, blood that proves it could not have been Towne who-”
“Killed some woman in Minnesota. We are in Oregon, darling. It does not sway me. Too many variables. The so-called evidence has passed through too many hands, too many opportunities to taint it, and one too many relatives involved in gathering this evidence.”
“No way, this comes directly from Cellmark of St.-”
“Do you have any idea what kind of crucifixion I would have to endure if Towne is shown mercy?”
“Just postpone it. Just do it. Do the right thing.”
His response was to again attempt to put his hands on her. She backed along the table, lifting the autopsy photos and files she'd dumped there. “I think we're through here.”
He placed a hand over hers. “Of course, I will look at any new and compelling evidence you bring me, Dr. Coran, the operative words being new' and 'compelling'. And I will entertain your suggestions, but I cannot promise you or Agent Reynolds anything. Is that understood?”
“Be open to the new evidence that is on the way from Minnesota as we speak,” she calmly replied. “That is all I ask.”
He pressed in against her when suddenly Mrs. Dornan stepped in. “It's your wife, Governor, on line one. She's insistent, sir.”
Hughes had backed off with a calm born of practice when Dornan had broken the silence in the room. Hughes loudly said to Jessica, “So far, I see nothing in my possession that warrant's a stay of execution. I'm sorry.” To Dornan he added, “I'll get it, Agnes.”
“I was just leaving,” Jessica said, joining Dornan for the exit.
“When your Agent Sharpe arrives from Minnesota, I will gladly look over any new information that warrants my attention, Dr. Coran.”
She thanked him from the safety of the door.
When they were on the other side of the door, Dornan said to Jessica, “It can't be easy on James… ahhh… the governor. It's so troubling, this whole matter of holding a man's life in one's palm.”
Yeah, unless you get a kick out of it, Jessica thought but only said, “Some phantom killer running loose over the moors doesn't seem to bother him in the least. What about you, Mrs. Dornan?”
“Sometimes the facts don't make for good copy for any of us. The idea that a man can do such a thing to a woman with impunity and… and remain free to roam, but somewhere in all of it… someone must pay.”