“But we must not execute Towne for the actions of this fiend or our failure to recognize our shortcomings.”
Mrs. Dornan bridled at this as if it were a personal attack on her. “I'm sure Governor Hughes will see your Agent Sharpe and the two of you again when and if you come bearing something in the nature of new and compelling evidence. What other step can he take?”
Jessica nodded and took in a deep breath. “Agreed, and thank you, Mrs. Dornan. Do keep the light burning for us.” “You make a persuasive opponent, Doctor. Most persuasive. Debate society?”
“When in college, yes.”
“Impressive. Perhaps you ought to teach young Reynolds a thing or two about negotiations.”
“Yes, I will do that.”
Jessica left the governor's personal assistant, not believing she'd made any headway with either her or Hughes. She found Darwin pacing the outer hallway like an expectant father.
“What'd he say? What's the upshot of it all? Tell me.”
“He's going to give Richard Sharpe a hearing as soon as he arrives.”
“What about all that we brought him, the theory, the pattern, the blood type?”
“He's not interested in theories and patterns, Darwin, or tests not yet performed. He wants-”
“But it's a pattern crime, and it's going to be repeated as sure as we're standing here.”
“He needs hard, irrefutable evidence, Darwin. And we've got to pray Richard's found it.”
“We still need to compare whatever Sharpe finds in Millbrook with Robert's DNA strand, and we're running out of fucking time, Jess.”
“I know that, Darwin. I know.”
“Get on the phone with Sharpe. Find out where the hell he's at. Get-”
She raised up both hands to him. “Whoa up, Darwin. Calm down! We're going to get Richard here in time. We have to.”
“Call him.”
“When we are back at the inn, I'll call him, and I'll let you know when we can expect to get out to the airport to greet him. Meanwhile, we'll have the local FBI lab prepped and ready to do the blood typing and the DNA match, so it does not look like the fix is in.”
Darwin visibly calmed, nodding. “OK… OK…” “We've got the governor to agree to this step. We're batting a thousand, Darwin,” she lied.
“That'd be great if this was a fucking baseball game.”
Darwin stormed off ahead of her, going out the huge doors and into the Oregon night. She dropped her head and sighed. In a moment, she found him on the mansion steps, seated, head in hands, slumped and quietly holding back tears. Jessica allowed him a peaceful moment before sitting alongside and placing an arm over his shoulder.
He muttered, “Robert doesn't deserve this… doesn't deserve any of this.”
“I know… I know… He's his own worst enemy, Darwin. If he'd gone for appeal, we'd have had months to prove him innocent.”
“The blood test'll prove it. Hell, I know it will. Then they've gotta listen.”
She allowed him this, his final illusion. Secretly, she prayed Richard would somehow miraculously be waiting for them at the inn with the DNA strand they so needed.
Later the same night at the Minneapolis Airport
“I can't believe I missed the fucking plane out of here,” Richard Sharpe complained to Brannan.
“Hey, there's another one in a couple of hours. At least you've got the goods from the lab, right?”
“Not exactly, no.”
“Whataya mean, 'no'?” Brannan replied with a short inward gasp that spoke of a developing ulcer.
“They're going to hot-wire the results over the Internet to the FBI lab in Portland. It's the best I could do under the circumstances. Just hope it's not too late.”
“I'll stay behind… sit on 'em for you.”
“That might help. Thanks, Brannan.” “Hey, this was my case first.”
Sharpe nodded. “Dr. Howland says they simply need more time and can't perform miracles.”
“What exactly can they hot-wire over the Net that will be useful to create a match-or hopefully a mismatch- with the DNA sample here?”
“Basic results. A replica of the DNA strand. Definitely something they can match up with what Oregon has on our man on death row.”
“OK, all right… good… You did well, here, Sharpe. Don't berate yourself. Go on to Portland with the blood-type confirmation, and don't worry. I'll stay on Howland and her people.”
“Buy you dinner?”
“Nah, better get back. No decent food in the whole damn airport, and besides I'm off fast foods-fries, soft drinks. Doc's orders.”
They shook hands again.
“Sorry you gotta fly commercial, that your field office couldn't get you a lift.”
“It'll be all right. I just have to fly to San Francisco and make a connecting flight to Portland. Seems crazy, but there you have it.” Sharpe waved him off.
“I miss my days of the red-eye flights,” Brannan shouted over his shoulder.
“Not me,” muttered Sharpe.
Even though Brannan looked to be earnestly shuffling off, the Millbrook detective turned and held up a thoughtful index finger to his temple. “Hey, pal. You mean to tell me that you informed the Minneapolis field office what this is all about, and still they couldn't get you out on something?”
“ 'Fraid so.”
“I used to be a detective in Houston, Texas, you know. Did a lot of extradition work, flying all over for the job. You think to try Flying Tigers?”
“The cargo-transport people?” “I've used them on occasion. They can be quite cooperative with law enforcement. Most of 'em are gung-ho retired military.”
“I'll give it a go.”
Sharpe, with time to kill, went in search of the Flying Tigers hangar. As he made his way through the terminal and out on the tarmac, guided by a security guard, he telephoned Jessica in Portland.
Jessica brought Richard up to date with the bad news about the stubborn idiocy of Governor Hughes. She did not want to tell him about the man's leering advances. She didn't want either Darwin or Richard to go rushing at Hughes like an angry pair of bulls. They hadn't as yet played every card, and they might need J. J.'s dubious help somewhere down the line.
“Just pray the lab has the DNA map done and forwarded by time you get here,” she told him, putting a finger to his image on the phone screen.
“I take it you've softened up the governor for our presentation.”
“You have no idea.”
“You mean he's at least willing to entertain the idea we may have uncovered new evidence and to give us a fair hearing?”
“Let's just say he's willing to listen.”
“I see. Everything hinges on the outcome of tests here. I wish we had more time.”
“Mean time this waiting period.”
“I know it's hard on you, Jess.”
“Swore I wouldn't get this emotionally involved but it's so easy to fall into it, you know?”
“Of course I do. And what's the alternative for people who do what we do, love? I certainly don't wish to return to the jaded, cold, unfeeling person I was before… well, before we met.”
“Nor I… Nor I.”
“How's Darwin holding up?”
“Convinced him to take a couple of my sleeping pills. He's out for now. It's particularly hard on him.” Jessica again brought up that Towne was in fact Darwin's half brother.
She watched as Richard stepped into a hangar and waved down someone.
“Have you given any thought, Jess, to what happens if the tests match Robert Towne's DNA? Putting his DNA under Louisa Childe's nails in that coffin all this time?”
“While I've given that possibility little air time in my brain, I admit it has floated in and out, yes. But damn it, I've come to trust Darwin's instincts, his knowledge of his brother.”
“I love you, Jess, and will see you when I get in tomorrow late, unless I can get help here from the Flying Tigers freight people. If you don't hear from me, assume around six-thirty tomorrow night.”
“God, Richard, why so late?”