“Thank you, Denise,” Colchester said to his assistant. “Hold my calls, will you, please?”
Denise gave a nod that bordered on being a bow, and backed her way out of the office. Colchester pulled out a chair and motioned for Julie to take a seat at the round conference table. Polite, chivalrous, and all an act, Julie believed.
“I must say your call took my breath away,” Colchester began. “You say you have important information to share about my son’s murderer?”
He said it “murder-ah.” Here at the State House the Boston accent was a mark of authenticity, and those who had it owned it with pride.
Julie collected her thoughts. The feeling of a man lurking behind her was nothing but a trick of the mind. Reaching into her purse, Julie took out the picture the stranger had slipped into her coat pocket and laid it faceup on the conference table.
Colchester examined the photo closely. “That’s you,” he said. “Is that your son?”
“That’s what somebody put in my coat pocket a few hours ago. Somebody who didn’t appreciate that I was looking into the possible innocence of Brandon Stahl.”
Colchester flinched. The glint in his brown eyes dimmed. “I don’t understand. What’s this about?”
“It’s about a man who threatened me and my son because of a conversation I had with Brandon Stahl in prison, but I suspect you already know that.”
Colchester interlaced his long fingers and rested his hands on his desk.
“I’m sorry, I’m still lost. I canceled an important budget meeting because you said you had information about my son’s killer. That was the message to me.”
“Well, my message to you is this. Did you send someone to harass me? I want the truth.”
Julie was shaking again. The rage had returned with a vengeance.
Colchester leaned back in his chair and gave her a hard stare. “I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating, Dr. Devereux. Now, if you have new information about Donald’s killer, I want to hear it. But the right man is in jail. He was tried and convicted.”
“Then why did you agree to meet with me?”
“Because anything about my boy takes priority,” Colchester said, his voice gaining volume. “Anything, even people who I suspect came here to throw their misguided views about mercy killing right in my face.”
“Excuse me?”
It was Julie’s turn to be baffled.
“You think I’d schedule an impromptu meeting with someone without getting a background first? I read up on you. I know what you stand for. I know you think my son’s in a better place. But you’re wrong. Brandon Stahl had no right to take my son’s life. Now, I’m sure losing the appeal got you and your activist friends all rattled. But let me tell you something. For what he did to me and my family, infinity isn’t enough time.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Julie needed a moment to collect her thoughts.
She said, “I think you’re worried I’m going to find out what really happened to your son, and you don’t want to see Brandon walk a free man. Why else would you harass me?”
Colchester brought his hands to his lap. If he reached for his desk phone, the call, Julie knew, would get her escorted from the building.
“Harass you? I don’t even know you.”
“You knew about my meeting with Brandon. Somebody at Cedar Junction tipped you off. Which means you know I have medical evidence that could link your son’s death to the same rare heart disorder that killed my fiancé. Brandon says he never gave your son morphine, and I’m starting to believe him. Maybe you put the morphine in his apartment. Somebody framed Brandon and we both know it. Same as we know Sherri Platt lied about hearing Brandon offer to kill your son. You paid her off, didn’t you?”
Colchester’s face went red with anger. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“You’re lying. You’re afraid I’m going to blow this whole thing wide open and that’ll put you and Sherri in a lot of hot water. Were the two of you having an affair?”
“I never!”
“Why didn’t you want your son’s body exhumed?”
“Excuse me?”
“One moment you’re fine with it and the next you’re filing motions to oppose. Why?”
“You have a son, Dr. Devereux. How would you like to see him dug up after you’ve buried him?”
Julie cleansed the gruesome image from her mind.
“I find it an interesting coincidence that Justice Josephson landed a plum state appointment not long after the trial. And weren’t you chair on the Joint Committee on the Judiciary back then?”
“I don’t appreciate the insinuation,” Colchester said. “I conduct myself to the highest ethical standards and I find it highly disingenuous to use my son’s name so you can berate me with your unsubstantiated and wildly outlandish accusations.”
Julie said, “What I’m saying may be unsubstantiated, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. I don’t know why you want to see an innocent man rot in jail, but let me be blunt about something. If you ever send someone to threaten me again, I’ll go to the police and file a formal complaint against you for violating my constitutional rights. And let’s see how much your constituents like seeing you as the lead story on the six o’clock news.”
Colchester was incensed. “Are you threatening me?”
“Not according to the law,” Julie said as she stood up from the table. “I hope I won’t be hearing from you or your-associate, again.”
She opened the office door and walked out of the room.
CHAPTER 30
Julie headed in the direction of the parking garage with her head lowered to shield her from the cold, biting wind. Early afternoon, and it was dark as midnight already. She missed the autumn even though the official start of winter was still several weeks away. The shorter days and longer nights made everything harder, including making phone calls outside. Julie needed to reach Sherri Platt, right away, but doubted she could get a cell signal down in the garage. The wind was making the outdoors incredibly unpleasant.
Julie took shelter in a store alcove and dialed White Memorial’s main number from memory. An operator patched her through to oncology, where Sherri had transferred after Donald Colchester’s death. The duty nurse checked the shift schedule: Sherri was off and would not be back until morning. Julie pulled the doctor card, said it was important, and got Sherri’s cell phone number. Home numbers these days were anachronistic.
What Julie needed now was a place to make her phone call. Eventually, she found a warm place inside Emmet’s Irish Pub. The noise level made it hard to hear and the smell of Irish coffee proved more than a little tempting. Julie could use a drink, just one, to settle nerves frayed from three intense back-to-back encounters-the stranger, the trooper, and the legislator. She found a quieter nook at the back of the bar and made a call that went straight to voicemail.
“Sherri, it’s Dr. Julie Devereux. I’m sure you remember me from the other day. Listen, I know what happened to you. At least I think I do. William Colchester forced you into testifying against Brandon, didn’t he? You never overheard Brandon speaking to Donald Colchester. I’m not saying you took a payment or anything, but I suspect the representative used some sort of intimidation. He did so with me. I was nearly attacked at a roadside stop earlier this afternoon. We need to stand together on this, Sherri. I need your help setting right what I think is wrong. I believe now there’s a real possibility Brandon is an innocent man, and Donald Colchester’s death may be linked to the same thing that killed my fiancé. We need to talk. Please, Sherri. You have to do the right thing here.”
Julie left her number. Had she said enough? Brandon’s life might well depend on it. The next stop Julie made was to the bar, where she ordered an Irish coffee. She’d had three sips of a truly magnificent beverage when her phone rang. Julie’s heart leapt. It had to be Sherri calling back.