The room was hypnotized, hanging on every word.
“So he hired a private detective from New York. Behind the poor man’s back, even behind his own father’s back, because his own father didn’t know where he had really come from. The parents never told him. But the grandson had to check it out. And when he did, he learned the truth. He was the old man’s grandson!”
“Damn!” Gardner said. Poor, dear Henry.
“This revelation made him angry. Very angry. He couldn’t let it stand. He devised a plan. Hook up with a local thug who worked at the school. Become his pal. Offer him money to drive down to the poor folks’ store one day. It was a great setup. There was even a resemblance between the two. But why not? It was his own flesh and blood. His own cousin. Blue-eyed, and dark-haired, and all—”
“No!” Starke screamed.
“Gag him!” Hanks told the deputy.
There was a brief struggle and IV Starke suddenly had his mouth stuffed with a handkerchief.
“So they went to the store, and the grandson obliterated his past with two bullets from a special gun. A unique weapon that the rich man had used during the war. The grandson stole it from the family gun collection and used it to kill his real grandparents. And then, later, he killed Purvis Bowers to shut him up. He was afraid Purvis knew the truth about the relationship and was going to tell the police. And the whole scheme would have worked. No one would have ever known. But there was an unexpected interruption. A child ran in—”
“And he tried to kill him,” Roscoe Miller yelled suddenly, standing and pointing to Starke. “I tried to stop it, knocked the gun up, and the bullet hit the wall—”
“Object!” Joel Jacobs said.
“You can speak, Mr. Miller.” Judge Hanks said.
“Bastard threatened to kill me!” Roscoe snorted. “And I believed him! But I don’t give a damn anymore!” His eyes blazed with righteous anger.
Starke glared back at him and tried to speak through the gag, but no words came out.
King stood and faced Gardner. “Ready to talk plea?”
Gardner’s head was reeling. A few minutes ago he was ready to terminate Miller with his bare hands. Now they were talking plea bargain. “Accessory,” Gardner said.
King nodded and put out his hand to Gardner. “Deal.”
Gardner returned the handshake, and looked at the judge. “I request that we conclude these proceedings, Judge. There will be a plea regarding Roscoe Miller’s case, and we’ll be resubmitting Starke’s case to the Grand Jury on multiple murder charges. I also request that he be held without bond in the meantime.”
Jacobs stood up shakily. “You can’t do that,” he said.
Judge Hanks smiled. “Oh yes I can. Mr. Starke is remanded to the custody of the sheriff without bond. I hereby declare a mistrial on all charges against both defendants. Pending new indictments or plea agreements, trial dates will be reset. Court is adjourned!”
Bedlam returned to the courtroom. The sheriffs hauled out Starke. King and Miller were gloating. And Joel Jacobs looked like he’d just been shot.
“Can you come up here, Mr. Lawson?” Judge Hanks called from the bench. “And bring your son.”
Gardner and Granville walked up to the platform.
“I just wanted to compliment the young man,” Hanks said. “It took a lot of bravery to do what he did.”
Gardner nudged Granville’s arm. “Say thanks, son.”
“Thank you,” the boy replied.
“You’re welcome,” Judge Hanks said.
Brownie came down from the stand and patted Granville on the back. “You did a super job, boy,” he said.
Granville’s face was still pale, but he managed another smile.
Gardner turned away from the bench, seized Brownie’s hand, and simultaneously grabbed Jennifer around the waist. “You two are the best,” he said, “the absolute best. Thanks for getting me through.”
“You can be a pain sometimes,” Brownie said, “but you’re okay.”
“Congratulations, Gard,” Jennifer added.
Then Gardner bent down to Granville’s eye level. “You are really something,” he said. “A very strong young man. I’m so proud of you!”
Granville put his arms around Gardner’s neck. “Did we get the bad guy, Dad?”
“We got him, Gran, with your help. He’s never going to hurt anyone again.” Gardner stood up and took Granville’s hand. And the two of them led the entourage out of Bowers Corner, into the light of the summer day.
epilogue
“Hit it, Dad!” Granville called.
It was late October, and the leaves were turning red. The air was warm, but the chill of night still clung to the turf. Gardner and Granville were in the park, playing baseball for the last time before the ground froze. The boy was living with his mother again, and this was a visitation day.
The Bowers cases were finally over. Roscoe Miller had entered a guilty plea to accessory to murder, and received a five-year sentence in the county detention center. His testimony had cemented first-degree murder convictions against Starke and guaranteed three consecutive life sentences. Starke’s cases were still pending appeal, but Gardner wasn’t worried. Brownie’s evidence had rendered them airtight. There was no way Starke could buy his way out.
Ironically, Kent King had lost the Bowers’ money. Roscoe had finally filed a claim to the estate, and because he’d only been convicted of a misdemeanor, he was permitted to collect. When he got out of prison, he was going to be rich. King wouldn’t get a cent.
The saddest part had been meeting Wellington Starke III, IV’s father. His tearful plea for leniency had been heartrending, but Gardner didn’t flinch. Fathers and sons could be an unbeatable combination. For good or for evil. Gardner had to tell the father no.
“Hit it, Dad!” Granville called again.
Gardner looked at his son. He was in his ready stance. Primed, and raring to go. He had on his Orioles warmup jacket and cap.
Gardner raised the bat and cracked the ball hard. It was a sinking line drive, streaking down the field.
The boy took off at first contact, and raced to intercept it. Gardner held his breath. He’d never make it. The ball was falling too fast.
Granville was at top speed now, still ten feet away from the ball.
Gardner scolded himself silently for hitting it so hard. Granville was too small, too inexperienced for one that tough.
Suddenly the boy dived, and stretched, and fell.
“Gran!” Gardner called with alarm.
Granville rolled over two times and leaped to his feet, holding his glove high in the air. The ball was neatly tucked in the web.
“Way to go!” Gardner cheered, jumping up and down. “Way to go, Gran! That was major league! Best catch you ever made! Best catch you ever made!”
Granville smiled, and heaved back the ball. “Hit me another!” he said.
“AS GRANVILLE WATCHED IN HORROR, THE GUN WENT OFF…”
The savage, senseless shooting of two elderly shopkeepers shocks neighbors and police, yet no one is more shaken than county prosecutor Gardner Lawson—for the state’s sole witness is his eight-yearold son. So traumatized is the boy that he can remember nothing.
Then a town bully is spotted near the crime scene. He responds suspiciously under questioning, and Gardner is positive the state has found its man. Then he digs deeper, and starts to unearth a tangled trail of lies leading to an unspeakable secret. Soon Gardner must try to help his child face the nightmarish truth as he himself is torn between his thirst for justice and his primal parental drive to protect his boy. And as the killer roams dangerously free…
“TANTALIZING PLOT TURNS.”
—Publishers Weekly
An Alternate Selection of Doubleday Book Club® and of The Literary Guild®
GALLATIN WARFIELD earned his law degree from the University of Maryland Law School. He is a former Assistant Attorney General in the criminal division of the Maryland Attorne
y General’s office and former chief felony prosecutor in the Howard County, Maryland, State’s Attorney’s office.
Silent Son Page 36
