by Ace Collins
His cell phone rang.
“Lije here.”
It was Diana Curtis.
“What? You mean you’re coming back to babysit me again? I don’t care who ordered it, I …” Lije paused. He’d been looking for a way to get past the media and to interview key people. She had the channels to find out information he needed. All he had to do was convince her to use those channels.
“Can’t argue with the governor,” he said. “But listen, I need to make a trip to Little Rock. Why don’t I meet you there? Maybe we could ride back together once I finish my business in town. I’m going to head back to Salem in a few minutes, pick up my Prius, and will call you when I’m finished with my work.”
Lije hung up, tapped in a few numbers, and waited.
“Kent, Lije here. I need a favor.”
KENT MCGEE HAD MORE CONTACTS THAN ANYONE LIJE had ever known. In and out of the courtroom, he was always pulling rabbits out of a hat. The legal magic was as much about his being well connected as it was about his talent. Yet to have arranged on short notice a visit to the Varner death-row facility in Grady had to be his best stunt yet. Best of all, McGee had promised that the press and the ABI would learn nothing of the trip. Lije was one of the few people ever thrilled to be on his way to the death house.
He arrived in Grady just after five. He met with Warden Jeff Charles at a local highway rest stop and was given the rules for the clandestine meeting with condemned killer Jonathon Jennings. The warden had arranged for Lije to meet with Jennings in a large and open room. This was unusual, but the warden believed the prisoner would be more likely to respond in such an environment. Lije would have up to an hour to obtain the information he needed. Except for a handshake, there was to be no contact between the two men. And since Jennings was thought to be no threat to anyone, he would not be shackled. A guard would be watching through two-way glass, and if at any time the prisoner did make any kind of threatening move, security would quickly move to address the situation.
After agreeing to the terms, Lije was ushered to a plain white cargo van, and he and the warden were driven to the Varner facility. The only conversation during the ten-minute drive was a warning from the warden.
“Mr. Evans, Jennings is anything but stable. He’s not violent, but his mind is deteriorating at an alarming rate. The other inmates call him the screamer. If Kent were not one of my best friends, I wouldn’t allow you to visit. But he swears you might be able to help clear an innocent woman with knowledge Jennings might have. I hope so, but I doubt it. His brain is pretty mushy and his memory is hardly reliable.”
Those words made Lije wonder if he had come all this way and would learn nothing. But they weren’t enough to dissuade him from moving forward. Jennings had to know something that was not in the news stories. To have murdered someone over the land, he had to know what made Swope’s Ridge such a prize. If he didn’t, then who did?
Lije was processed by guards. He was searched for weapons, drugs, and other prohibited items—he even had to give up his comb—then was escorted into a large white room. In the middle of the room, the staff had placed two plastic chairs. Lije was directed to one of them; the other sat four feet away.
Under stark fluorescent lights, he waited. The room felt oppressive, yet he couldn’t determine why. There was no antiseptic odor. In fact, there was no smell at all. The air didn’t move. It was like being in a vacuum or a tomb. A sense of hopelessness and death pressed in from every side. No wonder Jennings was going mad. Who wouldn’t?
Lije was beginning to develop his own version of a panic attack when Jennings entered the room. He was short, pale, and unnaturally thin. His pale green eyes seemed to involuntarily and constantly jump from side to side. His face was so thin it appeared as if his bones might cut through the skin at any moment.
A guard walked with Jennings to the empty chair, had him sit down, then bent over and released the handcuffs. Jennings kept his head low until after the guard had left the room. Then he slowly lifted his eyes to study his guest.
“Mr. Jennings,” Lije began gently, “I’m Lije Evans.”
“I know,” came the response. “I used to see you on the streets of Salem from time to time.” He paused a moment, seemingly lost in a memory. “The warden told me you needed to meet with me, but I don’t understand why.”
“It’s about Swope’s Ridge.”
The mention of the property sent Jennings’ eyes back toward the floor. It was obvious this was the last thing he wanted to discuss. Even four hours and one hundred and sixty miles away, the property still had a grip on him.
Lije continued, “My wife bought the property from Micah Dean’s widow. My wife’s now dead, shot by someone, and I don’t know who or why. I think it has something to do with the Ridge.”
Jennings’ head jerked up and he stared at Lije. “I’m sorry.” The words were sincere. He was sorry.
“And I’m sorry about what’s about to happen to you,” Lije replied.
Jennings’ voice was suddenly stronger. “I didn’t kill him, you know. I threatened him that night, but I didn’t kill him.”
He sounded truthful. Of course, most of those who claimed their innocence sounded sincere. But why would he lie now? He had nothing to gain.
“If you’re innocent, then why haven’t you made any appeals?Why are you walking to your death without a fight?”
“No one told you?”
“No.”
“When I’m closed in, I can’t breathe. I can’t even move. I scream, I cry, and I pray to die just to escape the pressure pressing down on every part of my body. In here, sitting in that tiny cell … Unless they knock me out with meds, I scream and cry all day, every day. Been like that week after week, month after month. If I can’t be free, then I can’t wait until dying releases me from this hell on earth.” His eyes filled with terror.
Lije nodded. “But if you’re innocent …”
Jennings vigorously shook his head. “It’s not about innocence anymore. Next Wednesday the nightmares will stop. I haven’t felt any peace in two years.”
MAYBE THERE WERE THINGS WORSE THAN DEATH. LIJE couldn’t begin to fathom what the man’s last twenty-four months must have been like, but he found it easy to understand why he’d want the horror to end.
“Would you answer a few questions, Mr. Jennings? I think your answers might help me figure out who killed my wife. And if not who, maybe at least why she was murdered.”
“I’ll try to help,” Jennings whispered. “If you find that person, you’ll probably find the one who shot Micah Dean. I’d like to think that someday my name could be cleared.”
Hearing those words, delivered in such a genuine manner, Lije believed him. “What was so important about Swope’s Ridge?”
“Mr. Evans, for years I’ve tried to figure that out and, honestly, I don’t know. Robert Smith told me his boss wanted to develop the land, but he never spelled out what that meant. When Micah Dean refused to deal with me, I offered Smith several other pieces of property that would’ve been far better than the Ridge for any kind of development. Smith insisted that his boss had to have Swope’s Ridge and the price didn’t matter. So I kept going back to Dean with new offers. Dean wouldn’t listen to any of them.”
“Who was Smith’s boss?”
“I have no idea. Smith wouldn’t tell me, and I asked, a couple times. He did provide proof that the man had the money to make the deal.”
“Nothing he said gave you a clue who was behind this venture?”
“No.” Jennings paused, then after bringing a finger to his lips, contradicted himself. “Well, there might have been one. That last visit, his cell phone rang and he went outside for privacy. I moved over to the door to try to catch a bit of the conversation. Smith wasn’t talking in English. He was talking in German.”
“Could you make out any of the words? ” Lije asked.
“No. Just recognized that it was German.”
“Did Smith ever mention anything
about the legend Dean was chasing?”
“You mean the Jesse James gold stash?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think that was even on Smith’s radar. Not with what they were willing to pay for the Ridge. The gold wouldn’t have been worth that much. I figured the property had great value for some other reason, but nothing connected to legends. The money this guy was offering told me he knew what made the property extremely valuable and had a firm idea how to realize that value.”
Lije leaned back. Sounded plausible. But nothing Jennings had said seemed to provide a motive for Kaitlyn’s death. What could be so valuable? The mystery had to be on Swope’s Ridge. Lije decided he and Curtis would be taking a field trip. She would hate that. “Do you think they killed Dean?”
“I’ve always assumed it was Smith or the guy who was always with him. I saw Smith the day before. When I talked with him, it was obvious there was pressure on him to deliver, and Dean was the roadblock. When I left my last meeting with Dean, he was alive and standing in his barn. I called Smith and told him it was no go. Less than an hour later, Dean was discovered dead. In the barn. Not long after that, one of my shirts was found in my home with Dean’s blood on it. But I hadn’t been home yet. I left Dean’s place and returned to my office. So the only thing I can guess is that Smith set me up, figured he could buy the land from Dean’s widow.”
Lije nodded. “No way to prove your alibi?”
“None. Just my word. I’ve thought about the Ridge a lot. Micah was passionate about that land. He may have first wanted it because he thought it would make him rich. But as I talked with him, I learned something. I learned why he wouldn’t sell. His goal had changed. He no longer cared about the money from the treasure. Instead, he was obsessed with finding the gold to justify his compulsion. He wanted everyone to know he hadn’t been a fool. Wanted everyone to know the truth about the Ridge. And he died before the truth was known. I’ll die next, in just a few days now, with my own obsession nipping at my heels. I just want to clear my name. Neither of us deserved to pay for that land with our lives. Whatever it is out there simply can’t be that important.”
Lije felt a strong sense of urgency to uncover the mystery on Swope’s Ridge, not only to find Kaitlyn’s killer but now to help save Jennings. “I read your file on the way over. The warden bent some rules and allowed me to see it. Seems those prosecuting the case didn’t believe Smith actually existed. They said you made him up.”
“No one ever saw him besides me. I can see their point.”
“A lawyer in Hardy talked to him on the phone,” Lije said.
“How do you know that? ” Jennings asked, leaning forward.
“I talked to him. His name’s James Cook.”
“Yeah, but I bet Cook never saw him. I understand the ABI spent some time looking for Smith. Or they told my lawyer they did. They supposedly found nothing.”
“What about the guy who was with him?”
“He never spoke to me face to face, and I was never told his name. If you’ve seen my file, then you’ve seen the sketches that were done from my descriptions. Those were circulated, but no hits.”
“And where was Smith from?”
“He told me Cleveland.”
“What about the cell number you called?”
“Well, my lawyer was pretty worthless, but he did make a point there. The phone was purchased under a false name, and the bills were paid via money order. Some kind of pay-as-you-go service. As soon as Dean died, the phone disappeared.”
Lije nodded. His time was almost up and there seemed to be no more roads to travel. He wasn’t any closer to finding an answer. It looked like all this had been a wasted trip, a wild goose chase.
“Mr. Jennings, I appreciate what you’ve told me today. I know you didn’t have to meet me, and I thank you so much for doing it anyway. Is there anything you need? Can I get you anything at all?”
Jennings shook his head. “I only want the hours to move more quickly. Going back to the cell will be like being tossed into hell again. The good thing about next Wednesday is that hell will no longer be my address.” He started to get up, then stopped.
“Mr. Evans, I’m a man of faith. I believe that I’ve been saved. I know that Christ knows I am innocent. I’m sure that at the next Judgment Day, I’ll be given a much lighter sentence. So if I can just survive until the state brings me that peace, I’ll be fine. I sincerely hope I helped you some.”
Lije took the man’s hand, shook it, and then embraced Jennings, to both men’s surprise. The guard quickly entered and pulled Jennings away.
Lije stood silently as Jennings was handcuffed and led out of the room. The final image he had of Jennings—shackled, shuffling down the hall, his head bent forward—cut to the bone.
DIANA CURTIS HAD JUST GIVEN HER FAREWELL TO the visiting Deutschlander. She glanced around at the empty cups and dessert plates that littered Barton Hillman’s office. This is where Barton had wanted Schmidt to finish his tour. Send him off in style, he told her. But now she had to clean the place up.
Curtis was convinced that giving tours to diplomats was a waste of time. Yet it had to beat her next assignment. How she yearned to get back to the lab and commune with the dead. Bodies didn’t grieve, talk back, or ask stupid questions.
“Miss Curtis,” Lije Evans announced as he stepped into Hillman’s office.
“Just in time to help me pick up this mess.” Why not put him to work?
“I had no idea cleanup was a part of your duties. You should be very handy around my house this week.” He grinned at her.
“I’m planning on catching up on my reports, not cleaning your house. After all, since the person who tried to kill you is in jail, there’s little security I need to do. Hope you didn’t mind my sending you on a tour of the lab while you were waiting for me.”
“No problem. In fact, the lab was very impressive. I still have no clue what most of those machines do. It looks far more advanced than the equipment I see on TV.”
“That’s why we have techs run that stuff,” Curtis replied. “Barton doesn’t know any more about most of it than you do. It’s hard to keep up with the advances, but I’ll admit this, all that lab equipment makes my job a whole lot easier.”
Curtis walked over to Hillman’s oak desk to pick up plates and cups. She wondered how many square feet the desk actually covered. She had often joked that, moved to the roof, it could serve as a helicopter pad. She had even tried to estimate how many trees died to construct it.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She tossed the cups and plates into the trash can and went to open the door. A lab tech was waiting outside, a file in his hand.
“Is the boss here? ” he asked.
“No, he’s out of town for a couple of days. He left me in charge, so what do you need?”
The man struggled for a few seconds, looking for words that he seemed unable to find. “Guess I better wait until he comes back.”
The tech seemed concerned. Why? Curtis grabbed his arm, led him to an overstuffed leather chair, and pushed him down. As the temporary chief in Hillman’s absence, she needed to find out the reason for his visible distress. She couldn’t let something important slip by. She couldn’t be negligent.
“Does the file you’re holding contain information on a current case? ” she asked the tech, looking down at him.
He nodded. “In a way.”
“What way? ” she demanded.
“I gave a report to the director the other day.”
“And?”
“He … thanked me for my good work and then … took the file and … all my evidence. I wasn’t to tell anyone, like I never did the work. He said he had to check on something … that he’d keep it safe until it was needed.”
That was quick. He spilled his guts quite easily. Now what would Barton find so important he would hide it even from her?She did almost all his reports for him. She kept track of the paper trail and oversaw all the lab t
esting. In many cases she ran the whole show. So why would he suddenly want to keep something from her?
This was not like Barton. Was it just an oversight? They had both been so busy he probably just failed to apprise her of this new evidence. He hadn’t trusted the tech to tell anyone because maybe the information needed to be explained or maybe it involved a person whose name was too well known. Barton must have had a good reason not to want those who were at a lower level inside the ABI to know. But surely that didn’t include her. After all, as Barton always said, she was his right-hand man. In his absence, she needed to know. This was one of her cases.
“You know my relationship with the boss,” she said, putting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You know he tells me everything. So I already know about what you were asked to hide. And if this applies to that, I need to hear this so I can alert Barton when he checks in with me. If I don’t get the information, then you and I will both pay dearly. And we don’t want that, do we?”
The man shook his head.
“So what’ve you got?”
Stalling no more, the lab tech divulged the results of his work. “You know about the bullet we found in the door of the Explorer?”
Not allowing her ignorance to show, Curtis nodded. “Yes. You have something new for that report?”
“It’s weird, but I guess I do. And really, I wouldn’t have it if it wasn’t for your new orders. So I guess I can tell you.”
“Which orders? ” Curtis asked.
“You asked me to go through some of the backlog of old cases and put them to rest. While I was working on those, I came across a gun and bullet from a suicide that happened two years ago.”
The back cases, of course. She had given him the job to keep him occupied. She figured it would tie him up for weeks; at least, that’s what she’d hoped. Old cases were the KP duty of the ABI. Nothing in them of value. So how could he have found something worth sharing with Hillman? “And this ties in how?”
