Vengeance Road
Page 30
In the time since he’d returned to Buffalo, Gannon took care of unfinished business. After visiting Adell Clark to thank her, he stopped by Mary Peller’s apartment.
Jolene came to the door with Cody clinging to her leg, like he’d never let go. Some of her bruises had started to fade, but he wondered about the scars she’d carry for the rest of her days.
“Just wanted to see how you’re doing,” he said.
Boxes covered the floor; they were packing for Florida.
“We’re going to be fine.” Jolene smiled. “I’ll take it one day at a time. How about you?”
He shrugged. “The same.”
Gannon noticed her locket, the one he’d seen in the Wichita crime scene pictures.
“May I see?”
She opened it and showed it to him.
“Candace Rose, the detective in Kansas, arranged for the FBI to hand deliver it to me.”
“Mr. Gannon!”
Mary Peller came down the hall, opened her arms and hugged him.
“You’re my hero, Jack Gannon. I knew something about you was different the morning I met you in your newsroom. I saw it in your eyes. I said, if anybody’s going to help me, this man will. Thank you!”
Gannon left, warmed by the sight of a small family reunited.
Then he glanced at the gift in the backseat of his Pontiac Vibe and drove downtown west of Main. He parked near the back of a small two-story frame house that was in need of paint. He knocked and heard movement inside. While he waited, he looked at the flower garden.
Bernice Hogan’s foster mother, Catherine Field, answered the door, a question rising in her face until she recognized Gannon.
“Hello, Catherine.”
“I saw it all on the news. I never expected to see you again.”
Gannon passed her an envelope. She looked inside. It was a check for several hundred dollars. She looked at him.
“Bernice shouldn’t be forgotten in all this,” he said. “I was thinking maybe you could start a small scholarship in her memory at the school.”
Catherine’s eyes glistened.
“And I have this for you.”
Gannon reached down for a planter with a sapling.
“It’s an elm. For you to plant here.” He nodded to her yard. “Or where Bernice is resting. It’s sort of a symbol of hope.”
She stared at him for several moments then her face crumpled. She covered it with a wrinkled hand.
“Thank you,” she said.
A few days later, in Cheektowaga, in the neighbourhood of Cleveland Hill near where he grew up, Gannon carried one of the last boxes from his apartment to his Pontiac.
His cell phone rang.
“Jack, Ward Wallace at the Sentinel.”
“Congratulations on your promotion to managing editor, Ward. I’m betting not many people are grieving Nate’s departure.”
“Not many. Listen, I’m calling to offer you a job at the Sentinel, with a raise, and to let you know we’ll make a formal front-page apology to you.”
“Ward, I appreciate where this is coming from, but.
“I know. I know you’ve accepted the WPA’s offer. I talked to Melody. I was impressed that they were generous, paid all your bills on the story, gave you the big check for the exclusive series and the bonus. But we need a guy like you here and, well, I thought I’d give it a shot.”
“It’s not about the money, Ward, you know that.”
“I do. This paper always got more from you than it gave.”
Not long after Wallace’s call, Gannon set the last box in the passenger seat. Before he turned the ignition he opened it to look at the contents and reached in for one item.
His father, mother, sister and a younger version of himself all smiled back from an old framed photograph.
The ghosts of his life.
He stared at Cora and heard her voice.
You’re going to be a great writer someday. Lots of people are going to read your stories, Jackie. Wanna know how I know? Because you’re so smart. I see it in your eyes. You don’t let go. You don’t give up.
Would he ever see her again? Don’t think about that now, he told himself, dropping the picture onto the passenger seat.
He drove off, realizing that at last, at long last, he’d achieved everything he’d wanted his whole life. He was going to be working in Manhattan, reporting for a global wire service.
The world would be his beat.
His dream had come true.
But man, it came at such a terrible price, he thought, glancing at the photograph as Buffalo blurred in his rearview mirror.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you, Amy Moore-Benson
My thanks to the New York State Police.
Thank you to Valerie Gray, Dianne Moggy, Catherine Burke and the excellent editorial, marketing, sales and PR teams at MIRA Books. As always, I am indebted to Wendy Dudley. I also thank my friends in the news business for their help and support; in particular, Sheldon Alberts, Washington Bureau Chief for CanWest News Service, Glen Miller, Metro, Juliet Williams, Associated Press, Sacramento, California, Bruce DeSilva and Vinnee Tong, Associated Press, New York. Also Lou Clancy, Eric Dawson, Jamie Portman, Mike Gillespie, colleagues past and present with the Calgary Herald, Ottawa Citizen, CanWest News, Canadian Press, Reuters, the Toronto Star, Globe and Mail and so many others.
You know who you are.
Thanks to Ginnie Roeglin, Tod Jones, David Fuller, Steve Fisher, Lorelle Gilpin, Sue Knowles, David Wright and everyone at The C.C. I am grateful to Pennie Clark Ianniciello, Shana Rawers, Wendi Wambolt and Melissa McMeekin.
Very special thanks to Laura and Michael.
Again, I am indebted to sales representatives, booksellers and librarians for putting my work in your hands. Which brings me to you, the reader—the most critical part of the entire enterprise.
Thank you very much for your time, for without you, a book remains an untold tale. I hope you enjoyed the ride and will check out my earlier books while watching for my next one. I welcome your feedback. Drop by at www.rickmofina.com, subscribe to my newsletter and send me a note.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I aimed to set this story against the backdrop of the real world. The family massacre on the prairie was loosely drawn from two actual tragedies that go back nearly half a century. Unrelated to those cases, I also drew upon my time as a reporter and memories of interviews with murderers. And there was the time I was taken through the execution protocol, step by step. But in crafting this story, I have taken great fictional liberties with geography, police jurisdiction, procedure and other aspects. I hope my creative mix of fact and fiction does not diminish your enjoyment of the tale.
ISBN: 978-1-4603-0823-3
VENGEANCE ROAD
Copyright © 2009 by Rick Mofina.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
MIRA and the Star Colophon are trademarks used under license and registered in Australia, New Zealand, Philippines, United States Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
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