Cut to the Bone(93)
She muted Wayne as she waited.
“Kit?”
“Hello, Morry,” she said. “How’s your squash game?”
“Rusty,” Wolf said. “Business is booming and I don’t have time to practice. I’ve got Wayne’s speech on CNN.”
“Then you know why I’m calling.”
Wolf cleared his throat. “You’re the two loveliest people I know. Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes,” she said, staring at the TV. She loved her husband. The thought of living without him made her physically ill. But dead people didn’t fight fair - they took and took and never gave back. She could no longer compete. Neither could the kids, who’d finally quit asking where Daddy was tonight. “File the papers.”
“Now?”
She sighed. “Wait till Monday. Wayne deserves his Sunday Times.”
11:35 a.m.
“Dead man walking,” the head guard announced as they shuffled Corey Trent from the cell.
11:36 a.m.
“Just leaving Monroe’s hideout,” Cross told Branch as he raced toward the Justice Center. “It’s a small split-level on Royce Road. Not too far from the gravel quarry. Neighbors see the owner occasionally, but have never met him.”
“Who found the place?”
“A water crew checking a flood. They asked us to open the house because pipes had burst. They found an electric chair in the rec room. It’s made of arc-welded Bowie knives.”
“Bowie . . . knives?”
“Hundreds of them, perfectly milled,” Cross said. “So highly polished the chair’s one big mirror - you could shave in front of the thing. Monroe’s an expert craftsman.”
“Explains his expertise with the cutting.”
“Something else,” Cross said. “A telephone answering machine was on the seat. It’s filled with messages to someone named ‘Bowie.’“
“That’s two references to Bowie,” Branch said. “Why does that sound so familiar - oh no.”
“I’ve already alerted Annie,” Cross said.
11:37 a.m.
“Turn this way, Reverend . . . a little more . . . perfect,” said the NBC field producer. His lawyer source at the ACLU promised “a speech that’ll blow up the planet.” The producer hoped so. Tiddly-winks had more violence than this crowd. “Stay like that. Speak loud and clear. Don’t squint when the camera’s on. We go live at 11:45.”
“We’re gonna be on TV, Grandpa?” his granddaughter asked, eyes dancing at the thought of all her friends watching.
“Going to,” Danny corrected. “And yes, honey, we are. The television people want me to talk about someone special.”
“Who?”
“Uncle Earl,” he said.
11:44 a.m.
“Are you sure you don’t want to pray, my son?” the priest asked.
“You ain’t my daddy, ass-eyes,” Trent snapped, bucking against the harness leather. “Get the hell out of here before I kick your sissy ass.”
There’s the man we know and hate, he saw the guards think as they hustled the priest away. Exactly as he’d hoped. Too much niceness would raise suspicion.
11:45 a.m.
“Three . . . two . . . one . . .” the director mouthed.
“Good morning,” Daniel Monroe said, clutching a Bible. He wore funereal black, a minister’s collar, and a cross. His granddaughter played at his feet, and his congregation hummed around them. “On June 29, 1972, a young man named Earl Monroe died in the Illinois electric chair. But he didn’t commit the crime.”
The NBC producer scowled. This is why he convinced network to cut away from the electric chairs line-dancing at the east gate? An innocent-man blubberfest? Sheesh. He’d give this clown fifteen seconds, then cut back to the dancers.
“The man who threw the switch is here today. His name is Wayne Covington, the governor of Illinois. He killed a completely innocent man in 1972, and I have the proof here with me.”
Protesters rushed over to listen, followed by network anchors. The congregation switched from humming to “Onward Christian Soldiers.”
God, I’m good, the producer thought triumphantly.
“Crowd’s changing all of a sudden,” Annie told Branch as she snapped off an alert to all commands. “Aggressive body language. Angry expressions. Recommend Condition Orange.”
“What is this mysterious proof, you ask?” Danny continued, heart banging so hard it threatened to blow his chest. “Very simple - it’s me. I blew up twelve Naperville and county policemen in 1966. I blew up the witness they were guarding. Earl Monroe didn’t do it. He simply took the blame to keep me off Death Row. My name is Daniel Monroe. I’m Earl’s little brother. I’m here today to confess my sins and clear my brother’s name.”