“What happened today?” she asked.
“Danny Brewster was murdered in prison two weeks ago,” Mike answered in a flat tone of voice.
Peg stopped preparing the salad and gave him a hug. “I’m sorry. Who told you about it?”
“Juanita.” Mike shook his head. “He was stabbed by another inmate with a homemade knife. I don’t know any details, and I’m not sure I want to find out.”
“I know that hurt.”
“I called Mrs. Brewster and arranged to have a memorial service on Wednesday.”
They sat down to eat. Halfway through the meal, Mike spoke. “You know, Danny was innocent because he didn’t know the definition of wrong. I’ve always blamed the system for failing him because my ego wouldn’t let me admit my mistake. It’s time to be honest about my responsibility.”
“No, Mike. His conviction and death weren’t your fault.”
“Indirectly they were. My stubbornness forced him to go to trial when he could have received a lesser sentence in a plea bargain and spent less time in jail. It hit me almost as soon as Juanita told me. Back then, all I could think about was winning. It’s easier to recognize selfishness and stubbornness with the benefit of hindsight.”
Peg turned away.
“What is it?” Mike asked.
“Nothing. Just thinking about the past.”
WITHIN MINUTES OF THE TIME MIKE ’ S HEAD TOUCHED THE pillow, he fell asleep. He rarely woke up until the alarm clock blared in the morning. His nights, however, were filled with unconscious activity. Since childhood, Mike’s sleep had been populated by dreams. Most he forgot before dawn, but occasionally one survived the leap from night to day. He had a couple of recurring dreams but never submitted them to an expert for interpretation.
At 3:00 a.m., Mike came roaring out of slumber and sat up in bed. Breathing heavily, he stared into the dark room.
“What is it?” Peg asked sleepily.
“A nightmare,” Mike replied. “So bad it woke me up.”
Peg leaned on her elbow. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t in the dream.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
Mike rubbed the side of his face, which was scratchy from an almost twenty-four-hour growth of beard.
“I dreamed Danny, Sam Miller, and I were sitting in an interview room at the jail. Sam was talking his usual nonsense, but Danny seemed to enjoy listening to him. I was frustrated with both of them. Suddenly, the door burst open, and four large men without faces rushed into the room and grabbed Danny and Sam. I was paralyzed. I tried to protest but couldn’t think of anything to say. I felt completely helpless. Two of the men dragged Danny away. The other two picked up Sam’s chair and started walking out of the room. Sam looked at me and waved good-bye. I had the sense he could easily get away by jumping out of the chair to the floor. I tried to scream a warning, but nothing came out of my mouth. That’s when I woke up.”
Peg turned on the light on the nightstand.
“I think you’re just trying to work through stress,” she said. “You had a lot dumped on you yesterday. You were calm at the time but needed to process the tension out of your system.”
“Maybe, although it was like watching TV.”
Peg reached over and turned off the light. “Ask Sam about it. He’s the expert on dreams.”
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, MIKE SPENT EXTRA TIME IN FRONT of the mirror adjusting his tie. Peg came up behind him and peeked over his shoulder.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Still tired. I stayed awake for a while because I didn’t want to go through the dream again.”
“Did it come back?”
“No, but I did wake up with Danny Brewster’s face in my mind. Do you remember how toothy he looked when he grinned?”
“Yes. File that in your mental photo album as a happier thought.”
Peg smoothed his collar and stroked his hair. “You know, if you really want to create a good impression in the courtroom, you need more gray hair.”
Mike shook his head. “I’m going to be a father, not a grandfather.”
“We’ll probably get those questions anyway.”
Mike turned around. Peg looked great in workout clothes from the University of Virginia, their college alma mater and the place they met and fell in love. She leaned up and kissed him.
“I might, but you won’t,” Mike said. “Visitors to the church often ask if you’re my daughter.”
Peg shook her head and frowned. “It’s a sin to lie.”
DOWNSTAIRS, MIKE DRANK A CUP OF COFFEE AND HALFHEARTEDLY nibbled a slice of wheat toast. Judge sat beside his chair, hoping for a crumb from the table.