Part 6 (1/2)

The attorney for Edith Abbott had a grave look in his delft-blue eyes. ”I thought I recognized you from this morning,” he said. ”I don't know if you remember me. I'm-”

”I know who you are,” Tess said abruptly.

”I wouldn't think you'd want to be up here,” he said. ”Too many memories.”

Tess did not reply.

”I'm sure those results came as a shock to you today,” he said.

Tess lifted her chin. ”And I'm surprised to see you out jogging. I would have thought you'd be busy doing interviews.”

”I had to get away from that madness,” he said. ”I needed some air.”

”No victory celebration?”

”This is how I celebrate,” he said with a hint of a smile. ”I run.”

”I prefer champagne myself,” said Tess.

Ben Ramsey shook his head. ”This isn't a champagne occasion,” he said. ”An innocent man was executed.”

”And you think it's my fault,” she said.

”Your fault?”

”That is what you think.”

Ben Ramsey shook his head. ”No. Of course not. You were only a child.”

”I told the court exactly what I saw,” Tess said.

”What you thought you saw,” he corrected her. He crossed his arms over his chest and a.s.sumed a comfortable stance. ”You know, initially, when Edith Abbott approached me, I didn't want to get involved. I had my own problems and I knew it would be a drain on me. But when I read the transcript and saw that the conviction was largely based on the eyewitness testimony of a nine-year-old child...well, do you have any idea how unreliable eyewitness testimony can be? Even with adults? Psychologists have conducted tests that prove that over fifty percent of all eyewitness testimony is incorrect. That is a frightening statistic,” he said. ”Especially when you're building a death penalty case on it.”

Tess stared at him without replying. He spoke as if he were discussing the case with a colleague, not with the very witness involved. She began to s.h.i.+ver again and her head hurt.

Mistaking her silence for interest, he said, ”I'll tell you another sobering fact. Since 1989, a hundred and seventy-five prisoners on death row have been cleared on the basis of DNA evidence, and in seventy percent of those cases, they had originally been convicted primarily by eyewitness testimony. Seventy percent. That is mind-boggling.”

Tess looked at him with narrowed eyes wondering how she could have found him attractive. He was obviously an insensitive jerk. ”Why in the world are you telling me this? I was the eyewitness in this case.”

Her indignation did not faze him. ”I just thought you might want to know,” he said, ”that this kind of erroneous identification isn't some rare mistake. It's practically commonplace. Add to that the fact that you were a child under a great deal of pressure...”

”n.o.body pressured me,” said Tess. ”I told the truth.”

Ben looked at her, his gaze sympathetic. ”I'm sure it seems that way. And after all these years...you know, the more we repeat a story or recount a memory a certain way, the more we become convinced that our memory is the truth. That's not just a courtroom fact. That's something we do in our own lives.”

”You're wrong, Mr. Ramsey,” she told him coldly. ”I saw Lazarus Abbott take my sister.”

His gaze remained kindly. ”You know, denial will give you ulcers.”

”I wasn't wrong,” Tess said. ”And I'm not interested in your opinion anyway.”

Hearing Tess's angry tone, Leo began to bark again. At the same instant, Tess heard a voice call out, ”Ma!” She turned. Erny was riding his bike straight into the campsite, b.u.mping up and down with every stone and rut.

”Erny,” she cried. The boy pulled up beside her and stuck out his feet on either side of the bike to balance himself. ”Hey, Leo,” he said and the dog eagerly pressed up against Erny's leg and accepted a flurry of pets. Then Erny looked up at Ben Ramsey guilelessly. ”Hi,” he said.

”Hi,” said the attorney in a friendly tone.

Tess had no intention of making any introductions. She turned her back on Ben Ramsey. Erny was used to his mother behaving politely to people. He looked quizzically at her and then at the stranger in the sweat suit. Tess pretended not to notice. ”Why are you up here by yourself?” she demanded.

Erny looked back at her wide-eyed. ”I was looking for you.”

”I told you specifically not to come up here.”

”I was just wondering where you were,” he insisted.

Tess looked at him skeptically.

”It's neat up here,” said Erny.

”Let's get back,” said Tess. ”Dawn will be worried.” Erny shrugged and turned his bike around on the path. ”Bye,” he called out to Ramsey. Leo began straining at the leash to keep pace with Erny.

”Bye now,” said the attorney, looking after the departing boy and raising a hand in farewell.

Tess glanced at Ramsey, who had turned to her with unguarded interest, as if he had a hundred questions he wanted to ask her. His face fell at the sight of her bitter gaze. With a curt nod but not a word, Tess turned away from him and followed her son and the dog out of the campground and onto the path back to the inn.

Dawn was at the stove, heating a teakettle, when the three of them came back through the mudroom door. ”You found each other,” she exclaimed. Tess nodded. Leo made straight for his customary spot on the rug, while Erny picked up a fistful of thumbprint cookies from a plate on the counter.

”Can I go watch TV?” he asked.

”Sure,” said Dawn.

”Come on, Leo, come with me,” Erny urged the dog. Leo did not have to be asked twice. He got up and followed Erny out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Dawn looked at Tess with relief. ”That's better. That walk put a little color back in your cheeks,” she said. ”You were so pale. I thought you were going to faint before.”

Tess didn't mention that it was anger from her upsetting encounter at the campground that had turned her cheeks pink. ”Jake and Julie are gone?”

Dawn nodded. ”He left Kelli's car for you and Erny to use while you're here.”

”That's what he said,” said Tess.

Dawn poured a mug of tea for Tess.

Tess took the tea and sat down on the bench in the breakfast nook. She looked out across the gloomy field and thought about Edith Abbott's attorney. There was no point denying that he was handsome or s.e.xually appealing to her. Obviously, he knew it. It was probably a weapon he used freely to win over female jurors, she thought. But he was so smug with his a.n.a.lysis. Ben Ramsey had spoken to her as if she ought, obviously, to be agreeing with him. That was infuriating. Still, she could not deny that his words made her uneasy. For they had brought back to her an unwelcome memory that was unrelated to her sister's death.

Once, at college, during a painful estrangement from a boyfriend, she had come home from cla.s.s one day to see him walking out of her dorm. Thinking that he wanted to make up, she had run after him, calling to him, but he didn't respond to her calls. Later, when she brought it up during a brief reconcilation, he told her that he had not been on the campus at the time she thought she had seen him. He had not even been in the state. No matter how she argued with him about it, he insisted that he had been home with his parents at the time. He said that he had no reason to lie about it, and she knew that it was true. She had not seen him. She had mistaken someone else for him. But she had been so sure at the time. So completely sure. She would have bet her life on it.