Twist of Fate

  Kendra had implied, most of the messages were from journalists, but a couple were normal business.

  For starters, she returned a call from the lawyer of Mia Kolski's ex-husband. "Hi, Barney, it's Val Covington. Is your client ready to deal?"

  "Steve is ready to deal," the lawyer said wryly. "He decided to reevaluate his legal strategy when faced with possible criminal fraud charges. As a human being I'll admit this is good, but dammit, Val, you just closed down my youngest kid's college fund. I made a ton of money off of Steve."

  She laughed. "If he has a litigious nature, no doubt you'll be seeing him again. I don't care what he does as long as he stops harassing Mia. So what are the details?"

  After a brisk round of negotiating, she said good-bye to the lawyer and called Mia, whose squeal of glee could be heard in Delaware. "Val, you are a saint, a godsend. What can I ever do to repay you for getting that albatross off my neck?"

  Val thought about it. "How about if you provide live music for say, three parties of mine in the future? I'll look terribly classy without spending a cent."

  "You've got it. Don't you have an open house coming up for the new office this Friday? I can get together a trio or quartet by then, no problem."

  "So soon? It's a deal." After settling the details, Val called the next message on the list, her long-time client Bill Costain. "Hi, Bill, it's Val. What can I do for you?"

  "I won't be able to come to the open house this Friday."

  "That's too bad. I was hoping to show off my new place. Why not come by for a private tour another day and after I'll take you to lunch?" she suggested. "After all, you're my biggest client."

  "Val..."

  Hearing a strained note in his voice, she said, "Is something wrong?"

  "Val...my wife was a Malloy." Costain drew a deep breath. "Jim Malloy was her favorite cousin. She's usually pretty easygoing, but when she read the paper this morning and saw that you're trying to get Daniel Monroe off death row, she went ballistic. She...she demanded that I fire you."

  Val gasped, caught completely off-guard. A dozen retorts occurred to her, starting with the basic legal belief that everyone was entitled to a good defense and ending with the fact that even Jim Malloy's widow was willing to say Daniel might be innocent. But Sally Costain's reaction wasn't about logic, and Bill didn't need for her to make this worse.

  After drawing a deep breath, she said, "Baltimore is such a small town. I had no idea that Sally was a Malloy. Of course this is a painful topic for her. I'll really miss working with you, but mediation begins at home."

  He sighed with relief. "Thanks for being so understanding, Val. Maybe later, when this has all settled down, I'll give you a call."

  Or maybe not. After hanging up, Val closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. The high she'd gotten from resolving Mia's case certainly hadn't lasted long. From the moment she decided to go out on her own, she had been counting on making good, steady money from Bill's company. That revenue would not be easily replaced. Though she was far from destitute, she didn't have a lot of ready cash since most of her net worth was tied up in her house and retirement accounts.

  She pulled out her calculator and roughed up some figures. The first chunk of money from Rainey's movie had gone to set up the office, buy furniture and equipment, subscribe to legal databases, and the other costs of establishing a business, including setting aside six months of running costs for the office. She had to pay Kendra's salary, taxes, medical coverage for both of them, insurance, utilities, rent, and upkeep.

  There would probably be another good-sized payment from the movie in a year or so. She would also earn some money from the cases she was continuing with Crouse, Resnick. Nonetheless, without steady work from Bill Costain, she would soon have to go out and hustle for bread-and-butter clients.

  She grimaced. It had been a nice fantasy to think hustling wouldn't be necessary. For a tough lawyer, she could be awfully naive. Callie's influence, no doubt.

  Well, she would do what was needed. Even in this short time, she had developed a taste for self-employment. For now, though...

  She checked her schedule. There was nothing critical this afternoon. A couple more calls needed to be returned, and then she could play hooky for a few hours. She needed a break after working nonstop for too long.

  Hoping Lyssie was in, she called her little sister. When Lyssie answered, Val said, "Hi, hon, it's me. I know we don't have anything planned till the weekend, but since you're going back to school next week, and I have a desperate desire to get away for a bit, would you like to go on an expedition? If your grandmother agrees, of course."

  "What kind of expedition?" Lyssie asked cautiously.

  Val thought fast. "How about if I drive us up to Harpers Ferry? You like history and there's plenty of it there. We can have lunch, look at the historic sites, poke around the shops a bit."

  "Oh, yes! I'd really like that."

  "Do you think your grandmother would like to go? I think she would enjoy Harpers Ferry. My treat for us all."

  "I'll ask her, but she isn't feeling well. Just a second." Lyssie put the phone down and scampered off. A couple of minutes passed before she returned. "She says I can go, and to bring her back a surprise."

  "I'm sure that can be arranged." Val glanced at the clock. "I need to return a couple of calls, then go home and change. How about if I pick you up in about an hour?"

  "I'll be ready."

  Lyssie would be, too; she was admirably punctual. Val returned to her message pile and sorted out the most important. This big sister business had all kinds of dividends she hadn't expected in the beginning. It was nice to have a playmate.

  Rob had been a great playmate--but Val refused to go there. Life was complicated enough already.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  Buying a house could be done with remarkable speed, Rob learned. Even though the sellers had moved to the West Coast, the wonders of fax and electronic fund transfers solidified the deal quickly. Inspection and financing contingencies still needed to be satisfied, but that should be routine. Plus, the sellers agreed to let Rob use the guest cottage until settlement.

  So he was a homeowner. Almost, anyhow. When he stopped by the real estate agency to pick up the key to the guest house, he said, "I think I'm supposed to start feeling buyer's remorse about now, but so far, not a trace."

  The agent laughed. "Remorse isn't required. It's a fine house in a beautiful neighborhood, and you got it for a good price. You'll be happy there, I'm sure."

  So was he, though not as happy alone as he would have been with Val. He had managed to avoid seeing her for several days, and that would be even easier after he relocated to the guest cottage. He wondered if he would be able to move out of the church apartment without her noticing. Probably not.

  Malcolm waited in the air-conditioned pickup truck, his expression less lugubrious than usual. He was a good truck dog. "Malcolm, my lad, would you like to drive to Homeland to see your new house? Yes? Good, I was heading that way myself."

  His phone rang within seconds of his turning the power on. A call from the Manhattan area code, he noticed. " 'Lo, Rob here."

  "Hi, Rob, it's Phyllis Greene from Time magazine. Remember me?"

  He suppressed his sigh. Phyllis had done a story on him during Jeff's trial. She had been fair and thorough, but nothing about that period made for pleasant memories. "How could I forget you? A saintly smile and the persistence of a pit bull."

  She laughed. "You seem to have done your best to forget everything until this capital punishment case you got yourself involved with. I'm thinking of doing a follow-up story on you. I like the beard, by the way."

  This time he did sigh. "I really wish you wouldn't do a story. There is nothing here with national implications. It's a Maryland issue."

  "But this is great stuff. Grieving and guilt-stricken entrepreneurial brother of environmental terrorist reinvents himself as community and capital punishment activist. It might even help your cause."
>
  "Nothing you write would come out soon enough to affect whether or not Daniel Monroe will be executed next week."

  "Maybe not, but it might help the broader cause of opposition to capital punishment. One I privately agree with, speaking off-the-record."

  He rubbed the short hair on Malcolm's neck, finding the contact soothing. The dog moaned softly and rested his chin on Rob's knee. "I'm no crusader. I only got involved with this case by chance."

  "I think you're becoming a crusader in spite of yourself," she said seriously. "Will you talk to me? It's easier than if I have to work around you."

  He hadn't thought of himself as an activist, but the label seemed to be coming after him. First Julia Hamilton, now this. Since Phyllis was determined to do the story with or without his cooperation, he capitulated. "Okay, what do you want to know?"

  If he was being given a platform, maybe he had an obligation to speak.

  Chapter 28

  "I never knew Maryland was so pretty," Lyssie said as Val steered her car along the winding highway that followed the Potomac River for a couple of miles below Harpers Ferry. The girl's nose had been glued to the window for the whole trip.

  "You've never been out this way?"

  "I've never been out of Maryland until today. Both Virginia and West Virginia within a few minutes!" She pushed the bridge of her glasses up with a sigh. 'I've hardly ever been out of Baltimore City."

  "No wonder you have a yen to travel." Val kept her voice light to disguise the pang of hearing how limited Lyssie's life had been. Amazing that the girl had such an active, inquiring mind. Or maybe her curiosity was a result of having lived within narrow limits. "I've been thinking. Maybe next spring, I can take a long weekend and drive down to North Carolina with you and your grandmother. You can visit your Lumbee relatives, and I'll go see a friend in Charlotte."

  "Really?" Lyssie's head swung around, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "Please...please don't say that unless you mean it."

  She had the ability to break Val's heart with a single sentence. Keeping one eye on the winding road, Val laid a hand over Lyssie's. "I won't ever say anything like that unless I mean it. And if I forget something important, call me on it! You're my sister--you have the right."

  Lyssie didn't speak, but she did squeeze Val's hand. Each time they had an outing, progress was made. Val liked the deepening of their relationship. For whatever reason, it was easier to accept the commitment of relationships with females.

  Turning right onto one of the roads that led up the hill into Harpers Ferry, Val said, "There used to be a big old hotel at the top of this hill. It's been torn down now, but the view from up here is world class. After we admire it, I thought we could get a bite to eat, then poke around down in the town."

  Lyssie nodded enthusiastically. She seemed able to eat six times a day without adding any padding to her bony little body.

  The hilltop looked bare with the hotel gone, but someday soon another building would rise to take advantage of the view. Val parked on the lot under a tree. "Come on, let's see if the view is as great as I remember."

  It was. Lyssie gasped as they went to the flagstone landing at the end of the ridge. No one else was around, and from their vantage point they could look down at the confluence of two great rivers.

  "That's the Potomac and on this side is the Shenandoah. A railroad line runs along the river below. See the railroad bridge over the Potomac?" Val pointed out the landmarks. "I think that ruined bridge down there was destroyed in the Civil War."

  "Awesome." Lyssie pointed downward. "Are those eagles below us?"

  "Could be. Some kind of raptor for sure. Watching them glide along the winds makes me want to fly." Val privately suspected that the birds were turkey vultures, but they soared as well as any eagles.

  "To fly..." Lyssie said dreamily. She stepped off the flagged area onto the trimmed grass. To the left a cast iron fence guarded the edge, but here the hill dropped away with cliff-like suddenness only a foot beyond Lyssie. The grass was damp from the previous night's rain, and Lyssie skidded as she moved forward.

  A horrific vision of the girl plunging over the edge to her death kicked Val's reflexes into overdrive. "No!"

  She grabbed Lyssie's shoulder and yanked her back to safety. Lyssie shrieked and folded into a ball on the grass, her arms raised to protect her head.

  "Dear God," Val whispered. Kneeling, she put an arm around Lyssie and drew the small, resisting body close. "I'm not going to hit you, I was just scared that you might fall. Foolish of me, but I'm responsible for you, and I'm new to being a big sister."

  Lyssie didn't respond. She kept her head down and her body tucked as she breathed in short, panicky gasps.

  "Who hit you, Lyssie?" Val said softly. "One of your parents? Your grandmother?"

  That brought Lyssie's head up. 'Not Gramma, my parents. Mama only hit me when I deserved it, but Daddy...wh...when he was high...." Her voice broke.

  "Oh, honey." Val couldn't stop herself from drawing the girl into a full hug. This time there was no resistance. Lyssie's quiet weeping tore holes in her heart. "Do you want to talk about your parents, Lyssie? You can tell me anything, and sometimes the bad stuff gets a little easier when it's shared with a friend. Or a sister."

  Lyssie rubbed at her eyes, so Val pulled out tissues and handed them over.

  After wiping her glasses and blowing her nose, Lyssie said, "Daddy wasn't around much, but I loved when he visited. He wasn't always mean. Sometimes he was the best and most exciting fun in the world. If I knew he was coming, I would stay by the window and watch for him all day. Sometimes he took me out to see the Orioles, or to the Inner Harbor or Mondawmin Mall. Even the Aquarium once."

  "And other times he was angry and scary?"

  Lyssie nodded. Val cast a longing glance at the park bench a dozen feet away, but they had the viewing area to themselves, and Lyssie seemed comfortable crouched on the grass. Better not risk stopping the flow of words by moving. "I felt the same way about my father. Since I almost never saw him, it was really exciting when I did. I would do anything to make him happy with me." Or even just acknowledge her existence.

  "Did you feel bad because you wanted so much to see your father when your mother did all the work?"

  Startled by the perceptive question, Val said, "I sure did. I loved them both, but my mother was the one who was always there. She made sure that I was fed and dressed and went to school. Seeing her wasn't special. My father--he was like a king who came to visit sometimes, and when he did, I felt like a princess."

  Lyssie nodded again. "I loved to see him, but when he visited, he and Mama fought all the time. If...if he hadn't come to see me, they would both still be alive."

  Sickened, Val recognized that it was probably inevitable that Lyssie would feel as if the death of her parents was somehow her fault. "Honey, when a man gets crazy and violent on drugs like your father, he's like a gun waiting to go off. It was only a matter of time till the trigger was pulled. What happened wasn't your fault. Men kill their wives and themselves so often that it has a name--murder-suicide."

  "My father didn't kill himself," Lyssie said in a flat voice. "A policeman shot him. After he killed Mama, someone called the police, and they broke into the apartment because they'd been told there was a child in danger.

  "When they broke in. Daddy grabbed me and held his gun to my head. He was screaming and threatening to kill me if the police didn't let him go. One of the policemen started talking to him, and when he lowered the gun a little, they...they shot him." She made a choking sound. "His blood was...all over me."

  No wonder Lyssie hadn't told the whole story originally. Heart aching, Val rocked the girl in her arms. "No one should experience something like that at any age, Lyssie, especially not at the age of six. What an amazing girl you are."

  Lyssie pulled her head back and blinked through glasses that were steamed again. "You think?"

  Val nodded. "You survived, and you're developing into
a really bright, thoughtful person. A European philosopher once said that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger. You're proof."

  "Nietzsche." Lyssie frowned as she tried to see herself as a heroine instead of a victim. "Do you think surviving the...the murders will make me a better writer?"

  "Guaranteed. You're already the most amazing girl I've ever met," Val said with complete sincerity. "Talking with you now is making me think differently about my father and how we got along. Changing how people think is part of what writers do."

  Lyssie sighed and rested her head against Val's shoulder. "I'd rather have my parents alive even if they didn't get along."

  Val brushed the springy dark hair with the texture so like hers. "We don't get to choose."

  They sat quietly, cooled by the stiff breeze that blew along the river valleys. Val hadn't been kidding when she said that Lyssie's words had changed her thinking. She had grown up accepting that her family wasn't like others, but she hadn't really thought about how much her father's rare visits, and her even rarer visits to him, had shaped her childhood. She had been like a cat waiting by the refrigerator and hoping for cream. Though Callie had been a conscientious, down-to-earth mother, she always had her creative and romantic interests. Val had never really felt that she came first.

  This had a lot to do with Rob, but she would ponder that later. Now was Lyssie's time to come first. "Shall we go inside the hotel and have some lunch? All the desserts you can eat, after you've had something healthy."

  "I'm hungry." Lyssie scrambled to her feet. Though her nose and eyes were red, the tears had dried.

  "Me, too." Val rose rather less lithely than her little sister. "Then we'll go down into the village. There are lots of neat little shops where we can get something for your grandmother, and the National Park Service has a terrific bookstore with practically all history books."

  "Can we start there?"

  Val laughed. "Start and end there, if you like." She linked her arm through Lyssie's, and they turned to the hotel.