“What is really fascinating you about the Mars case?” she asked. “Because you played football against him?”
“I don’t like people just showing up out of the blue and confessing to a crime.”
“Like what happened in your family’s case?”
Decker closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about the other ‘team’ members.”
“I’ve only met one of them. Lisa Davenport. She’s a clinical psychologist from Chicago. She’s in her late thirties and very nice. Very professional.”
“How is all this going to work?” asked Decker.
“Like Bogart said, we vote on the cases to take.”
“But someone has to put the cases we’re going to vote on together. So there’s a preselection by someone.”
“Well, that’s true.” She pointed to his binder. “In there. Fascinating stuff. But you can add this Mars case. Bogart said so.”
“He didn’t actually say that. He said the case was out of his jurisdiction. He said we could lobby the others to take it. But if I get voted out, we don’t take it.” He looked at her. “Do I have your vote?”
“Of course you do, Amos.”
He looked away. “I appreciate that.”
Jamison looked surprised. Decker didn’t usually acknowledge things like that.
“Do you want to get cleaned up?” She added diplomatically, “I know it was a long drive. And you apparently drove straight through.”
“I did. And, yeah, I should clean up some. But I don’t have many clothes.”
“We can go shopping if you want, before the meeting.”
“Maybe after.”
“Anytime, Amos. I’m ready to help.”
“You don’t have to be this nice to me.”
Jamison knew that, unlike other people, Decker was being quite literal.
“I figure we both had big changes in our lives, and we need to stick together. There might be a case down the road I want to take. And then I’d need your support, right?”
Decker looked at her thoughtfully and nodded. “You’re more complicated than you make yourself out to be.”
“One can only hope,” she said, smiling weakly.
CHAPTER
6
HOW DO I get twenty years of my life back? You wanna tell me that? How!”
Melvin Mars sat across from his attorney in the visitors’ room at the prison.
Mary Oliver was in her midthirties, with auburn hair cut short and square glasses over her sparkling green eyes. Her angular, pretty face was sprinkled with freckles.
“You don’t, Melvin,” she said. “Nothing can do that. But they haven’t confirmed Montgomery’s story yet, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“I don’t know this dude. I never met this dude. I never knew he even existed until they came and told me. So they can’t say I paid him to kill my parents. And if they can’t show that, I’m out of here, right?”
Oliver rustled some papers in front of her. “Look, it’s not that simple. We have to let the process work, okay?”
Mars rose and smacked the wall behind him, drawing a stare from the burly guard stationed in the center of the room. He was far enough away that he could not hear their privileged conversation—at least spoken at normal levels—but close enough to step in if need be.
“Process? I let the process work before, and you see what it got me? They took my damn life, Mary.”
“It’s natural to feel betrayed and taken advantage of, Melvin. Everything you’re feeling, it’s natural.”
Mars looked like he wanted to slug something, anything, as hard as he could. But then he saw the guard’s hand move to the head of his baton. He also saw the guard’s mouth twitch in anticipation of kicking some prisoner ass.
Just give me a reason, asshole, please.
Mars calmed and sat down. “So how much longer does this process have to work?” he said in a normal voice.
“There isn’t a set timetable for this because of its unusual nature,” explained Oliver, looking relieved that he was being more reasonable. “But I will keep on top of it every second, Melvin. I promise. I will push them. And if I even see them starting to drag their feet, I will call them on it. I swear. I’ll file motions.”
“Let’s just take it one step at a time,” Oliver said, trying to keep her voice level and calm.
“Even if they let me go, they might not pardon me. Which means I got two felony murder convictions on my record. Who’s going to hire my ass? Tell me that? Tell me!”
Mars could see that she was growing more nervous by the second.
Petite white woman, big, angry black man. That’s what she sees. That’s all she sees. And she’s on my side.
He looked away and his tone changed again. “Hell, I don’t know why we’re even talking about this. They’re never gonna let me out of here, Mary.”