“It doesn’t feel right, does it, Howie?” she said.
She opened her browser, went to a site that al owed her to send untraceable, anonymous text messages, and prepared one, not to Pierce, but to Sophia Prosper. The dynamic between Neil Prosper and his sister was a hard one to read. On the one hand, they were clearly in touch, which suggested that they were close. And Sophia had lied for him, had tried to put them off searching for him. But was that to protect Neil, or was it to protect her family from the infamy of a connection to a murder trial? Camila had said she’d seen fear in Sophia, when Camila had pressed her. Assuming she’d been right about that, was it fear for Neil, or was it about self-preservation?
Maybe it didn’t matter.
Neil is talking to Dandridge’s lawyers. You better stop him before I do.
Hannah hesitated, then sent the message.
Shit.
IT WAS NEARLY EIGHT A.M. BEFORE SHE HEARD MOVEMENT
IN THE kitchen. She showered quickly and dressed and made her way downstairs. Morning in the Warner household was al business.
She saw Abbie only briefly—the older woman had already showered and changed by the time Hannah came down—and she kissed Hannah on the cheek and said goodbye as she passed through the kitchen on the way out of the door to work. Sean made coffee, fil ed two travel mugs, and handed her a croissant he’d defrosted in the microwave. A minute later they were heading outside for the car.
“Sorry,” Sean said. “I know that was a bit rushed. I don’t want to lose time.”
“No, it’s fine,” Hannah said. They walked to the car and Sean beeped the locks open. They dumped their bags in the trunk and climbed in.
“Nervous?” Sean asked.
“Why would I be?” She was so fil ed with nervous tension that she felt like a firework about to go off. It was al so much harder because she had to hide it, had to appear cool and calm and professional and together. But soon she’d be sitting across from the man who’d murdered her father and raped her mother and she’d have to pretend to be on his side.
“Most people are, their first time visiting a prisoner. But maybe you’ve done this before, in Maine?”
Hannah shook her head. “Not exactly.” She’d never set foot inside a prison in her life. She sipped her coffee. “Do you visit prisoners a lot?”
“I don’t know,” Sean said, thinking. “I suppose. Last year, maybe ten, twelve times?”
“By yourself?”
“Sometimes. I came with Rob the first time, Jim Lehane the second. Often alone. It does depend on the prisoner. I haven’t met Michael before, of course, but I know someone comes up to see him as often as possible.”
Hannah spoke without thinking. “You cal him Michael,” she said.
“I noticed that Professor Marshal does too. Does that mean . . . do you like him?” Sean gave her one of his sideways looks.
“It’s not about liking him. I believe that he’s innocent and does not belong in prison. Cal ing him by his first name—that’s something we do with al our clients. You know, prison is dehumanizing. We try to build a relationship.”
Hannah shook her head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What, Hannah?”
God, she was being stupid. Giving too much away. But it was so hard. He was such a smart, decent, likable guy. And yet . . .
“I guess I’m just surprised at how convinced everyone seems to be about Dandridge’s innocence. Everyone is just completely onboard. It’s a cause, not a case.”
“Wel , I—”
“This name thing is a symptom of the problem. Don’t you think it’s better to keep some professional distance? He’s a client, he’s not your buddy.”
“I don’t see that—”
“If you close your mind to every other possibility except innocence, you risk missing things. You stop seeing evidence that contradicts the narrative you have built up in your own head. That’s not good.”
“Okay, okay,” Sean said mildly. “I agree. I can see the benefits of keeping an open mind to other arguments. We don’t want to be sandbagged at trial.”
“Right,” Hannah said, subsiding.
Sean glanced at her. “Are you sure you’re not nervous? It’s al right if you are. Visiting a prison is intimidating at the best of times.
Visiting someone like Dandridge, where there’s so much on the line, is even more pressure. And look, he might not be . . . with the case coming up next week, I’m sure he’s under a lot of stress. He might not be easy to be around. If things get difficult, just hang in there.”
Hannah frowned. “What do you mean, difficult?”
“Just that . . . sometimes prisoners get a bit argumentative. He might press us on exactly where we are with the case. And we won’t be able to answer everything. Everyone always wants certainty. The closer we get to trial the more afraid they get. Which is natural. But if they’re our client, if they’ve come to the Project, they’ve probably already been badly disappointed by a defense attorney.”
“Right.”
He shot her another quick glance. “It’s not that they don’t trust us.
I mean, they’re always very grateful that we’ve taken their case and we work with them for months and years and we visit a lot so we build up a relationship. But when it comes to this period right before a trial, the client is always staring down the barrel of possible freedom, which is frightening in itself for most of them. Often they have no life or relationships left outside of prison, or they’re looking at life imprisonment or the death sentence. And so everything starts to fray.”
“Right,” Hannah said again. If Dandridge was found guilty again, the worst he was looking at was life in prison. It was eight years since anyone had been sentenced to death in Virginia.
“You okay?” Sean asked.
“Yes, fine.”
“Are you sure?” He looked at her more closely. “Did you get any sleep? How’s your mom doing? You know, I meant what I said, don’t let Rob run you ragged. If you need to see her, you need to see her.
Some things are more important.”
“I’m fine, Sean, honestly. I didn’t sleep much because I was doing some research, that’s al .”
“Research on what?”
“On Jerome Pierce. The sheriff. You seemed to think that Prosper might be afraid of him. I guess I wanted to learn more about the guy.”
It was true that she’d been doing a little research, though she was, of course, lying about her motivation. The question in Hannah’s mind was whether Pierce, like her, knew more about Dandridge than was admissible in court. Was he someone she could approach? Could he be an al y?
“Yes. Don’t forget that he beat a confession out of Dandridge. He was definitely motivated. Three weeks had gone by with no arrest and no suspect. The local papers were ful of it. Sarah Fitzhugh— wel , she was this nice young mom. And the fact that she was raped and murdered in her own home while her kids were there. God.
Everyone was scared and everyone wanted something done.”
“So you’re completely convinced that Pierce set up Dandridge?”