Adam flinched, then nodded.
“He was buried in his blanket with one of his stuffed animals.”
Adam nodded again, but didn’t say anything.
“According to the transcript, the stuffed dinosaur was his favorite animal.”
“He had many favorites—Chris couldn’t go to the zoo or mall without coming back with another stuffed animal—but he slept with the dinosaur every night.” Adam looked down, then whispered, “He said the T. rex would protect him when he slept.”
“Who else might have known which was his favorite?”
“Who cares?”
“It might go to motive.”
Donovan slammed his fist on the table. “There is no fucking motive!”
The guard closest to them came over. “First and only warning, Donovan.”
Donovan’s jaw tightened. “What do you want from me, Kane?”
“Max wanted me to tell her whether you are guilty or innocent.”
Donovan laughed out loud. “You a fucking psychic? Oh, that’s good. You come in here, spend thirty minutes talking to me and you can tell if I killed my son? That’s rich.”
“I told Max I wouldn’t be able to do it. She has an uncanny way of reading people. Not a psychic—more like an astute observer of human behavior and emotion.”
“So this has been a waste of time. You dragged me in here to talk about my son for no fucking reason. Unbelievable. Leave me alone, Kane. I don’t need this. I just want to do my time.”
“Don’t you want to know who killed Chris?”
“The world knows. The world believes I killed my son. Nothing else matters. I don’t live in a fantasy world. Every guy in this joint is guilty, but they’ll lie through their teeth to anyone on the outside that they’re innocent, then laugh all the way to the yard that they pulled one over on their girlfriend or attorney or the parole board. I’m not getting out of here. And if I appealed, got out on a technicality, the only people in the world I care about will still think I’m guilty. My life is over. Don’t come back.”
*
Amy Lovell had never married. She’d visited Donovan only once in prison, the month after he’d been transferred to Corcoran, but never again. She’d moved from Santa Clarita to Pasadena. Not far as the crow flies, but a completely different city, friends, job. Maybe she’d had a difficult time after the trial, maybe she just needed a change. Whatever reason, it wasn’t difficult for David to track her down.
David didn’t want to believe that Adam Donovan was innocent … but he said he didn’t kill his son, and when faced with a reporter who could blast the news far and wide, David expected him to. All he had from the trial was the transcripts, and he couldn’t tell if Amy was lying based on the written words. He saw why the jury didn’t believe her—she hesitated, was asked to constantly repeat herself, and got trapped in a logic problem. Either she wasn’t bright, or she was flustered, or she didn’t understand what was going on.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” David said. Amy was several years younger than Donovan. She had once been pretty—but the years hadn’t been kind. Or maybe it was how Amy felt about herself. She was far too skinny to be healthy, her hair was severely styled, and she wore unflattering colors.
“I only agreed to tell you to your face that I will not let you drag me into this again. The press vilified me once, I won’t let it happen again.”
“I only have one question.”
“You drove all the way here to ask me one question?” Her distrust was evident.
“Was Adam Donovan with you the night his son was kidnapped and murdered?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t believe this,” she said. “I’m going to call the police. This is harassment. You can’t d-d-do this to me.”
David softened his tone—difficult for him, because he wasn’t a soft guy. Amy might look tough on the outside, but she was mush on the inside.
“Amy,” he said in an even tone, “I read the transcript. You became flustered on the stand and backtracked. You lost credibility in the eyes of the jury. I can just imagine how nervous you were.”
“I didn’t know what to expect—the questions about my life, about things I didn’t want to talk about … about sex.” She whispered the last word.
David was surprised that the defense hadn’t prepared Amy for questioning. It seemed pretty basic to David that you needed to prepare your witnesses, but this attorney was slipshod in many ways.
“The answer is important, Amy. There are three other boys who died in the same manner as Chris. If Adam is truly innocent, my employer is ready to fund an Innocence Project campaign on his behalf.” That was partly true. But Donovan would have to file an appeal first, and he didn’t seem to be inclined to do so.
“I told the court that Adam was with me that night. Through all my embarrassment, through the way the press dragged me through the mud as a slut, home-wrecker, and liar, I was with Adam that night. The prosecutor wanted the jury to believe that if I was telling the truth, I had fallen asleep and Adam snuck out. We were more than thirty minutes from his house. How could he have snuck out, killed his son, then snuck back into my bed where we woke up and made love again at five that morning?”
“One thing the jury had a problem with, according to exit interviews, was that Cindy Donovan was working late that night—she was a tax attorney preparing for a major audit. Why wasn’t Adam at home with his son?”
“That question haunted Adam. He won’t talk to me anymore—I tried. He doesn’t hate me. He doesn’t love me. He has no feelings at all. I’ve tried to move on with my life, tried not to blame myself, but I can’t help it. Adam hired a babysitter because he was angry with his wife for any number of things. I honestly think he wanted Cindy to find out about our affair because that would give her a reason to divorce him.” She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath, but David didn’t interrupt her train of thought. “I didn’t have any illusions that Adam loved me, Mr. Kane. We were friends at work, we became lovers, and I cared about him. Yes, I fell in love with him. I wanted him to love me the same way, but I knew he couldn’t. Even then, I knew I was lying to myself. He was angry and hurt and frustrated with his marriage and girls like me always try to fix men who are broken. I’m not that girl anymore.
“There’s no cell in my body that believes Adam killed his son. Not one. I hate that I was so wishy-washy on the stand, that the jury thought I wasn’t credible, that I was a love-struck twenty-year-old sleeping with a man ten years older. But you know what I hate more? That Adam was convicted for murder and he didn’t do one thing to help himself. It’s like he wanted to be punished. Where’s the justice, Mr. Kane? Because neither Adam nor Chris Donovan has seen it.”