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Kirk Jones reached for the rag tucked in his back pocket and slowly wiped his hands clean as he studied her. “You know my father?”
“That’s right.”
“You don’t look like my father’s type. From what I heard he liked the blondes.”
“I’m his attorney.”
He studied her a beat. “The one decked on the news?”
“I think everyone in Nashville saw that clip.”
“Attention is what you wanted, right?”
She worked her jaw, still stiff after three days. “Your father is hoping the DNA tests will clear his name.”
“He’s been selling the same story for as long as I can remember.”
“He’s been writing you. Have you read any of his letters?”
“Sure, I read them. But my dad was always good at telling stories. There were times when I think he really believed them. He’s been telling the innocent story for so long, he believes it.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I did when I was nine. I wanted to believe it was a mistake. I also wanted to believe that he’d sober up and treat my mom right. But he never did either.”
“You know he’s sick.”
“That’s what he said in his last letter.”
“He wants to see you.”
Kirk shoved out a breath as he dropped his gaze to the grime under his fingernails. “I don’t want to see him.”
“I know your life wasn’t easy after he left.”
“You make it sound like he went on a business trip.” Resentment dripped from the words.
“He feels terrible.”
“Well, then that’s all that matters. Look, if you want to chase a pipe dream and try to prove his innocence, have at it. But don’t pull me into your world. I don’t want none of it.”
“I’m not here to mend fences or to fix your relationship with your father. I’m getting background information on Jeb and Annie.”
Kirk shook his head. “Dad liked Annie. He said it often enough. And it upset my mother. They argued about it all the time toward the end.”
“Do you remember any details that might help me figure out what happened?”
“My dad wanted Annie for himself and when she wouldn’t run off with him he killed her.”
“He told you that?”
“My mother told me that. And she still believes that.”
“Where is your mother?”
“Old folks home. Her mind is all but gone. On a good day she remembers my name but there aren’t many good days anymore.”
“She was at the trial. She supported your father. And when the police first spoke to her she gave him an alibi.”
“My mother loved my father and she’d have sacrificed her life for him no matter what he did to her. It took years before she realized he was no good.”
“Did she ever speak about Annie?”
“The mention of Annie made her cry.” He planted his hands on his hips and hesitated before saying, “I went to see Annie once. I took two buses so that I could get to the bar where she sang. I snuck in the back and hid long enough to see her on stage and to hear her sing. She was good. Great. She had all the looks and talent that my mother didn’t.”
“If your father loved her why would he kill her?”
“He hated the idea that she’d married. Hated it. I know he was biding time until the baby was born.”
“What was he looking for?”
“He wanted her to run away with him.” The man shook his head, a bitter smile twisting the edge of his lips. “He wasn’t smart enough to realize that women like her didn’t settle for men like him. And when he did figure it out, he killed her.”
“He has a right to the DNA test.”
“Sure, test all you want. But he’ll disappoint you in the long run like he disappointed everyone in his life.”
She half hoped to hear more words of encouragement from her brother. Tell me I’m right. Remind me why I fight. But he remained mutinously silent. In this, she was alone.
She dug an envelope from her purse. “He asked me to give this to you.”
He eyed the envelope in her outstretched hand. “What is it?”
“A letter from your father. He wanted you to read it.”
Kirk hesitated, took the envelope and shoved it in his back pocket. “That it?”
“You aren’t going to read it?”
“No doubt it reads like all the other letters he’s sent to me. I’m not interested in his sob story.”
“He’s not perfect, but he’s not evil.”
Dark eyes flashed. “Why are you doing this?” “Delivering the letter?”
“Defending him.”
She considered avoiding the subject but opted for a rare option for her: candid honesty. “My brother was convicted of murder. I thought he was innocent, and I did my best to get him out of jail. He died in prison before I could free him.”
Kirk’s head tilted and she sensed he was reassessing her. “So you think you can save men like your brother?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t know your brother, but I knew my father. He’s not a man worth saving.”
“I don’t agree.”
“Then you are in a battle all by yourself.”
Her gaze landed on a two-year-old calendar featuring a bikini-clad woman on a motorcycle. The woman looked fresh-faced and happy. What did that kind of happy feel like? “Tell me what I don’t know.”
KC took his regular seat at the bar and a sigh eased from his body as he scooped a handful of nuts. For thirty-two years he’d been coming here, enjoying a beer or two and sorting his thoughts about the job before going home. Rudy’s allowed him to transition from the job to home.
Hard to believe that soon he’d not need the transition. The job would be gone and there would only be home. Jesus. As much as he’d bitched about the job over the years he really didn’t know what the hell he’d do without it.
A cold beer settled in front of him and KC glanced up at Rudy. “Thanks.”
“Countdown is coming. Two days or three.”
“Two. Fast and furious.”
Rudy had listened to KC a lot over the last three and a half decades. He listened when KC had a case that would not let him go. He listened when he was hyped about an arrest. And lately he’d listened as KC hinted at the worries nagging him about the future.
“So are they giving you a party?”
KC took a healthy gulp of beer. “I told them I didn’t want one and then my gal Brenda said I had to go out in style. That’s part of the reason I’m here.”
“How’s that?”
“She thought it might be fun to hold the party here.”
Rudy wiped his hands on a white rag. “Why here?”
“It’s not the office and it’s not home. The bridge in between.” KC took a gulp of beer. “Rudy’s has been my home away from home over the years and it’s a fitting place to end a career and start a new life.”
Rudy sniffed. “Yeah sure, if you want to have a party here, go ahead. A weeknight is best. Not so crazed.”
“That will work. How about Monday?”
“Sure.”
KC sipped more beer and glanced up at the television playing behind Rudy. It was on mute but when the picture of Annie Rivers Dawson flashed he didn’t need sound to know what was being said. He tipped his beer toward the screen. “Been following that story?”
Rudy glanced back and frowned. “Ain’t that some shit.”
A bitter taste soured the beer. “Thirty years since a righteous conviction and some attorney wants to unravel it all.”
“She’s making a name for herself. In a week people won’t care about her request.”
KC shook his head. “If the last thirty years have taught me anything, it’s that any good case can be undone. Any case. The right attorney can knot up the truth and twist it in all sorts of ways.”
Rudy took KC’s mug and refilled it. “That was a bitch of a cas
e. I remember you talking about it and the brutal hours you all worked. All you cops looked like the walking dead.”
“Had us tied in knots. Shit. I had nightmares about that crime scene for years.”
The lines in Rudy’s face deepened with a frown. “I can’t imagine.”
“We were all afraid he’d get off. Without a body we knew a conviction would be tough.”
“But you found her. Gave her a proper burial and sent the bad guy to jail.”
KC raised his mug in salute. “Yeah. God bless, anonymous tipster.”
Rudy glanced back at the television. “You think the DNA is gonna go against you?”
“Hell no. I don’t.”
