Robbie Flak and his little team stood by and watched the circus for two hours. Not long after the sheriff arrived and saw that there was indeed a grave site, Roop's Mountain attracted every cop within fifty miles. Local deputies, state troopers, the county coroner, investigators1 from the Missouri State Highway Patrol, and, finally, a crime scene expert. Radios squawked, men yelled, a helicopter hovered2 overhead. When the news arrived that Boyette had vanished, cops cursed his name as if they had known him forever. Robbie called Keith's cell phone and passed along the news. Keith explained what had happened at the hospital. He could not imagine Boyette being physically3 able to go far. They agreed that he would be caught, and soon.
By 2:00 p.m., Robbie was tired of the scene. He had told his story and answered a thousand questions from the investigators, there was nothing left to do. They had found Nicole Yarber, and they were ready to return to Slone and face a multitude of issues. Bryan Day had enough footage for a miniseries, but would be forced to sit on it for a few hours. Robbie informed the sheriff that they were leaving. The caravan4, minus the Subaru, worked its way through the traffic until it was back on the highway and headed south. Carlos e-mailed dozens of photographs to the office, as well as the video. A presentation was being put together.
"Can we talk?" Martha Handler asked after a few minutes on the road.
"No," Robbie answered.
"You talked to the police, what's next?"
"They will keep the remains5 in the toolbox and move it all to a satellite crime lab in Joplin. They will do what they do, and we'll see."
"What will they look for?"
"Well, first they will attempt to identify the body using dental records. That should be easy, probably take a few hours. We may hear something tonight."
"They have her dental records?"
"I gave them a set. Before Donte's trial, the prosecution6 dumped several boxes of discovery on us a week before we picked the jury. Not surprisingly, the prosecution screwed up, and in one file there was a set of X-rays of Nicole's teeth. Several sets were floating around during the initial days of the search, and Koffee had one. He inadvertently gave it to us. It was no big deal because her dental records were not an issue at trial. As we know, there was no dead body. A year later, I sent the file back to Koffee, but I made a copy for myself. Who knows what you'll need one day?"
"Did he know you kept a copy?"
"I don't remember, but I doubt it. It's no big deal."
"There's no violation7 of privacy here?"
"Of course not. Whose privacy? Nicole's?"
Martha scribbled8 notes as her tape recorder ran on. Robbie closed his eyes and tried not to frown.
"What else will they look for?" she asked.
Robbie frowned but did not open his eyes. "Cause of death in a strangulation case is impossible after nine years. They'll look for DNA9 evidence, maybe in dried blood or hair. Nothing else--semen, skin, saliva10, earwax, sweat--none of it holds up after this long in a decomposing11 corpse12."
"Does DNA matter? I mean, we know who killed her."
"We do, but I would love to have the DNA proof. If we get it, then this will be the first case in U.S. history in which we know by DNA evidence that the wrong man has been executed. There are a dozen or so cases where we strongly suspect the state killed the wrong guy, but none with clear biological proof. Would you like a drink? I need a drink."
"No."
"A drink, Carlos?"
"Sure. I'll take a beer."
"Aaron?"
"Driving, Boss."
"Just joking."
Robbie pulled two beers out of the fridge and handed one to Carlos. After a long drink from the bottle, he closed his eyes again.
"What are you thinking?" Martha asked.
"Boyette, Travis Boyette. We came so close, and if he had just given us twenty-four hours, we could have saved Donte. Now we just deal with the aftermath."
"What happens to Boyette?"
"They'll indict13 him for murder here in Missouri. If he lives long enough, they'll prosecute14 him."
"Will he be prosecuted15 in Texas?"
"Of course not. They will never, ever admit they killed the wrong guy. Koffee, Kerber, Judge Vivian Grale, the jurors, the appellate judges, the governor--none of those responsible for this travesty16 will ever admit fault. Watch 'em run. Watch 'em point fingers. Maybe they won't deny their mistakes, but they damned sure won't admit them. I suspect they will just keep quiet, hunker down, ride out the storm."
"Can they?"
Another pull on the bottle. Robbie smiled at the beer and licked his lips. "No cop has ever been indicted17 for a wrongful conviction. Kerber should go to jail. Koffee should too. They are directly responsible for Donte's conviction, but Koffee controls the grand jury. He's in charge of the system. So, criminal prosecutions18 are unlikely, unless, of course, I can convince the Justice Department to investigate. I will certainly try. And we still have the civil courts."
"Oh yes, lots of them. I'll sue everybody. Can't wait."
"Thought you were moving to Vermont."
"I may have to put that on hold. I'm not quite finished here."
The Slone Municipal School Board met in an emergency session at 2:00 Friday afternoon. The only item on the agenda was the game. Longview was scheduled to arrive at 5:00 p.m. for a 7:30 p.m. kickoff. The school officials and coaches in Longview were worried about the safety of their players and fans, and with good reason. The unrest in Slone was now routinely being referred to as a "race riot," a sensational20 description that was as inaccurate21 as it was catchy22.
There had been a constant flow of threatening phone calls to the Slone Police Department and the school. If they tried to play the game, there would be trouble, and lots of it. The chief of police, Joe Radford, pleaded with the board to cancel the game, or somehow postpone23 it. A crowd of five thousand people, almost all of whom would be white, would provide too enticing24 a target for those wanting trouble. And just as troubling was the prospect25 of all the empty and unprotected homes of the fans during the game. The football coach admitted he really didn't want to play either. The kids were too distracted, not to mention the fact that his best players, the twenty-eight black ones, were boycotting26. His star tailback, Trey Glover, was still in jail. Both teams had six wins and two losses and were eligible28 for the state play-offs. The coach knew he had no chance with an all-white team. But a forfeit29 was a loss, and this perplexed30 him and everybody else in the room.
The principal described the burned-out press box, the tension of the past two days, the canceled classes, and the phone threats his office had received throughout the day. He was exhausted31 and jumpy and practically begged the board to cancel.
A honcho from the National Guard reluctantly attended the meeting. He thought it was possible to secure the stadium area and play the game without incident. But he shared the chief's concerns about what might happen in the rest of the town for the three hours. When pressed, he admitted that the safest route was to cancel.
The board members squirmed and fretted32 and passed notes. While they routinely grappled with budgets and curriculum and discipline and dozens of important issues, they had never been faced with something as momentous33 as canceling a high school football game. They stood for election every four years, and the prospect of alienating34 the voters weighed heavily. If they voted to cancel and Slone was forced to forfeit, they would be seen as caving in to the boycotters and troublemakers35. If they voted to play and people got hurt in an ugly incident, their opponents would lay blame on them.
A compromise was suggested, seized upon, and quickly gained momentum36. A flurry of phone calls were made, and the compromise became a reality. The game would not be played that night in Slone; rather, it would be played the following day at an undisclosed site in a nearby town. Longview agreed. Their coach knew of the boycott27 and smelled blood. The location of the neutral site would be kept secret until two hours before kickoff. Both teams would drive about an hour, play the game without spectators, and the show would go on. The compromise pleased everyone but the head coach. He gamely gritted37 his teeth and predicted a win. What else could he do?
Throughout the morning and into the afternoon, the train station had been a magnet for reporters. It was the last place Boyette had been seen, and he was in demand. His chilling confession38 had been on the nonstop cable loop for almost a full day now, but his past had caught up with him. His colorful criminal record was in play, his credibility in serious question. Experts of all stripes were on the air, proffering39 opinions about his background, his profile, his motives40. One windbag41 flat out called him a liar42 and went on and on about how "these creeps" want their fifteen minutes of fame and enjoy tormenting43 the families of victims. A former Texas prosecutor44 opined as to the fairness of the Drumm trial and appeals and assured those listening that all was well with the system. Boyette was obviously a nut job.
As the saga45 wore on, it lost some of its shock value. Boyette wasn't around anymore to add details, or to defend himself. And neither was Robbie Flak. The reporters knew that Flak's car was not at the office. Where was he?
Inside the station, Sammie Thomas, Bonnie, and Fanta adopted a siege mentality46 and tried to work. It was impossible. The phones rang and rang, and every hour or so one of the ruder reporters would almost make it to the front door before being accosted47 by one of the security guards. With time, the mob began to understand that Boyette wasn't there, and neither was Robbie.
Out of boredom48, the reporters left and drove around Slone looking for a fire or a fight. To get to the bottom of things, they interviewed guardsmen as they walked the streets, and they filmed and re-filmed the burned-out churches and buildings. They talked to angry young blacks outside of pool halls and honky-tonks, and they stuck microphones into pickup49 trucks for priceless comments from white vigilantes. Bored again, they returned to the train station and waited on some word from Boyette. Where the hell was he?
By late afternoon, a crowd was beginning to assemble in Washington Park. News of this development spread through the media, and off they went. Their presence attracted more young blacks, and soon the rap was booming and fireworks were popping. It was Friday night--payday, beer day, the start of the weekend, time to blow off some steam.
The tension was rising.
Some forty hours after leaving the parsonage with an unwanted passenger, Keith returned to it, alone. When he turned off the ignition, he sat in the car for a moment to get his bearings. Dana was waiting at the kitchen door with a hug and a kiss and a very pleasant "You look tired."
"I'm fine," he said. "Just need a good night's sleep. Where are the boys?"
The boys were at the table eating ravioli. They jumped at their father as if he'd been gone for a month. Clay, the oldest, was dressed in his soccer uniform, ready for a game. After a long hug, the family sat down and finished dinner.
In the bedroom, Keith dressed after a quick shower as Dana sat on the bed and watched him. She was saying, "Not a word from anyone around here. I've talked to Matthew a few times. We're watching the news and spending hours online. Your name has not been mentioned anywhere. A thousand photos, but no sign of you. The church thinks you were called away on some emergency, so no suspicions there. We might get lucky."
"What's the latest from Slone?"
"Not much. They postponed50 the football game tonight, and that was reported as urgently as a major plane crash."
"No news from Missouri?"
"Not a word."
"It'll blow up soon enough. I can't imagine the shock waves when they announce they have found the body of Nicole Yarber. The town will explode."
"When will it happen?"
"I don't know. I'm not sure what Robbie's plans are."
"Robbie? You sound like you're old friends."
"We are. I met him yesterday, but we have traveled a long way together."
"I'm proud of you, Keith. What you did was crazy, but it was also courageous51."
"I don't feel brave. I'm not sure what I feel right now. More shock than anything else. I think I'm still numb52. It was a rather unique adventure, but we failed."
"You tried."
Keith pulled on a sweater, tucked in his shirttail, and said, "I just hope they catch Boyette. What if he finds another victim?"
"Come on, Keith, he's a dying man."
"But he left his cane53 behind, Dana. Can you explain that? I've been around the guy for five days--seems like a year--and he had trouble walking without the cane. Why would he leave it behind?"
"Maybe he thought he would be easier to spot with a cane."
Keith pulled his belt tight and buckled54 it. "He was fixated on you, Dana. He mentioned you several times, something like, 'That cute little wife of yours.' "
"I'm not worried about Travis Boyette. He'd be a fool to come back to Topeka."
"He's done dumber things. Look at all the arrests."
"We need to go. The game is at 6:30."
"I can't wait. I need something to distract me. Do we have a bottle of Communion wine around here?"
"I think so."
"Good. I need a drink. Let's go watch a little soccer, then we'll spend the rest of the night debriefing55."
"I want to hear everything."
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investigators
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| n.调查者，审查者( investigator的名词复数 ) | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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DNA
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| (缩)deoxyribonucleic acid 脱氧核糖核酸 | |
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saliva
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| n.唾液，口水 | |
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decomposing
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| 腐烂( decompose的现在分词 )； （使）分解； 分解（某物质、光线等） | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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indict
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| v.起诉，控告，指控 | |
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prosecute
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| vt.告发；进行；vi.告发，起诉，作检察官 | |
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prosecuted
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| a.被起诉的 | |
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travesty
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| n.歪曲，嘲弄，滑稽化 | |
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indicted
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| 控告，起诉( indict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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prosecutions
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| 起诉( prosecution的名词复数 )； 原告； 实施； 从事 | |
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lawsuits
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| n.诉讼( lawsuit的名词复数 ) | |
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sensational
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| adj.使人感动的，非常好的，轰动的，耸人听闻的 | |
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inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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catchy
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| adj.易记住的，诡诈的，易使人上当的 | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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enticing
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| adj.迷人的；诱人的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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boycotting
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| 抵制，拒绝参加( boycott的现在分词 ) | |
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boycott
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| n./v.(联合)抵制，拒绝参与 | |
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eligible
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| adj.有条件被选中的；(尤指婚姻等)合适(意)的 | |
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forfeit
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| vt.丧失；n.罚金，罚款，没收物 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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alienating
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| v.使疏远( alienate的现在分词 )；使不友好；转让；让渡（财产等） | |
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troublemakers
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| n.惹是生非者，捣乱者( troublemaker的名词复数 ) | |
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momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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gritted
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| v.以沙砾覆盖（某物），撒沙砾于( grit的过去式和过去分词 )；咬紧牙关 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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proffering
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的现在分词 ) | |
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motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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windbag
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| n.风囊，饶舌之人，好说话的人 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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prosecutor
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| n.起诉人；检察官，公诉人 | |
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saga
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| n.(尤指中世纪北欧海盗的)故事，英雄传奇 | |
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mentality
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| n.心理，思想，脑力 | |
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accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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pickup
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| n.拾起，获得 | |
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postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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cane
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| n.手杖，细长的茎，藤条；v.以杖击，以藤编制的 | |
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buckled
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| a. 有带扣的 | |
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debriefing
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| n.任务报告，任务报告中提出的情报v.向（外交人员等）询问执行任务的情况( debrief的现在分词 ) | |
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