Playing Dead_ A Novel of Suspense - Allison Brennan [24]
Bill hadn’t wanted her to come to the trial at all, but Claire had to. She had to hear everything, to try to understand how her father could have killed two people. How he could have killed her mother.
Claire didn’t remember the specifics of the trial. It was as if she’d listened to every word, and imprinted the transcript in her mind, but when she tried to recall details of testimony they were fleeting, just snippets of conversation here and there.
Two weeks before she started her sophomore year in high school, her father had been convicted. The trial had only lasted eight days, but it had taken nine months to build the case.
Three days after the conviction, the judge sentenced Thomas O’Brien to death.
In the courtroom, her father had turned and stared at her, his eyes haunted.
She’d run to the bathroom and dry-heaved.
“I’ve told the truth.” Her father’s flat plea bounced in her head. I’ve told the truth. I’ve told the truth.
She could not accept it. Who else? Who else could have killed them? And why?
Her father had never admitted that he killed Lydia O’Brien and Chase Taverton. Even fifteen years of prison time and a half-dozen appeals hadn’t changed that.
And today, he’d said the same thing.
Oliver Maddox had found something. At one time, the Western Innocence Project had been interested in the case, otherwise why would they have had the files in their office?
Still, maybe Maddox was just trying to grandstand and come up with some brilliant thesis, or get himself some press, but he had to have a reason to tell his girlfriend that he had proof of “The Perfect Frame.” He had to have a solid reason to come to Claire and tell her he believed her father was innocent. He had to have something to convince her father that proof of his innocence was attainable.
She owed her dad—Claire owed herself—the truth. If not now, when? When her father was dead? When it was too late?
Tammy said Oliver was supposed to meet with his advisor, Professor Don Collier, that Monday. The missing person report would have been filed with the Davis Police Department. She needed to talk to the detective in charge and see if she could get copies of his reports—who he talked to and what they said. She didn’t know if it would help, but it might give her another path to travel.
Right now, all she had was the advisor. She’d left a message for him after talking with Tammy. She tried his number again, but when voice mail picked up, she immediately hung up.
She glanced at the time in the lower right-hand corner of her computer screen. Damn, she had to put this aside and go to her interview with Ben Holman, the owner of the warehouse that had burned down. She turned off her monitor, washed her face, and reapplied the light makeup she wore during the day.
She left in her Jeep and just as she merged onto the Business 80 toward Roseville, her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Dave Kamanski’s cell phone number. Normally she loved talking to her “brother”—the son of the man who’d taken on guardianship duty when her father had been sent to prison. Dave was ten years older than her and had been a rookie cop when she’d moved into Detective Bill Kamanski’s house. Dave had trained under her father and they’d been friends. Tom’s actions had hurt him nearly as much as they had Claire.
But now . . . Claire didn’t dare tell Dave her dad had contacted her. He was still a cop, a solid cop, and he’d insist she report it.
“Hi,” she answered.
“Kings game, seven o’clock, my house. Phil, Manny and Jill, Eric. Phil’s cooking.”
“I sure hope so,” she teased.
“Think Jayne is free tonight?”
Jayne Morgan was the computer expert at Rogan-Caruso and the closest thing Claire had to a best friend. She suspected that Dave had a crush on Jayne, but sadly