Black-Eyed Susans

Acknowledgments

This book took an army of kind, brilliant human beings-scientists, therapists, and legal experts-who generously advised me about cutting-edge DNA science, the impact of psychic trauma on teen-agers, and the slow path to a Texas execution.

Mitochondrial DNA whiz and Oklahoma girl Rhonda Roby consulted on Black-Eyed Susans over text, phone, email, and beer. She also shared her profound experiences identifying victims of serial killers, the Vietnam War, Pinochet, plane crashes, and 9/11. She stood with some of the best scientists in the world at Ground Zero in the days after the attack, and spent years getting answers for families. Her personality, expertise, and humanity are woven throughout this book. And that crazy deer story? It’s true. Rhonda now works a dream job as a professor at the J. Craig Venter Institute.

The University of North Texas Center for Human Identification in Fort Worth is represented with a little fictional license, but not much. Its mission, under Arthur Eisenberg, is beyond imagining-to put names to unidentified bones when no one else can. Law enforcement agencies from all over the world send their coldest cases here. And, yes, UNTCHI did identify one of the unidentified victims of serial killer John Wayne Gacy thirty-three years after his remains were dug out of a crawl space under a Chicago house.

George Dimitrov Kamenov, a geochemist at the University of Florida, opened my mind to the miracle of isotope analysis and its current use in solving crimes and identifying old bones. He made me understand, more than anyone ever has, that we are the earth. George also inspired one of my favorite twists.

Nancy Giles, a longtime children’s therapist, provided intricate detail about how both good and bad therapists operate and a reading list of psychiatric textbooks (Shattered Assumptions, Too Scared to Cry, Trauma and Recovery) that changed the course of this book. I was also aided by her son, Robert Giles III, an expert with the Child Assistance Program in the Judge Advocate General’s Corps for the U.S. Navy, and his wife, Kelly Giles, a therapist who has dedicated a good portion of her life to treating abused children. Nancy’s husband, Bob Giles, a two-time Pulitzer Prize-winning editor and former boss of mine, believed in me early in my journalism career. He’s a big reason why I eventually had the crazy confidence to write a book.

David Dow, a renowned Texas death penalty attorney, jumped right into the imaginary plot of my book and told me how he’d handle the case. What I didn’t expect is that he’d end up feeding the philosophical core of one of my characters. His memoir, The Autobiography of an Execution, is unforgettable, and I highly recommend it no matter how you feel about the death penalty.

One of David’s former Death Row clients, Anthony Graves, took time out of a precious day of freedom to chat with me on the phone and share his experiences as an innocent man behind bars. He spent eighteen years in prison, falsely accused of killing a family of six. Now free, he operates with a spiritual confidence that makes most of us puny by comparison. Check out his tireless advocacy at www.anthonybelieves.com.

Dennis Longmire, a professor at Sam Houston State University, has shown up for years as a steadfast regular at Texas executions. He holds a battery-operated Christmas candle. One chilly night in front of the Texas Death House, he and other regulars explained the matter-of-fact reality of executions to me. John Moritz, a former Fort Worth Star-Telegram reporter who witnessed more than a dozen executions, provided additional detail.

The mother-daughter team of Mary and Mary Clegg, who run the Whistler bed and breakfast just blocks away from the infamous Walls Unit, revealed the softer side of Huntsville, Texas. I took a little fictional license with the ghosts of their beautiful ancestral home, but they did serve me the most delicious Dutch baby pancake I ever ate. Anyone who stops in Huntsville, don’t miss the Marys.

I’d also like to note an article by Cathy A. Malchiodi about the use of art intervention with traumatized children. She detailed the case of little “Tessa” and a dollhouse, which I’ve included as an anecdote in this book.

Laura Gaydosh Combs led me to information on fetal bones.

Black-Eyed Susans is fiction, but it was important to me that the forensic science, the role of therapy in psychic trauma, and the legal path of Texas executions be rooted in truth. If there are any mistakes or flights of fancy, they are mine.

I’d also like to thank:

Christopher Kelly, a phenomenal friend and writer who is a critic when I need one and a shoulder to cry on when I don’t.

Kirstin Herrera, the only pal I know who would take me up on a grim invitation to stand outside the Texas death chamber on the night of an execution.

Christina Kowal, for handing me the Big Mac line from the backseat and for inhabiting part of Charlie. Also her mom, dear cuz Melissa.

Sam Kaskovich, my son, for drawing mustaches on Jane Eyre, thinking trophies are braggy, and operating with such faith and kindness. This book is passionately dedicated to him.

Kay Schnurman, who makes magic out of thread and steel and was the inspiration for Tessa’s artistic side.

Chuck and Sue Heaberlin, my parents, who must wonder why all this dark stuff jumps from my head to paper, but are proud of me anyway.

At Random House, a village: Kate Miciak, my editor, a bulldog and a poet who executes the best line edits on the planet; Jennifer Hershey, an early champion of Black-Eyed Susans; Libby McGuire; Rachel Kind and her foreign rights team; my rockin’ publicist, Lindsey Kennedy. And the people who save me from my errors and turn a book into a beautiful package: production editor Loren Noveck, copy editor Pam Feinstein, production manager Angela McNally, text designer Dana Leigh Blanchette, and cover designers Lee Motley and Belina Huey.

Also, Kathy Harris for an early copy edit.

Maxine Hitchcock at Michael Joseph/Penguin UK, for her enthusiastic support of this book and my career.

Danielle Perez. I won’t forget. Thank you.

Steve Kaskovich, my husband, therapist, and early reader. The luckiest day of my life was when he threw those Mardi Gras beads across a newsroom and then asked me out until I said yes.

Garland E. Wilson, artist, morgue photographer, singer, and storyteller. He was the best grandfather a girl could have. I miss your creepy basement.

And, finally and most emphatically of all, my agent, Pam Ahearn, who was there at every twist and turn of these pages. She never stopped believing in this book or in me. I will be forever grateful.