Conviction

SIXTEEN

TAUT, TERRI STARED ACROSS THE TABLE AT PAYTON PRICE. "LET me get this right," she said softly. "You're telling me that Rennell wasn't involved in Thuy Sen's death."

Payton smiled. "I talk too fast for you to hear?"

"Then Flora Lewis couldn't have seen him."

The sardonic glint lingered in Payton's eyes. "It's like I say, all white people see alike. But that black cop Monk should have asked hisself how Eddie Fleet knew so much. Almost like Eddie was there."

Terri sat back. "Of course," she said. "Because he was."

* * *

They're high on crack, Payton and Eddie, sitting on Grandma's porch. Payton's keeping time in his head to some hip-hop music. When the girl comes by, Payton doesn't notice her. But then he can hardly see.

Eddie's staring at the street. "Wonder if she'd like to party."

After a time, Payton tracks his gaze to this slender Asian child passing their house with eyes glued to the sidewalk. The idea makes so little sense Payton says nothing at all. Still keeping time, he shuts his eyes.

"Who she gonna tell, man?" he hears Eddie mumble.

It seems like crack's turning Eddie's sex drive inside out. Before Payton can focus, Eddie's calling out to her. Then the porch starts creaking with Eddie's footsteps like it's Payton's own pulse beating.

* * *

Paul Rubin studied his client, eyes narrow. "The man Lewis saw with her," Terri said. "That was Eddie Fleet."

Payton looked away. "Eddie was wearin' a big hooded sweatshirt, like Rennell wore mostly. So that dried up old bitch thinks she saw Rennell goin' after some nine-year-old." His voice held a quiet bitterness. "What she know about that poor fool, 'ceptin' what she saw every time she be peekin' at us out the window—somebody big and black and scary enough to do every kind of de-prav-ity."

Terri felt an anger of her own. "Someone did," she said. "Just not Rennell."

Her tone doused the edge in Payton's voice. "Someone did," he echoed softly.

* * *

At least it's Eddie that forces the kid to her knees.

Her eyes are closed like those of some China doll, but she's makin' these scared little noises and her body's shakin'. "Come on," Eddie says, all excited sounding, "I'll watch her do you first."

Payton's still in the zone. After a while he unzips his pants and moves toward them. But when Eddie forces her down on him, Payton feels her tears on his skin.

Shuddering, he pulls away.

It's like some fucked-up dream. Payton sees the TV's still on. He pulls up his pants and begins to watch the colored images, like what's going on behind him isn't happening.

"Keep goin', bitch," Eddie's voice says, and then Payton hears a moaning coming from Eddie's throat, another sound like coughing. On the TV there's a car chase, highway patrol after some bank robber, and then the wail of police sirens starts drowning out Eddie's cries of pleasure.

* * *

Terri felt nauseous, her skin cold.

Payton's voice was dull. " 'Mother fuck,' I hear Eddie sayin'. He wasn't excited no more." His shoulders slumped, and he continued with an air of shame. "Dumping the body went just like Eddie said in court. 'Cept it was just us two. Or us three—guess seeing that dead girl on the floor made her real."

* * *

They're standing in the dark, stink of tallow up their noses, Fleet with the girl's body in his arms. Across the water, the shadows of the loading cranes are like giant insects in some horror flick.

Payton's come all the way down now, cold wind biting into his face. "You do it," he says to Eddie. "You got all the good out of her."

Eddie doesn't argue. Standing in the sand, Payton watches him step slowly into waist-deep water, staggering in the current, side to side like fucking King Kong. Payton starts wishing the tide would sweep them both away—Eddie doesn't know how to swim.

Instead he rights himself, then just lets her go. All Payton knows is he'll always remember the girl bobbing in the water, hair swirling as she disappears from sight.

Just like Eddie told them at the trial.

* * *

Later, Eddie drops him off.

Payton walks into Grandma's living room, half-expecting to see that girl lying on the carpet, face turned sideways with her mouth still open. But all that's there is Rennell, lying on the couch so sluggish in his baggy clothes he's looking more like a pile of laundry than a person. Except he looks glad to see Payton, like always.

"Hey, bro'," he says in that slow way of his, trying to sound cool. "What's up?"

"Nothin'," Payton answers and flips the TV back on as if things are still the same. Then he feels his hands start shaking.

* * *

"Rennell never had no clue." Payton paused, his voice plangent with self-disgust. "But then he never figured I'd fuck around with no little girl. Don't know why that happened—only time I did."

"But then they'd locked you up," Terri answered coolly. "Did Eddie 'fuck around' with little girls, too?"

Still Payton averted his eyes. "Far as I know, just that one time. But it's not the kind of thing he'd go braggin' about."

"What about Rennell?"

"Rennell?" A faint smile reappeared, directed at the table. "I don't think he had sex with a woman his whole damned life, young or old. 'Ceptin' Mama when he was nine."

Terri sat back. "Let's skip Mom and Dad. You're the one who helped Eddie Fleet put your own brother on death row."

Payton gazed up at her, impassive. "Things got all screwed up. I didn't know that old white lady would be lookin' out the window, and mix up Rennell with Eddie. The plan was for Eddie and me to shut up."

* * *

The night of the day Payton sees Eddie come out of the interrogation room with Monk and the other cop, Payton meets him at the Double Rock Inn.

A few nobodies are hanging off the bar. Payton and Eddie are sitting in a dark corner drinking malt liquor, voices too quiet for the others to hear. Payton stares into his face. "You don't know nothin'," he orders. "Let the cops start fuckin' with us, we both go down. You don't want to be on trial for no dead little girl even if they're what you like best. If I ever feel you even thinkin' about any more talks with Monk, last thought you'll ever have."

Fleet looks antsy. "What Rennell know?"

"Nothin'," Payton snaps. "Think I'm the kind of fool tell secrets to a fool? Like it or not, this fucking secret belongs to you and me."

* * *

"I was right about that," Payton said to Terri. "I was more the kind of fool let Eddie set me up." He shook his head in anger and disgust. "Couldn't say nothin' against Eddie without implicatin' myself, and Rennell couldn't say or do nothin' to help. That's what Eddie figured out before me."

Pen clasped in her hand, Terri stared at her client's brother. "So you decided to help yourself. Starting with the brilliant idea of asking Jamal Harrison to cap Eddie."

Payton shrugged. "County jail was short of talent. Weren't nobody better in the next cell."

"What did Rennell know about Jamal?"

"Nothin', like always. When Jamal saw me whisperin' to Rennell, all I was tellin' him was everything was cool." Payton's voice was soft with irony. "Rennell smiled 'cause he believed me."

Dismayed, Terri rubbed her temples. "Same with Tasha Bramwell's alibi?"

"For all Rennell remembers, maybe it's true. Near as I can make out, his days sort of run together."

The full dimensions of Rennell's potential innocence, Terri realized, were hard for her to grasp. "Does anyone else know what you've just told me?"

"Just Eddie." Payton looked somber. He paused and then asked softly, "Do you know what ever happened to her? Tasha, I mean."

Surprised, Terri heard the regret in his voice, a sense of loss that involved more than his own death. "No," she answered, "I don't know anything about Tasha."

Payton closed his eyes. "She just disappeared, 'bout a week after we was convicted. Don't blame her, really, the shit I did, even things she never found out about. Just wish I knew . . ."

His voice trailed off. In a tone devoid of sentiment, Terri redirected his attention to Eddie Fleet. "Do you think Fleet told anyone what you two did?"

After a moment, Payton shrugged. "Why would he do that?"

"Why would you do that?" Terri stood, palms resting on the table as she stared down at Payton Price. "You're the smart brother, after all. So you let a judge and jury sentence Rennell to death for a sex crime committed by you and the principal prosecution witness. Then you watched him sit here for fifteen years, waiting to die, and said nothing. All to save your own ass."

Expressionless, Payton met her eyes. "Maybe so, counselor. But you tell me this—if I'm inside, and he's on the streets, how's Rennell gonna survive?" The mirthless smile returned. "Least here I could keep an eye on him."

Terri drew a breath. "But now you've found religion. At last."

Payton gave her a long, cool look. "You're a caring person, Ms. Teresa. You know Rennell can't stay here no more. Remember what they did to his ass in juvenile hall?" His voice softened. "Next place I'm goin', don't want that sucker taggin' after me. Maybe you can see to him now."

Terri sat down again. "Thank you," she said succinctly. "Too bad for 'all our sakes' it's probably too damned late. You've out-waited your credibility."

She watched the comprehension in his eyes turn to apprehension. " 'Cause now I've got nothing to lose?"

"Worse," she answered. "Now you've got something to gain—time. That's the other problem with waiting until they're ready to kill Rennell. They're planning to kill you first."