She got out and crossed the field to the game. Creed’s parents stood apart from the stands, their expressions grim. They both looked tired, as if they hadn’t been sleeping, but when a little boy called out, “Grandma! Grandpa!” their expressions changed. They smiled as he ran to them for hugs.
As the boy went to join his team, a younger man and woman—the boy’s parents, probably—talked quietly with the Kershaws. Holly took a seat on the bleachers as they set up lawn chairs away from the others. She couldn’t hear them talking, but Mrs. Kershaw wiped tears, then hugged the young woman. Creed’s sister?
She sat for a while, half-following the hilarity of the game—kids chasing butterflies in the outfield, hitting the ball and running to third base instead of first, parents cheering madly even when their kids didn’t hit the ball. She couldn’t wait until Lily could play. She watched from behind her sunglasses as the Kershaws cheered for their grandchild, even though she knew their hearts were breaking over their son’s plight. Did they fear he was dead? Did they assume he was hiding? Was this just one more thing in a long history of catastrophes he’d brought on their family?
She could see how focused they were on their grandchild. And they were Lily’s grandparents too. Watching them made her more determined than ever to keep them from claiming Lily. This couple would never simply walk away from a grandchild.
When the game was over, she drove back to the restaurant. From the cab in the parking lot, she used their Wi-Fi signal to find out what she could about Creed’s parents and sister. Frank
Kershaw was a building contractor, and Sandra, his mother, was a third-grade teacher. They had no arrests—not even any traffic violations. Neither did his sister, Kelsey.
Creed must be a huge disappointment to them.
As darkness fell, she watched the door for the employees to leave. At nine o’clock, Brittany came out, got into her car, and sat there a moment. Holly wrote down her tag number to look up later. When Brittany pulled away, Holly followed.
“Take me to Creed, girl,” Holly muttered as she drove.
But Brittany didn’t take her to Creed. She only went to another bar. Holly went in a few minutes behind her and stopped in the front area behind a plant, looking around the dark room.
There she was, joining a table of women, each of whom hugged her when she arrived, as if consoling her for some loss. They were there to commiserate with her. It was unlikely Creed would be here.
Disappointed, Holly headed back home. Tonight was a dead end, but she wouldn’t give up. She would try again tomorrow.
T
he last thing Cathy wanted tonight was to dress up in formal wear and schmooze at the governor’s dinner, but it had to be done. She looked in her rearview mirror at the earrings she wore, hanging to her jawline and catching the light. She wore a necklace that looked expensive, although she’d bought it secondhand in a thrift shop. She drove through the gates of the mansion and up the circular drive. When she stopped, a valet came to her door. She grabbed her clutch bag and slipped out, trying not to wobble on her heels. Why had she worn these anyway? They were too high and she hadn’t worn them in months, but she stretched herself to her full height and tried to walk like a runway model up the steps and into the white mansion. Men in tuxedos stood at the door, checking invitations. She pulled her press pass out of her bag and showed it to one of them.
“Yes, Ms. Cramer. Take the doors to the right and you’ll see your table.”
“Thank you.” She walked into the foyer crowded with people waiting to enter the ballroom. Most of the guests looked as though they’d had red-carpet consultants. Cathy had worn her go-to black formal and hoped she looked as though she’d tried.
The mansion was warm. She would have thought they would adjust the thermostat with so many people crowded in, but Florida heat was difficult to battle. She fanned herself with her credentials as she waited to make her way to the door. As she did, she scanned faces. If she could just get an introduction to the governor . . . if she could just speak to him for two minutes . . . Then she could leave and she wouldn’t have to suffer through the whole program.
Once past the bottleneck at the door, she scouted out her table and found her name card. She’d been seated between two other press members—one of the anchors from the local NBC affiliate, and a newspaper editor. Disappointed, she checked the name cards around the rest of the table. The one directly across from her was the governor’s press secretary, Jeremy Brix. Quickly, she swapped his card with the one next to her, ensuring that she was seated next to him.
If no one moved his card back to where it had been, she would at least have the chance to pitch Michael’s story to him. It was one more avenue to get to the governor, to put a bug in his ear. She scanned the crowd. It didn’t appear that the governor had shown up yet. He would probably make his entrance at the last moment.
She recognized some of the astronauts who were the evening’s guests of honor—they all wore special name tags. She had no professional interest in what they would say tonight, even though, under different circumstances, she was sure she would have hung on every word.
“So I see you made it.”
She turned to see Ned Garrison, the governor’s administrative assistant. “Hi, Ned,” she said, applying her most charming smile. “Thanks so much for getting me a pass. I really appreciate it.”
“Well, don’t abuse it, okay? The governor is focused on the space program tonight.”
“I know, but if I could just speak to him for two minutes.”
“Good luck with that. Everybody here wants to see him for two minutes. And by the way, your fans have broadsided us with mail. It’s getting a little annoying.”
“Great,” Cathy said. “At least it’s gotten your attention. And they’re my
readers
, not fans. They just agree with me that Michael shouldn’t be in jail.”
“Everybody in jail feels they shouldn’t be there. The bottom line is that he broke the law, and that’s all that matters.”
“It is
not
all that matters!” Cathy said too loudly. “He shouldn’t have had a felony conviction in the first place. He didn’t do anything wrong—
everybody
knows that. The woman had dementia—”
He raised his hand, cutting her off. “Cathy, I don’t have time for this. Enjoy yourself, but please, don’t make me sorry I got you the pass.”
Cathy shrank back, scowling at him as he walked away. She had gone to college with Ned—the only reason he was doing her a favor now. He had majored in political science, then gone to work for the governor’s office a few years ago in a lower-level position. He’d managed to climb his way up, and she didn’t blame him for not wanting to mess that up. But how could pardoning a wrongly convicted man mess things up?
While she waited for the program to start, she made her
way to everyone she could identify in the room who might have some clout with the governor. She talked to both of her senators, two congressmen, the Panama City mayor, and every staff member she could identify. They all expressed sympathy and compassion for Michael. They had all heard of his case. They all said they would put in a word with the governor, but she doubted any of them would remember. What was he to them? Just another man behind bars. But he wasn’t just another man. He was a hero, a man who had saved so many lives, who had temporarily disrupted the drug flow into the entire panhandle.
A man who was the love of her life.
Before the governor finally made his entrance, everyone was asked to take their seats. Cathy gravitated back to her table, where some of her press colleagues were already in their places. Thankfully, the cards hadn’t been moved—the press secretary came a few minutes after the waitstaff began serving dinner and took his place beside her. He introduced himself to everyone around the table as if they didn’t already know him.
Cathy waited until they were halfway through the dinner, chatting about the space program and all that it meant to the US, before she brought up Michael. “Listen, Jeremy,” she said, leaning toward him and lowering her voice, “I have an idea for a great PR story for the governor. A good news opportunity that would really make him look like a prince in the next election.”
Jeremy gave her a sideways look. “Really? Let’s hear it.”
“Do you remember Michael Hogan?”
“The cop?” Jeremy asked.
She nodded. “Michael is serving time in prison right now.” She quickly updated him on the felony conviction that should never have been, and the case a few months ago when he had violated probation by using a weapon to rescue her sister. “He
even got shot himself. It was a matter of life and death. He shouldn’t be in prison because of it.”
“I remember all that. No question, the guy’s a real hero,” Jeremy said. “But what do you want the governor to do? He doesn’t give pardons. That was one of his campaign promises. He’s not going to go back on that.”
“But if he made this one exception, I think it would spread goodwill. There are a lot of people who know that Michael shouldn’t be behind bars. He’s already served two months. That’s more than enough. We need people like him out there fighting crime in our community, not being lumped in with the bad guys himself. If Michael got a pardon, his felony record would be wiped clean, and he could go back to carrying a weapon and being a cop. He could get back to hunting down bad guys, rather than being considered one of them.”
Jeremy considered that as he cut into his chicken. “I can’t argue with that, but the governor is a stickler about keeping campaign promises. His opponents would jump on it if he went back on his word.”
“So you believe the governor cares more about political expediency than about doing the right thing?” When Jeremy rolled his eyes, Cathy wondered if she’d gone too far. “Can’t he just explain that he got a dose of common sense and decided that this wrong needs to be righted?”
“Then he’d be barraged with pardon requests.”
“Isn’t he already? And anyway, what difference does that make? He doesn’t have to process those himself. This is one case where he could break that pledge and people would applaud him. A good man’s life is at stake.”
Jeremy shook his head. “No, it’s not. He got a year. He’ll serve six months.”
“But he’ll be a felon for the rest of his life! He lost his police career over this, and he was good at what he did. Even after leaving the police force—even without a weapon—he got scumbags off the street.”
Jeremy took a bite of his dessert, chewed for a moment. Was he considering her request or had she lost him already? Tears rimmed her eyes. “Jeremy, he’s a good man. He needs consideration. And if he got pardoned, I would make you and the governor absolute heroes. I would talk it up on my blog, and people would be touting the governor as compassionate and clear minded.”
Jeremy took another bite, chewed for a long moment. “Let me think about it,” he said. Then he turned and started a conversation with the person on the other side of him.
Cathy let out a hard sigh. That had gone nowhere. As those around her chatted and worked on their cheesecake, she noticed that several people had crossed the room for photo ops with the governor.
Sliding her chair back, she excused herself and went out as if going to the restroom, then went back in through the door closer to where the governor stood. She made her way along the wall, up toward the group around him.
She waited as two or three more people had pictures taken with him, praying that he wouldn’t be called to the next activity before her turn. Finally, she made her way to his side.
“Governor Larimore, hi,” she said in her most charming voice. “Cathy Cramer.”
He smiled and lifted his chin. “Of the blog,
Cat’s Curious
?”
She smiled. “Yes, you read my blog?”
“I don’t have the time I once did, but I used to. I like your work.”
“I’m honored,” she said.
“Did you want a picture?” one of his aides asked her.
“Sure.” She smiled and leaned in as the photographer came closer. “Governor,” she said quickly before someone else could intrude, “I just wanted to call your attention to a letter-writing campaign going on right now. A lot of people are trying to get Michael Hogan under consideration as someone you should pardon.”
The governor shook his head. “Cathy, you know I made a promise.”
“I know,” she cut in, launching into her sales pitch. “It was all a terrible mistake, as everybody who followed that trial was aware. Wouldn’t it be a great PR move for you if you agreed to make an exception for a local hero?”
The governor narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you engaged to him? Didn’t I read that somewhere?”
She hoped that wouldn’t make a difference. “Yes, as a matter of fact. But I would do this for him even if we weren’t getting married. My first fiancé was Michael’s brother, and he was murdered. Michael lost his career because of that case, and the killer is still on the street, literally getting away with murder, not to mention several other crimes. It’s just so wrong that Michael is serving time—”
“Excuse me,” an aide said, cutting in to her speech. “Governor, it’s time for you to speak.”
Governor Larimore touched Cathy’s elbow. “It’s nice to meet you, Cathy.”
She couldn’t let him go. “Governor, please consider it. Just read the letters and the package that I sent you.”
“Thank you, Cathy,” he said. “No promises.” He walked away.
Cathy stood clutching her purse and trying not to cry. She
lifted her chin and looked around. Was there anyone else in the room she should talk to?
The lights began to lower and the spotlight at the podium came on. The program was about to begin.
Quickly, she headed out of the room and down the steps of the mansion. The valet brought her car. She didn’t let herself cry until she got behind the wheel.
W
hat am I supposed to do with these?” Cathy stood the next morning at Juliet’s kitchen table, puzzling over the rolled-up diapers, the tutu, and the pink headbands and bows.
Juliet was holding Robbie on her hip while decorating her end table. “You make it into a centerpiece. Stand the diaper rolls on end and put the tutu around them. The headbands go around the top.” She thrust a green stuffed bear at her. “Stick this in the top. You can figure it out.”