Page 13 of Justice Delayed

“I know you went to live with your aunt and uncle at sixteen.” Without referencing a notebook, Brogan recited that fact from memory. “A year later, just shy of your eighteenth birthday, you were convicted of killing your one-year-old cousin, Jesse Thompson. But although the body was never found, you were sentenced to seventeen years. You served all your time, even though you were eligible for parole after ten years.”

Melender blinked back tears. She’d spent nearly half her life behind bars for a crime she hadn’t committed.

“So why am I here?” Brogan shifted his sunglasses on the tabletop. “A jury convicted you. You served your time. Justice has been served.”

“Not if the wrong person went to prison. Not if whoever took Jesse is still out there. Free.”

“I’d read that you never wavered from proclaiming your innocence.”

“I am innocent.”

He snorted. “That’s what they all say, isn’t it?”

“They?” His dismissive tone spiked her blood pressure along with her voice. “You mean convicted felons.”

“You did the time.” He shrugged.

“Yes, I did. Every single minute of it.” Her voice shook, and she paused to gather the shreds of her composure like a child trying to repair a sandcastle after a wave crashed over it.

“I don’t expect you to believe that I am not guilty of this crime. But there are things that don’t make any sense, avenues the police didn’t pursue because they thought they had their perpetrator.”

His expression unreadable, Brogan leaned in. “What avenues?”

“The ransom money for one thing. It was never recovered. There was never any evidence linking me to the financial aspect of the case at all.”

Disbelief flashed across his face, tightening the faint lines on his forehead and around his mouth.

“Read the court transcript, and you’ll see that the prosecutor did not even try to pin the ransom on me.”

He sat back. “Okay, I will.”

“There’s the lack of a body.”

“That’s what your aunt attacked you about, wanting to know where you buried her son.”

“I didn’t bury anybody!” She lowered her voice, frustration nibbling along her spine. She had to convince Brogan to help her. She couldn’t find the killer on her own, especially not with Quentin watching her every move. And she had no doubt he would hire someone to keep a close eye on her. Should she warn Brogan to be careful? Maybe not yet. She couldn’t afford to have him thinking she was paranoid. “The prosecutor’s case was all circumstantial evidence that could be interpreted differently if you start at another point.”

“That point being you’re innocent of killing Jesse?”

“That’s right.” A wave of tiredness enveloped her, and she slumped against the back of her chair. “Look, I’m not asking you to believe in my innocence. All I’m asking is that you read the court transcript. If you think I deserved what I got, then no harm, no foul. However, if you see the trial as a miscarriage of justice, then please help me find out what really happened to Jesse.”

The silence built between them as squeals from children splashing in the fountain a few feet away filled the air.

“I Googled you too.” She let the statement pull up a chair and sit down. “You were a very good investigative journalist, despite your unethical ways of getting to the truth.”

His cavalier expression wavered as he dropped his gaze.

“Sometimes, the path to redemption takes some strange turns,” she said softly.

Brogan jerked his head up, meeting her gaze straight on. “You think this investigation could be that path for me.”

“Maybe it’s redemption for both of us.” She firmed her lips. “It depends on you.”

“The truth should matter more than one person, one byline, one story. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way.”

“Now you do?” Melender noted the lines of fatigue around the corners of his eyes. This may well be a man with as many demons as she had.

“I want to seek the truth, no matter the personal or professional consequences.” Brogan paused. “But I can’t promise what I find will be what you want to hear.”

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