Winona knew exactly what had gotten the prosecutor’s attention. It was the test results she’d waited almost a month for. “Yesterday.”
“Oh, my God,” Sara said.
“It occurred to me that all I’d done was test the semen sample to see if it was a DNA match with my client’s. As you know, it wasn’t. I was so inexperienced, I ran with that result, certain it was enough to exonerate him. Then, about a month ago, I was talking to my sister. His wife. Anyway, she made a comment about that DNA and I realized that I’d never checked whose it was. So I sent the sample to the national database, and it matched a man named Gary Kirschner, who is currently serving a nine-year sentence at the Spring Creek Correctional Center in Seward. For rape in the first. Once we had a name, we checked the gun. Remember that unidentified fingerprint?”
“Of course,” Sara said, frowning.
“Turns out it belongs to Gary Kirschner, too.”
“Why didn’t his prints show up in 1996?”
“He hadn’t been arrested yet. He was a drifter. Meth addict who made his way through a bunch of towns around here on his way north. And before you ask, I’ll tell you that Dallas Raintree has never met Gary Kirschner.”
Sara stared down at the papers, reading through them again. “I’ll need to research this. We won’t make a snap decision. It may take some time.”
Winona stood up. “Thank you, Ms. Hamm.”
Sara nodded and kept reading.
Winona let herself out.
The big Halloween carnival at Water’s Edge is this weekend. Yippee. I hope you can read my sarcasm, Mrs. I. Not that you’re reading this journal anymore. It’s weird. I still write it to you. Why is that? I guess it’s one of your big life questions. Maybe someday I’ll ask you.
Anyway, after school I came right home to help out around the ranch. Some kids would have been pissed off by that, but they’re the kids who have friends. When you don’t, it’s totally okay to go home after school. There’s nothing worse than the ten minutes after the bell rings. Everyone meets up then. That can be lonely when you’re standing there all by yourself.
The only one I care about is Cissy. Today she almost smiled at me and my heart practically came to a stop. I know I’m totally insane but sometimes I think she still loves me.
Like it matters. She’s too scared to go against her loser dad. Oh, who cares anyway?
Winona was on the phone with Luke when her doorbell rang. “Oh, great. Someone is here,” she said sarcastically. She’d been in the middle of whining about how long the prosecuting attorney was taking to make her decision. He was the only one she could talk to about it so sometimes she went overboard. Big surprise there. The only real surprise was that he kept calling her anyway. Almost every Saturday night in September and October, like clockwork, she sat out on her porch, or in front of her fireplace, and talked to him about their lives. The easy way of their conversations had come rushing back.
“You have to be patient,” Luke said. He’d been saying the same thing to her for weeks. “It’s still October. She’ll call. I know she will.”
“The waiting is killing me,” she said. “I’m actually losing weight for the first time since sixth grade. Maybe I’ll get lucky and finally get pretty while Dallas rots in that cell.”
“You were always pretty, Win.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Yeah, right,” she muttered. “That’s why you fell in love with my sister when I was standing right there. Look, Luke, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, I’m officially worried about you now.”
“That means a lot to me. Truly,” she said, and then: “I’ve got to go. Call me tomorrow night.” Before he could answer, she hung up the phone and headed for the door. “Keep your pants on. I’m coming.” She opened the door and found her sisters standing there. Aurora was dressed as if for a walk across the frozen tundra—jeans, winter boots, a big fake-fur-lined parka. In her gloved hands was a big silver thermos. Beside her, Vivi Ann stood holding coffee cups.
“You’re coming with us. Dress warmly,” Aurora said.
“No, thanks,” Winona said. In truth, she was too anxious lately to behave normally around her sisters.
“She’s confused,” Aurora said, shooting an I-told-you-so look at Vivi Ann. “That’s often the case, lately. I said, you’re coming with us. Get dressed.”
“What’s in the thermos?”
“Irish coffee. Now hurry.”
“Fine. But I’m taking my phone,” Winona said. She hadn’t been away from her phone for more than ten minutes since her meeting with Sara Hamm.
“Who are you? Condoleezza Rice?” Aurora muttered.