Part 12 (1/2)

”To your house?”

Ben raised his black eyebrows apologetically. ”I'm sorry. I have to go. It won't take long.

Tess hesitated, knowing she wanted to agree to it.

”Come on,” he said.

The road to Ben Ramsey's house wound through the woods and around Lake Innisquam. Tess caught an intermittent glimpse of the sun gleaming on the waters of the lake. In the car, they hardly spoke at all. His house, when it appeared, turned out to be a good-size fis.h.i.+ng cottage built in view of the lake. ”This is it,” he said.

He got out and walked up to a screened porch that wrapped all the way around the house. He opened the door and called out to her. ”Come on in.”

Tess stopped to take in the view. The mild, clear day and the dark water of the lake, its surface silvery from the sun, made her want to kick her boots off and wade in. Instead, she followed Ben up the walk to his house. She opened the screen door and heard him inside, murmuring endearments while a dog yipped delightedly. The house had four long windows and a door that opened out onto the screened-in porch. She could see him in the living room, sitting on a hooked wool rug in his good suit, while the pup, newly released from its crate, leaped happily at him, licking his face. Tess walked into the house.

”Yes, yes,” he was saying. ”I'm glad to see you, too. And we have a guest. Scout, meet Miss Tess DeGraff.”

Tess reached down and stroked the puppy's silken fur. ”h.e.l.lo there, Scout,” she said. ”Call me Tess.”

”All right. I've got to take you out,” said Ben, rising to his feet. He lifted a leash from a hook beside the fireplace and bent down to put it on the dog's collar. Then he handed it to Tess. ”Here, hold this a minute.”

Tess took the leash but was about to protest when she saw that he was rummaging through the papers on a desk in the corner. ”Here it is,” he said. He brought the thick bound sheaf of paper with a plastic cover over to Tess and handed it to her. ”I'll trade you,” he said, gesturing to the leash. Tess handed the pup's lead to him.

”Sit down and have a look through it, if you like,” Ramsey said, indicating the sofa. ”We'll be right back.”

”Can't I take it with me?” Tess asked.

”You can,” he said. ”I just thought you might be impatient to have a look.”

”It's true. I am,” said Tess. She sat down on the sofa and opened the doc.u.ment, wondering if she'd find any clues that the best legal minds might have missed. She heard Scout yipping cheerfully and rustling in the leaves outside as she read over parts of the sentencing phase of the trial. After a few minutes, she looked up from the transcript, ruminating about what she had read, and her gaze scanned the comfortable living room. She noted that the well-maintained house had a rustic look, but it was a city person's idea of rustic. It was tastefully decorated-everything was coordinated in shades of forest green and wine, plaids and muted prints perfectly matched. She recognized furniture, cus.h.i.+ons, lamps, and even the rug from catalogues that she received herself at home in Was.h.i.+ngton. It was as if everything in the house had arrived, at great expense, by UPS.

Tess remembered Jake's saying that Ben was a widower and that this had been his and his wife's vacation home. There were definite signs that a man now inhabited the place alone. For one thing, she thought, a woman probably would have set that dog cage somewhere other than the living room rug. On the oak dining table in front of the long windows was an empty mug, still stained with coffee, a crumb-covered plate, piles of mail, and a heap of newspapers with the Stone Hill Record on top. The fireplace was filled with cinders, as if no one ever thought to clean it. A canvas jacket hung over the back of one of the dining room chairs. On the mantel, beneath a framed map of New Hamps.h.i.+re, was propped a small oil painting of a woman with her face partially turned away from the artist. Tess peered at it curiously.

”Brrr...the weather's changing,” Ben said, coming back into the house with the puppy. ”You finding what you wanted?”

The transcript was open on her lap, but Tess's attention was distracted. ”I was just looking at that painting,” she said truthfully. ”It's really nice.” It looked as if it had been painted in a forest and the shadows on the woman's averted face had a tinge of green in the gray.

”Oh, thank you,” he said. ”I painted that.”

Tess saw no reason to pretend not to know he was a widower. ”Is it a painting of your wife?” she asked.

Ben looked away from the painting. ”Yeah,” he said brusquely.

Tess reddened. ”I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend...”

”It's all right,” he said. ”Sometimes I forget it's there.”

Tess nodded. ”I understand that,” she said. ”I've had a lot of that lately.”

He frowned at her. ”A lot of what?”

”Well, you think you've adjusted to a loss and then something reminds you. It jumps up and grabs you by the throat when you least expect it.”

Ben's gaze returned to the painting. He shook his head. ”I'm over it,” he said.

Liar, she thought. But instead she said, ”It's a beautiful painting. You have some talent.”

Ben shrugged dismissively. ”It won't pay the rent.” Ben gave his dog a treat and then pulled out a chair from the dining table and sat down, facing Tess. ”So are you going to tell me what you're looking for in there?” he asked, nodding toward the transcript.

Tess hesitated. He had asked for nothing in return for showing her the transcript. A little part of her wanted to see what he thought of her theory. Clearly he was intelligent. His opinion would be interesting. She decided to share her thoughts and hoped it wasn't a mistake. ”I've been wondering if Lazarus might have had an accomplice,” said Tess.

Ben frowned. ”You think Lazarus Abbott had an accomplice?” he asked.

For a moment she thought of the photo of Ken Phalen and she hesitated. No, she thought. She had to stop second-guessing herself. ”Lazarus was the man I saw that night, no matter what you-or anybody-might think.”

”You could be right,” said Ben. He turned his head and looked out through the screen porch windows to the lake. Dark clouds were beginning to blow up and the temperature was falling. A sudden breeze whipped dry leaves against the mesh of the screens.

”What?” Tess finally asked as he sat silently.

”Nothing. It's an interesting idea,” he said. ”It's possible. And, if you're right, there might be some clue in those proceedings as to who it might be.”

”Well, I know it's not what you want to hear after the great DNA revelation,” she said. ”You don't want to think that he might have been involved after all.”

Ben Ramsey sighed and leaned over, absently stroking the pup's head as it nestled at his feet. Tess was shocked to feel a moment of envy for the puppy as she wondered how it would feel to have those fingers touch her skin with that languid stroke. She forced herself to look away, to concentrate on his words.

”No. You're wrong. I don't have anything invested in the innocence of Lazarus Abbott. He seemed to have been a man with a troubled life and very few redeeming qualities. He may well have acted with an accomplice.”

”But...”

Ben hesitated and seemed to struggle in choosing his words. ”Is it possible that you've hated Lazarus Abbott for so long that this might be a way to keep him somehow...tied to the crime?”

Tess froze, and stared at him without replying.

Ben took a deep breath. ”Look, don't take this the wrong way, Tess. But even if he did have an accomplice, that doesn't change the fact that Lazarus Abbott's execution was a mistake that can never be rectified. He was executed for a crime he didn't commit,” Ben said calmly. ”Even if he had ten accomplices, that wouldn't justify his execution.”

Tess struggled to control her temper. She should never have confided in him. She replied to him in a clipped tone of voice. ”I get that. Believe it or not, I do get it.”

Ben nodded. ”I'm sure you do.”

Tess gazed at him. ”The death penalty. That's what this is all about for you. Your opposition to the death penalty.”

Ben looked at her grimly. ”Obviously, it's something I feel strongly about. I mean, I don't blame crime victims for wanting vengeance. But to give the state the authority to take vengeance is completely irrational. Particularly because it is meted out arbitrarily. If you're rich, you escape it. If you're poor, maybe not.”

”Don't forget the fact that it's not proven to be a deterrent,” said Tess coldly. ”You left that out.”

Ben looked a little sheepish. ”You've heard all this before.”

Tess shook her head. ”You have no idea,” she said. ”None.”