“This thing of yours. This crusade to help victims of wrongful conviction . . . it’s noble. It’s quite a niche, but is it sustainable?”
“Is itwhat?”
“Sustainable.Can you make a career out of it? You see, my career is the news. Politics, which has forever been and will forever be.”
“I guess you’re covered then. But I don’t like politics.”
“I’m not worried about my career.”
Sidney smiled. “Don’t worry about mine, either, Luke. I might be just a feeble woman, but I can manage just fine. And I don’t like being harassed.”
He offered a condescending laugh. “I’m not harassing you.I’m trying to help you. Are there actually that many wrongfully convicted people out there? Are you going to save them all? One after another?”
“Right now, I’m only worried about one of them. And I’m under deadline, Luke, so give me some privacy.”
“Where does it come from? This crusade of yours?”
“It comes from three successful documentaries. I know you’re not going to acknowledge anyone’s success besides your own, but my interest comes from the fact that I’ve done this three other times with great success.”
Luke puckered his lower lip and tilted his head to the side like a dog that heard a high-pitched whistle. “I’d classify the success as moderate more than great, but that’s neither here nor there. And I was only asking to discover your influence. Many people ask me mine.”
Sidney went back to her edits without taking the bait.
“You seem like you’re busy, I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Perfect,” Sidney said.
“If you need any advice, let me know.”
This caused Sidney to smile. “Luke, you’ve never made a documentary series in your life, even though you slapped your name on the one I created for the network last year. Why would I ask you for advice?”
Now Luke smiled. “Not on how to make your documentary, sweetheart. But perhaps you’d like advice on how to find an audience. I’m quite versed at that.”
Sidney rolled her eyes and went back to her computer as the Bear mercifully left her office. Even after he was gone, she could hear his plangent voice reverberating in the hollows of her office.
“Where does it come from? This crusade of yours?”
She went back to her editing, but forgot what she was attempting to accomplish in the current clip.
“Damn it,” she said as she pushed the laptop aside.
She glanced to the edge of her desk, where a lone envelope rested. She had been avoiding it since it arrived two days before. Finally she reached for it and tore it open, pulling out the letter, which was creased sharply in thirds. When she unfolded the page, a small square of tissue paper rested inside, also folded neatly.
Sidney paused at the discovery, examining the pouch before carefully pulling apart the tissue. When she did, several crescent-shaped fingernail clippings fell onto her desk. She dropped the tissue and let out a long, defeated breath.
“For Christ’s sake.”
CHAPTER 13
Friday, March 31, 2017
BALDWIN STATE PRISON WAS LOCATED IN MILLEDGEVILLE, GEORGIA. Some of the worst offenders of Georgia’s most grievous crimes end up at Baldwin, a male-only prison. Over the years, Sidney had made her share of visits. She had gotten to know a few of the guards, who joked about which convict she was going to set loose. It had been six months since her last journey to Georgia, and she wasn’t sure why she chose this weekend to visit Baldwin. She blamed Luke Barrington. The voice that whispered from the dark corners of her mind, telling her thatThe Girl of Sugar Beachwas too difficult a project to pull off, also played a part. And like a ten-year-old running from the playground, Sidney ignored the thought that she was seeking condolence on this trip to Baldwin. It was too pitiful to consider, so she pretended it wasn’t true.
She went through the now-habitual routine of signing forms, showing ID, walking through metal detectors, standing crucifix-like while a guard ran a wand up and down her body, and allowing a polite female guard to pat her down to check for drugs and weapons. After thirty minutes, she wasallowed to sit in a waiting room with a half-dozen other visitors. Leslie Martin, her coproducer, had sent video footage she was hoping to include in the pilot, and Sidney spent her time watching the clips on her phone and making notes. Eventually a staff member slid the glass partition open.
“Sidney Ryan.”
Sidney looked up from her phone and raised her hand.
