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“Laurie, could you scan it and email it to me now?” I give her my email address, then run out of the room and fly down the back stairs to the hotel’s business center—a small carrel with a Dell desktop and an inkjet printer. I hold my phone between my cheek and shoulder as I log into the computer with my room number, then open my email account.
I sit there and wait, refreshing my inbox every few seconds until it shows up.
“Did you get it?” Keaton asks.
“Got it! Thank you so much!” I open the document but don’t bother to read it before I send it to the printer.
“How about you?” asks Keaton. “Have you been watching the trial?”
“I’ve got a front-row seat.”
“Well, if you ask me,” she says, “I think Wright might walk.”
Not if I can help it.
CHAPTER
104
Kingston, New Hampshire
It’s two a.m. and Cole Wright is running free.
Unfastening the ankle monitor was unexpectedly easy. All it took was a metal nail file and the right leverage on the clasp. He told the agent on guard that he was going down the hall for ice. From there, it was a quick dash down the back stairwell and out the rear door.
For the first time in months, he’s stretching his legs and feeling his heart pound in a healthy way. The dark street is empty. With every stride, he feels lighter. He can hardly even tell his feet are hitting the pavement. It’s almost like he’s flying. Then he hears an odd jangle, like loose change.
Louder with each step.
He pulls up short on the sidewalk and looks down. He tugs up the right cuff of his sweatpants.
There. Around his ankle.
A tennis bracelet!
A helicopter roars overhead and hovers in front of him. A searchlight hits him with a powerful beam.
Suddenly, Secret Service agents move in all around him. Agents from his detail at the hotel. Agents from his detail in DC. Doug Lambert approaches in a suit and running shoes. Leanne Keil is wearing her tracksuit from North Carolina State.
The chopper dips lower, almost touching the pavement. Cole shields his eyes against the searchlight. Then the pilot leans out of the cockpit. Female. No flight suit. Just jeans and a V-neck. Thick wavy hair.
Cole drops to his knees on the sidewalk.
Suzanne!
He wakes with a start. He reaches down in bed and touches the steel and Kevlar electronic device fastened around his ankle.
Ever since the trial began, Cole can’t get Suzanne out of his mind.
He’ll never speak to her again, but he wishes he could. Just like he wishes he could speak to each and every person on the jury and tell them just one thing.
The truth.
He didn’t kill Suzanne Bonanno. But he thinks he knows who did.
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105