Chapter 3 - The Twenty-Four Hour Countdown
The clock in Warden Mitchell’s office ticked with agonizing precision. It was now 9:30 a.m. Gavin Cole was scheduled to be executed at 6:00 a.m. the following morning. Less than twenty-four hours remained.
Mitchell sat across from Chloe, who was quietly sipping a juice box provided by the secretary. The social worker, Ms. Aris, looked nervous, her hands fluttering over her briefcase.
"Chloe," Mitchell began, his voice softening into a tone he usually reserved for his own grandchildren. "What you said in there... about the man with the missing finger. Can you tell me who that is?"
"He’s the man who comes to see Uncle Richard," Chloe said, wiping her mouth. "He has a big black car. The night Mr. Arthur died, I was playing hide-and-seek. I hid under the kitchen sink because I heard shouting. I saw the man with the missing finger throw a knife onto our porch. Then he took Daddy's jacket from the mudroom and wiped it on the floor where the blood was."
Mitchell felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck. During the trial five years ago, the prosecution’s anchor piece of evidence was Gavin’s jacket, soaked in Arthur Vance’s blood, found in the trunk of Gavin’s car. Gavin had claimed he had no idea how it got there, but the jury hadn’t believed him. The prosecution was led by Richard Vance, who had wept openly in court, demanding justice for his slain brother.
"Why didn't you say this before, sweetheart?" Mitchell asked gently.
"Because Judge Sterling told me that if I ever told anyone, my daddy would die faster," Chloe said simply. "He came to our house with Uncle Richard the day after Daddy was arrested. He gave me a doll and whispered it in my ear. But yesterday, I found the key hidden in the lining of Mr. Arthur’s old briefcase that Uncle Richard left at our house. I knew it was the key to the truth."
Mitchell stood up so fast his chair scraped violently against the floor. He walked to his window, looking out over the bleak prison yard. This wasn't just a botched investigation; this was a high-level conspiracy involving the District Attorney and the presiding trial judge, Judge Marcus Sterling.
If Mitchell went through standard channels to report this, the information would likely be intercepted and destroyed before sundown. He needed someone outside the system, someone with nothing to lose and everything to prove. He picked up his secure landline and dialed a number he hadn't called in a decade.
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"Evelyn," Mitchell said when the line connected. "It's Robert. I have a death row inmate expiring in twenty hours. He’s innocent, and the people who framed him are running the courthouse. I need you in Huntsville in one hour, or a good man's blood is on our hands."
Evelyn Vance—coincidentally sharing the last name because she was Arthur and Richard’s estranged sister, a brilliant defense attorney who had been exiled from the family for questioning her brothers' business practices—didn't hesitate. "I'm already in my car," she replied.
