This Is My America(57)

“What took so long?” I ask.

“Interviewee was an hour late. Some emergency.”

“Coincidence a breakin occurred in the daytime?” I ask.

“Not sure I believe in those anymore,” Steve says. “It’s time we take precautions.”

“I agree,” Dean says.

I think about how quickly Dean pulled out the shotgun. I don’t like the way this is going.

“All right, what happened?” Steve asks.

We walk Steve through everything. From the moment the guy got out of his SUV, all the way through how the cops seemed more interested in searching Steve’s office than looking for a burglar. When we’re done, we point out all the boxes the cops focused on. Steve checks each one.

“Did they take anything?”

“I didn’t see,” I say. “They were more poking around.”

“Yeah. I didn’t see them take anything, either,” Dean says.

Steve looks over at the security alarm that apparently only makes noise and doesn’t actually stop intruders.

“I’ve got an order in for a new system,” Dean says. “This time I’ll install it myself.”

“Thanks,” Steve says. “How long before you say he was out of sight?”



“He went down the alley right before we called you,” I say. “Two minutes or so before Dean had a shotgun and was down there.”

“Three minutes, tops,” Dean adds.

“It’s possible he could break in that fast and grab something, but highly unlikely,” Steve says. “I have a hard time getting in the door, let alone orienting myself around the files.”

“What do you think he was after?”

Steve scans the boxes and the case files and then the lists on the board of all the case names he’s considering taking on. “I’ll have to look through everything to know for sure what might be missing. Innocence X has a reputation for revealing botched cases, dirty cops, politicians, and bad cover-ups.”

“I gave the plate number to the officer. Who do you think he is?” I ask.

“I was hoping we’d have a couple of weeks before things got complicated.” Steve rubs his head, then pulls at his chin. “The cops don’t need to run the plates. I was able to get the name of the organization that owns the car, but they wouldn’t provide the driver’s name. Said I’d need a subpoena. The cops should be able to get that. The organization is called Liberty Heritage for a New America. They’re a special-interest think tank funded by ultraconservatives. This one has ties to white supremacists who use conservatism to cover their agenda. We’ve run into them before, but I thought they were stopping harassment and stepping up their fight through lobbying state representatives. This is aggressive, which means we must be on to something they don’t want me looking into.”



A shiver runs down my spine. This is the last thing we need.

“What’s the status of my daddy’s case?” I ask.

“The case is officially pending review for direct appeal,” Steve says. “They could review it thoroughly or treat it like the others. The hope is I can get more evidence for a new trial.”

“My dad has less than two hundred fifty-two days left until his execution date.”

“We can’t spend time thinking about the obstacles. You’ll lose your mind trying to make sense of it. We file. We research. We push. We make noise. We put pressure—”

“We pray,” Mama says at the door.

“Yes, we pray,” Steve says. “Come in, Mrs. Beaumont.”

Mama leads us in prayer. “Father God, let your holy power fill us with strength and protection.” She continues, but I lose focus, things rushing through my mind on what we should do next. Whatever it is, we must be on the right track or we wouldn’t be getting blocked like this.

I open my eyes when Mama says, “Amen.”





IF IT WALKS LIKE


A DUCK…

Before I head off to school on Monday, I stand close to Mama. She folds the newspaper, a late attempt to keep the headlines away. I’ve already seen them. Jamal on the cover, and Daddy on page 7. Galveston Times with a personal countdown: Fourteen days Jamal’s been on the run; 251 days until Daddy’s execution date. My chest aches.

Her worry lines compound with each day Jamal’s been gone. I take a seat at the kitchen table.

“I was thinking—”

“That statement never ends well.” Mama winks.

“We don’t really know Steve. Like he’s doing all this stuff for Daddy…and Mr. Evans gave him a great deal on the office space.”

“Save it. Where’s this going?”



“We should have them all over for dinner tonight.”

Over a meal, guards can come down. Steve can get insight into things Mama hasn’t told us yet, and Mrs. Evans might warm up more to the idea of Steve staying at the loft after the break-in. I also want to thank Steve; his words last night meant the world. And I don’t want him regretting taking our case.

“I’m sure this has nothing to do with Mr. Evans calling last night to say Mrs. Evans wants Steve to move out.”

Mama has no chill to hear me out. Having Steve move out would be a setback. He’s making progress—the break-in proved that.