A shudder ran through him. His hands began to tremble.

“Evelyn and our baby girl died.” Tears were running down his cheeks. “I don’t know why God did that. He must have had a reason, but I don’t know why.” He was rocking back and forth in his chair, unaware of what he was doing, his arms clasped in front of his chest, holding in his grief. “I will instruct you and teach you the way you should go; I will counsel you.”

Jennifer thought, This one the electric chair is not going to get!

“I’ll be back to see you tomorrow,” Jennifer promised him.

Bail had been set at two hundred thousand dollars. Jack Scanlon did not have the bond money and Jennifer had it put up for him. Scanlon was released from the Correctional Center and Jennifer found a small motel on the West Side for him to move into. She gave him a hundred dollars to tide him over.

“I don’t know how,” Jack Scanlon said, “but I’ll pay you back every cent. I’ll start looking for a job. I don’t care what it is. I’ll do anything.”

When Jennifer left him, he was searching through the want ads.

The federal prosecutor, Earl Osborne, was a large, heavyset man with a smooth round face and a deceptively bland manner. To Jennifer’s surprise, Robert Di Silva was in Osborne’s office.

“I heard you were taking on this case,” Di Silva said. “Nothing’s too dirty for you to handle, is it?”

Jennifer turned to Earl Osborne. “What’s he doing here? This is a federal case.”

Osborne replied, “Jack Scanlon took the girl away in her family’s car.”

“Auto theft, grand larceny,” Di Silva said.

Jennifer wondered if Di Silva would have been there if she were not involved. She turned back to Earl Osborne.

“I’d like to make a deal,” Jennifer said. “My client—”

Earl Osborne held up a hand. “Not a chance. We’re going all the way on this one.”

“There are circumstances—”

“You can tell us all about it at the preliminary.”

Di Silva was grinning at her.

“All right,” Jennifer said. “I’ll see you in court.”

Jack Scanlon found a job working at a service station on the West Side near his motel, and Jennifer stopped by to see him.

“The preliminary hearing is the day after tomorrow,” Jennifer informed him. “I’m going to try to get the government to agree to a plea bargain and plead you guilty to a lesser charge. You’ll have to serve some time, Jack, but I’ll try to see that it’s as short as possible.”

The gratitude in his face was reward enough.

At Jennifer’s suggestion, Jack Scanlon had bought a respectable suit to wear at the preliminary hearing. He had had his hair cut and his beard trimmed, and Jennifer was pleased with his appearance.

They went through the court formalities. District Attorney Di Silva was present. When Earl Osborne had presented his evidence and asked for an indictment, Judge Barnard turned to Jennifer.

“Is there anything you would like to say, Miss Parker?”

“There is, Your Honor. I’d like to save the government the cost of a trial. There are mitigating circumstances here that have not been brought out. I would like to plead my client guilty to a lesser charge.”

“No way,” Earl Osborne said. “The government will not agree to it.”

Jennifer turned to Judge Barnard. “Could we discuss this in Your Honor’s chambers?”

“Very well. I’ll set a date for the trial after I’ve heard what counsel has to say.”

Jennifer turned to Jack Scanlon, who was standing there, bewildered.

“You can go back to work,” Jennifer told him. “I’ll drop by and let you know what happened.”

He nodded and said quietly, “Thank you, Miss Parker.”

Jennifer watched him turn and leave the courtroom.

Jennifer, Earl Osborne, Robert Di Silva and Judge Barnard were seated in the judge’s chambers.

Osborne was saying to Jennifer, “I don’t know how you could even ask me to plea-bargain. Kidnapping for ransom is a capital offense. Your client is guilty and he’s going to pay for what he did.”

“Don’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, Earl. Jack Scanlon had nothing to do with that ransom note.”

“Who you trying to kid? If it wasn’t for ransom, what the hell was it for?”

“I’ll tell you,” Jennifer said.

And she told them. She told them about the farm and the beatings and about Jack Scanlon falling in love with Evelyn and marrying her, and losing his wife and daughter in childbirth.

They listened in silence, and when Jennifer was finished, Robert Di Silva said, “So Jack Scanlon kidnapped the girl because it reminded him of the kid he would have had? And Jack Scanlon’s wife died in childbirth?”

“That’s right.” Jennifer turned to Judge Barnard. “Your Honor, I don’t think that’s the kind of man you execute.”

Di Silva said unexpectedly, “I agree with you.”

Jennifer looked at him in surprise.

Di Silva was pulling some papers out of a briefcase. “Let me ask you something,” he said. “How would you feel about executing this kind of man?” He began to read from a dossier. “Frank Jackson, age thirty-eight. Born in Nob Hill, San Francisco. Father was a doctor, mother a prominent socialite. At fourteen, Jackson got into drugs, ran away from home, picked up in Haight-Ashbury and returned to his parents. Three months later Jackson broke into his father’s dispensary, stole all the drugs he could get his hands on and ran away. Picked up in Seattle for possession and selling, sent to a reformatory, released when he was eighteen, picked up one month later on a charge of armed robbery with intent to kill…”

Jennifer could feel her stomach tightening. “What does this have to do with Jack Scanlon?”

Earl Osborne gave her a frosty smile. “Jack Scanlon is Frank Jackson.”

“I don’t believe it!”

Di Silva said, “This yellow sheet came in from the FBI an hour ago. Jackson’s a con artist and a psychopathic liar. Over the last ten years he’s been arrested on charges ranging from pimping to arson to armed robbery. He did a stretch in Joliet. He’s never held a steady job and he’s never been married. Five years ago he was picked up by the FBI on a kidnapping charge. He kidnapped a three-year-old girl and sent a ransom note. The body of the little girl was found in a wooded area two months later. According to the coroner’s report, the body was partially decomposed, but there were visible signs of small knife cuts all over her body. She had been raped and sodomized.”

Jennifer felt suddenly ill.

“Jackson was acquitted on a technicality that some hotshot lawyer cooked up.” When Di Silva spoke again his voice was filled with contempt. “That the man you want walking around the streets?”

“May I see that dossier, please?”

Silently, Di Silva handed it to Jennifer and she began reading it. It was Jack Scanlon. There was no question about it. There was a police mug shot of him stapled to the yellow sheet. He had looked younger then and he had no beard, but there was no mistaking him. Jack Scanlon—Frank Jackson—had lied to her about everything. He had made up his life story and Jennifer had believed every word. He had been so convincing that she had not even taken the trouble to have Ken Bailey check him out.

Judge Barnard said, “May I see that?”

Jennifer handed the dossier to him. The judge glanced through it and then looked at Jennifer. “Well?”

“I won’t represent him.”

Di Silva raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You shock me, Miss Parker. You’re always saying that everyone is entitled to a lawyer.”

“Everyone is,” Jennifer replied evenly, “but I have a hard and fast rule: I won’t represent anyone who lies to me. Mr. Jackson will have to get himself another lawyer.”