He patted her firmly on the knee. "You're doing the right thing." She wore oversized chinos, hiking boots, a faded red denim shirt. Very much the grad student in psychology.
"There it is." He suddenly pointed ahead. On both sides of the highway, cars had parked bumper to bumper. Traffic was slow as people walked toward the prison.
"What's all this?" she asked.
"This is a circus."
They passed three Klansmen walking on the edge of the pavement. Carmen stared at them, then shook her head in disbelief. They inched forward, going slightly faster than the people hurrying to the demonstrations. In the middle of the highway in front of the entrance, two state troopers directed traffic. They motioned for Adam to turn right, which he did. A Parchman guard pointed to an area along a shallow road ditch.
They held hands and walked to the front gate, pausing for a moment to stare at the dozens of robed Klansmen milling about in front of the prison. A fiery speech was being delivered into a megaphone that malfunctioned every few seconds. A group of brownshirts stood shoulder to shoulder, holding signs and facing the traffic. No less than five television vans were parked on the other side of the highway. Cameras were everywhere. A news helicopter circled above.
At the front gate, Adam introduced Carmen to his new pal Louise, the guard who took care of the paperwork. She was nervous and frazzled. There'd been an altercation or two between the Kluckers and the press and the guards. Things were dicey at the moment, and not likely to improve, in her opinion.
A uniformed guard escorted them to a prison van, and they hurriedly left the front entrance.
"Unbelievable," Carmen said.
"It gets worse each day. Wait till tomorrow."
The van slowed as they eased along the main drive, under the large shade trees and in front of the neat, white houses. Carmen watched everything.
"This doesn't look like a prison," she said.
"It's a farm. Seventeen thousand acres. Prison employees live in those houses."
"With children," she said, looking at bicycles and scooters lying in the front yards. "It's so peaceful. Where are the prisoners?"
"Just wait."
The van turned to the left. The pavement stopped and the dirt road began. Just ahead was the Row.
"See the towers there?" Adam pointed. "The fences and the razor wire?" She nodded.
"That's the Maximum Security Unit. Sam's home for the past nine and a half years."
"Where's the gas chamber?"
"In there."
Two guards looked inside the van, then waved it through the double gates. It stopped near the front door where Packer was waiting. Adam introduced him to Carmen, who by now was barely able to speak. They stepped inside, where Packer frisked them gently. Three other guards watched. "Sam's already in there," Packer said nodding to the front office. "Go on in."
Adam took her hand and clenched it tightly. She nodded and they walked to the door. He opened it.
Sam was sitting on the edge of the desk, as usual. His feet were swinging under him and he was not smoking. The air in the room was clear and cool. He glanced at Adam, then looked at Carmen. Packer closed the door behind them.
She released Adam's hand and walked to the desk, looking Sam squarely in the eyes. "I'm Carmen," she said softly. Sam eased from the desk. "I'm Sam, Carmen. Your wayward grandfather." He drew her to him and they embraced.
It took a second or two for Adam to realize Sam had shaved his beard. His hair was shorter and looked much neater. His jumpsuit was zipped to the neck.
Sam squeezed her shoulders and examined her face. "You're as pretty as your mother," he said hoarsely. His eyes were moist and Carmen was fighting back tears.
She bit her lip and tried to smile.
"Thanks for coming," he said, trying to grin. "I'm sorry you had to find me like this."
"You look great," she said.
"Don't start lying, Carmen," Adam said, breaking the ice. "And let's stop the crying before it gets outta hand."
"Sit down," Sam said to her, pointing to a chair. He sat next to her, holding her hand.
"Business first, Sam," Adam said as he leaned on the desk. "Fifth Circuit turned us down early this morning. So we're off to greener pastures."
"Your brother here is quite a lawyer," Sam said to Carmen. "He gives me this same news every day."
"Of course, I don't have much to work with," Adam said.
"How's your mother?" Sam asked her.
"She's fine."
"Tell her I asked about her. I remember her as a fine person."
"I will."
"Any word on Lee?" Sam asked him.
"No. Do you want to see her?"
"I think so. But if she can't make it, I'll understand."
"I'll see what I can do," Adam said confidently. His last two phone calls to Phelps had not been returned. Frankly, he didn't have time at the moment to look for Lee.
Sam leaned closer to her. "Adam tells me you're studying psychology."
"That's right. I'm in grad school at Cal Berkeley. I'll - "
A sharp knock on the door interrupted the conversation. Adam opened it slightly, and saw the anxious face of Lucas Mann. "Excuse me for a minute," he said to Sam and Carmen, and stepped into the hall.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Garner Goodman's looking for you," Mann said, almost in a whisper. "He wants you in Jackson immediately."
"Why? What's going on?"
"Looks like one of your claims has found its mark"
Adam's heart stopped. "Which one?"
"Judge Slattery wants to talk about the mental incompetence. He's scheduled a hearing for five this afternoon. Don't say anything to me, because I might be a witness for the state."
Adam closed his eyes and gently tapped his head against the wall. A thousand thoughts swirled wildly through his brain. "Five this afternoon. Slattery?"
"Hard to believe. Look, you need to move fast."
"I need a phone."
"There's one in there," Mann said, nodding to the door behind Adam. "Look, Adam, it's none of my business, but I wouldn't tell Sam. This is still a long shot, and there's no sense getting his hopes up. If it was my decision, I'd wait until the hearing is over."
"You're right. Thanks, Lucas."
"Sure. I'll see you in Jackson."
Adam returned to the room, where the cussion had drifted to life in the Bay Area. "It's nothing," Adam said with a frown and went casually to the phone. He ignored their quiet talk as he punched the numbers.
"Garner, it's Adam. I'm here with Sam. What's up?"
"Get your ass down here, old boy," Goodman said calmly. "Things are moving."
"I'm listening." Sam was describing his first and only trip to San Francisco, decades ago.
"First, the governor wants to talk privately with you. He seems to be suffering. We're wearing his ass out with the phones, and he's feeling the heat. More importantly, Slattery, of all people, is hung up on the mental claim. I talked with him thirty minutes ago, and he's just thoroughly confused. I didn't help matters. He wants a hearing at five this afternoon. I've already talked to Dr. Swinn, and he's on standby. He'll land in Jackson at three-thirty and be ready to testify."
"I'm on my way," Adam said with his back to Sam and Carmen.
"Meet me at the governor's office."