Unintended Consequences (29 page)

He couldn’t believe it. Sunny Bergman lived in Manhattan. Not only Manhattan but just a few blocks from the HIPP office. Quickly, he took out his phone and called Melanie. “I found her,” he said as soon as she answered the phone.

“Who?”

“Angelina. Or at least Sunshine Harrington.”

“How? Where?”

“I’ll explain the how later, but she’s in Manhattan on East 16th Street. You’ve got to get over to her apartment right away.”

“Oh my god! This means—”

“That’s right. This means we might be able to save him.”

C
HAPTER

34

E
ric was right. They’d needed a vacation, an escape from the city. Although it was only May, the heat had started to build, trapped by the tall buildings that surrounded the small island of Manhattan. It was the last weekend before the Hamptons officially opened to the hordes that descended on them from Memorial Day to Labor Day, and the beaches were blissfully empty. Sunny had been unsure when Eric told her of his friend Ken’s offer of his East Hampton home for the weekend. Her mother’s death remained ever present, a heaviness she carried with her every day. Eric had insisted, though, and she was happy he had. They drove out of the city Thursday afternoon and wouldn’t go back until Monday. The air smelled fresher here at the end of Long Island, and the weight of her mother’s death seemed lighter in the salty air. Even Eric seemed relaxed, more so than he’d been in weeks.

The ocean, which seemed to go on forever, was a new experience for Sunny. The house they were using, a three-bedroom home styled after a beach bungalow but filled with expensive furniture and knickknacks, was just steps away from it. The morning sun and the crash of the waves awakened Sunny early. Each morning while the others slept, she’d gone for a long walk along the water’s edge, picking up shells for Rachel along the way. Rachel loved playing in the sand, loved burying herself in it. She’d laugh when she tumbled over the sand castles she’d built. A digital camera hung around Sunny’s neck at all times, ready to capture photos of Rachel. She’d asked her mother once why there were no pictures of her from before her sixth birthday party. “They were lost during our move to this house,” her mother had answered. Now Sunny’s computer was filled with pictures of Rachel, and the full memory cards were locked away in a safe deposit box.

The weather had been glorious. Cloudless sunshine every day. The ocean water still felt too cold for swimming, but she and Rachel had dipped their toes in the foamy surf.

They’d visited South Hampton and window-shopped in the expensive stores. Eric bought each of them matching T-shirts that read “Fabulous Hamptons.” They had lunch at a restaurant that claimed “World’s Best Hamburgers,” and Sunny thought they must be, they were so delicious. Eric was certain he’d spotted Paul McCartney ducking into a bakery, but Sunny thought it couldn’t have been him. They drove along the ocean roads gawking at the huge mansions. “We’ll live in one of those someday,” Eric said, and Sunny just laughed. Before going back to the house, they stopped for ice cream so creamy that it too must have been the world’s best.

Today, the last day before they had to return to the soot of Manhattan, they were going to the very tip of the island, to Montauk Point.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Sunny said to Eric. “Time for breakfast.”

Eric rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock—8:55. “Why’d you wake me?” he groaned. “I haven’t slept late in a lifetime. And I was having the nicest dream.”

“What about?”

Eric pulled Sunny onto the bed and put his arms around her, nuzzling his nose into her neck. “Let’s see. You were in it, of course. It couldn’t be a nice dream without you. We lived in a cozy cottage with a white picket fence around it and our very own swimming pond. And there was the most delicious odor of pancakes, blueberry pancakes, coming from the kitchen.”

Sunny punched him in the arm. “Silly, you smelled my pancakes. They’re waiting for you in the kitchen. Rachel already ate hers.”

After Eric finished breakfast, they headed along Montauk Highway to their destination. The two-lane road offering periodic glimpses of the ocean seemed worlds away from the congestion of Manhattan. For the first time, Sunny could see herself living in another place than Minnesota. She thought it would be lovely if Eric joined a practice in a seaside community. She and Rachel could take walks in the sand every day. They’d start a collection of seashells, all different colors and shapes. Eric could go deep-sea fishing on his days off. What a beautiful way to live.

Thirty minutes later they arrived at the Montauk lighthouse, sitting atop a bluff with the Atlantic Ocean on three sides. In the gift shop, Eric picked up a brochure. “Listen to this,” he said. “This is the oldest lighthouse in New York and the fourth-oldest active lighthouse in the entire United States. What do you think of that?”

“Wha’ ’ighthouse, Daddy?”

“See those boats out in the water? Well, it’s hard for their captains to see at night, so there’s a light at the top of this tower and it flashes every five seconds. That helps the captains see where they’re going and steer their boats.”

“I wanna see ’ight.”

“We’ll walk all the way to the top and you’ll see it.”

They set off up the winding stairs. After just one flight, Rachel held up her arms to be carried. Once they reached the lookout point, the view was breathtaking. “I could stay here forever,” Sunny whispered to Eric. It had been a long time since she’d felt so happy, so carefree.

After a while, they made their way back down and drove to a petting farm. Rachel ran up and down the rows of baby animals. There were goats, sheep, rabbits, calves, turkeys, pigs, and beautifully colored peacocks. Sunny bought a baby bottle filled with milk for Rachel to feed to the goats. Rachel laughed gaily as a goat grabbed on to the nipple and hungrily emptied the contents.

Later, they stopped at a local market and bought food for a picnic. They set up a blanket on the beach and, while they ate their lunch, watched the seagulls swoop to the sand, looking for scraps. On the way back, they stopped to pick up porterhouse steaks for dinner. By the time they returned to the house, they were all spent. As Rachel lay down for her nap, so did her parents.

When Sunny awakened, Eric was no longer by her side. She got out of bed and followed the aroma of charcoal. “Mmm, that smells delicious,” she said as she stepped onto the deck, where Eric was grilling the steaks. “It reminds me of home. Dad used to barbecue almost every night during the warm weather.”

“Funny, it seems it’s always the dad that’s barbecuing.”

“I think there’s a gene somewhere on the Y chromosome that gives men a special talent for it,” she said and laughed.

“You’ve enjoyed this trip, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yes. I love being here. Rachel does too.”

“Maybe Ken will let us use it again after Labor Day. Or we could take a weekend and go down to the Jersey shore over the summer. How about that?”

“Sounds dreamy.” Everything about their stay out East had been dreamy. It had helped push away the nightmare of her mother’s death.

After dinner, they put Rachel to bed and sat on the deck, sipping wine in the cool night air. When she got up to stretch her legs, Eric pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, first softly, then hungrily. He led her into the bedroom and they lay down on the queen-size bed.

They undressed each other and then made love. It had been a long time since they’d last done so. Eric’s hours at the hospital and her tiredness from running after Rachel all day had conspired to keep them apart. Eric’s touch was gentle; he knew the spots to touch on her body to arouse her, and he expertly brought her to a climax.

Afterward, lying in Eric’s arms, Sunny felt her eyelids grow heavy. Before she drifted off to sleep, she realized how happy she was. She loved Eric, she loved Rachel, and she was loved in return. If only she had her mother, her life would be perfect.

C
HAPTER

35

Thirteen Hours

T
en minutes after Tommy’s call, Melanie stood in front of the address she had for Sunshine Harrington Bergman. She rang the buzzer for her apartment but was met with silence. She waited outside for someone to leave the building, and when a man finally opened the locked door to the lobby, Melanie slipped inside. She took the elevator to the eighth floor and walked down the hallway to apartment 8-C. She pressed her thumb against the ringer and held it for two seconds. Still no response.

Melanie didn’t know whether Sunshine hadn’t heard the bell or was away. She didn’t have time to wait for the answer. Instead, she rang the bell at 8-D. For a long time she heard no response. Just as she was about to leave, she heard some shuffling inside and then the turning of several locks. A man standing at least six-four and weighing well over 250 pounds opened the door. “I know this sounds corny, but it really is a matter of life and death. Do you know if your neighbor next door is away from home?”

“You’re fucking waking me up to find some guy?”

Melanie looked at her watch. It was 11:40. “I’m sorry I disturbed you. And it’s not what you think. A man is hours away from execution and she’s the only person who can stop it.”

“Listen, lady. I just got to sleep two hours ago. I don’t care if it’s the fucking Queen of England that’s gonna die.” He slammed the door shut.

Melanie didn’t care if she woke up more people. She continued to knock on doors, beginning with 8-A, and worked her way down the row.

When she reached 8-F, a teenage girl with long brown hair and longer legs below her shorts opened the door. Melanie went into her standard opening, rote by now. “Sorry to bother you, miss, but I’m looking for Sunshine Bergman, who lives in 8-C.”

“Oh, sure. Sunny. I baby-sit Rachel sometimes.”

“You don’t happen to know where she might be, do you?”

“The whole family went away for the weekend. They might be back tonight, I think.”

Melanie stopped in her tracks. Each step of the way in this case, they seemed to come so close only to butt up against an obstacle. She turned back to the girl. “Do you have a cell-phone number for her? Or her husband?”

“Sure. I need it for when I baby-sit. You know, in case something happens.”

“Can you give it to me? It’s urgent that I reach her.”

The girl thought for a moment. “I…I don’t think I should. In fact, I’m not sure I should even be talking to you.”

As she started to close the door, Melanie stuck her foot inside to block it. She took out her HIPP identification and showed it to the girl. “What’s your name?”

“Leanne.”

“Okay, Leanne. There’s a man who’s going to be executed in thirteen hours for a crime he didn’t commit. I don’t know if Sunny Bergman here is the woman I’m looking for, but if she is, she’s the only one who can save his life. I’ve got to speak to her immediately.”

Leanne looked Melanie over. “I don’t know. I keep hearing about all these scams. How do I know you’re not some con artist? Or some kind of freak?”

Melanie’s heart did flip-flops in her chest. “Please, give me her phone number, I’m begging you.”

“I don’t know what to do. My mom would be furious for me to even be talking to you.”

Melanie kept her foot in the doorway. “How about this. Would you call her for me?”

Leanne hesitated. “Okay, I guess I can do that. Wait here while I get my phone.”

Moments later she came back holding a hot-pink cordless phone. She punched in some numbers and Melanie could hear the phone ring. When it was answered, Melanie heard static on the line.

“Sunny, it’s Leanne. There’s a woman here who says it’s urgent that she speak to you. Can I put her on the phone?”

Leanne handed the phone to Melanie. “Ms. Bergman, I’m with the Help Innocent Prisoners Project, and right now there’s a man who’s going to be executed in a few hours who’s innocent. We need your help.”

Through thick static, Melanie thought she heard her say, “Why me?”

“It’s too complicated for the phone. Where are you?”

Melanie could make out the words
Long Island Expressway
,
traffic,
and
accident.

“How long do you think it’ll take you to get back home?”

More static and then, “Three more hours.”

“I’ll be waiting here for you.”

Why did good news and bad news always come together? It seemed miraculous that Tommy had found Sunshine Harrington, but now she had to wait three precious hours for a DNA sample.

She thanked Leanne and headed back to the HIPP office, stopping along the way at the corner delicatessen to pick up a coffee and a Danish. She went into Bruce’s office and sat down.

“Tommy found Sunshine Harrington.”

Bruce’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Did she give him a swab for DNA?”

“Let me rephrase. He found where she lives. I just got back from there. Tommy’s on his way back from Minnesota.”

“Minnesota? When did he go out there?”

“I don’t know the details. He called earlier and gave me her address. I haven’t made contact yet. Sunshine’s on her way back from a vacation. And naturally stuck in traffic on the LIE. She doesn’t expect to be back here for another three hours.” A seventy-one-mile highway between Manhattan and Riverhead, the gateway to the Hamptons, the Long Island Expressway was often referred to as “the Long Island Distressway.” Bumper stickers attesting to the travails of traveling the roadway were rampant. Melanie’s favorite was “I drive the LIE. Please pray for me.”

“Will it be enough for the governor if we produce Sunshine without DNA proof that she’s Angelina?” Bruce asked.

“Dani has an affidavit from Jody, the nurse who put us on to her, and another from Dr. Jeffreys saying their medical histories match. Maybe that’ll be enough.”

“Does Dani know about Sunshine?”

“I don’t know. Tommy called me right away so I could get over to her apartment.”

“Call Dani. She needs to get in touch with the governor’s chief of staff and give him a heads-up on our progress, smooth the way for at least postponing the execution until the testing comes back. I’ll call the lab and make sure they’ll stay late for us.”