Read Online The Last Plea Bargain by Randy Singer - Free Book Online

state had taken everything else away except his right to say whatever he wanted just prior to death. Who was Mace to criticize those words?
    â€œIt’s a good statement, Antoine. Me, I would be too bitter to say something this gracious. You’re a better man than I.”
    â€œSome might disagree,” Antoine said, forcing a smile. Then he turned serious and narrowed his eyes. “Mace, are you going to stop working on this case once they kill me?”
    â€œNo,” Mace said. “I’m going to stop working this case when I clear your name.”
    Antoine studied Mace for a moment as if ascertaining whether he could truly believe that promise. They both knew there would be other men on death row who needed Mace’s help. “You’ve done everything you said you’d do,” Antoine eventually said.
    â€œI appreciate that,” Mace said. “But I’m not giving up on saving you yet.”
    At this, Antoine leaned back in his chair. “Let’s just get it over with.”

11
    Chris and I were both lost in our thoughts as we drove south on Route 400, listening to country music. The trip to Jackson would take ninety minutes if traffic cooperated. But in Atlanta, that was a big if .
    Things slowed down on the 285 loop just past the intersection with I-85. The road was six lanes wide in each direction with concrete barriers on each side. When traffic came to a complete stop, I knew there must have been some kind of accident.
    Chris scanned the radio stations to see if he could pick up any traffic alerts. Since I was driving, I handed him my BlackBerry and asked him to check the traffic updates on the newspaper site.
    Chris was the kind who liked to get places early. I could tell by his body language that he was simmering because I had picked him up fifteen minutes late.
    â€œWe should still be okay,” I said. “We gave ourselves two extra hours.”
    â€œExcept the traffic’s not moving at all,” Chris responded.
    I was tempted to remind him that he hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place, but I decided not to pick a fight. We would need each other today. Chris was the only family I had left.
    â€œThere’s a tractor-trailer accident ten miles south of here,” he said. He was reading the report on my BlackBerry, and the frustration was evident in his voice. “We’d better get off at the next exit and take the connector.”
    I knew everyone else would have the same idea. I also knew it would take forever just to get to the next exit. I jammed the car into park. “I can’t believe this,” I muttered.
    â€œMaybe we’re not supposed to be there,” Chris said.
    It was the wrong comment at the wrong time. “I’m sure that would make you happy,” I snapped.
    Chris scoffed. “I’m not the one who got to the house fifteen minutes late.”
    I could sense a full-scale sibling argument erupting with no clear winner in sight. Normally, I was more strong willed and would wear him down. Chris would go into his shell; I would feel bad and eventually apologize. This time, I decided to short-circuit the whole vicious cycle.
    â€œWe’ve still got plenty of time,” I murmured.
    He accepted my peace offering and didn’t respond.
    Twenty minutes later, after a few emergency vehicles made their way past us in the HOV lane and we still hadn’t moved, I decided to call Bill Masterson.
    â€œHave you heard about the loop?” I asked.
    â€œNo. What about it?”
    â€œWe’re stuck in traffic. We haven’t moved in half an hour. What’s the latest we can check in at the prison?”
    Masterson hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s not like I do this every day.”
    He promised to look into it and call me back. Five minutes later, I was on the phone with him again.
    â€œCan you get the car over to the shoulder of the road?” he