Free The Confession by John Grisham Page A

that Nikki could have survived and was alive and hiding from her. Nonetheless, she kept driving to Shreveport and watching the faces. She couldn’t quit. She had to do something.
    Several times, Reeva dashed off to other states where teenage girls went missing. She was the expert with wisdom to share. “You can survive this” was her motto, her effort to soothe and comfort the families, though many back home wondered how well she was surviving.
    Now, as the final countdown was under way, she was in a frenzy with the details of the execution. The reporters were back, and she had plenty to say. After nine long and bitter years, justice was finally at hand.
    Early Monday evening, Paul Koffee and Drew Kerber decided it was time to go see Reeva.
    ———
    She met them at the front door with a smile, even quick hugs. They never knew which Reeva they would find. She could be charming, and she could be frightening. But with Donté’s death so close, she was gracious and vibrant. They walked through the comfortable suburban split-level to a large room behind the garage, an add-on that had become Reeva’s war room over the years. Half was an office with filing cabinets, the other half a shrine to her daughter. There were large framed color blowups, portraits done posthumously by admirers, trophies, ribbons, plaques, and an award from the eighth-grade science fair. Most of Nikki’s life could be traced through the displays.
    Wallis, her second husband and Nicole’s stepfather, was not at home. He had been seen less and less over the years, and it was rumored that he simply couldn’t take much more of his wife’s constant mourning and griping. She served them iced tea as they sat around a coffee table. After a few pleasantries, the conversation moved to the execution.
    “You have five slots in the witness room,” Koffee said. “Who gets them?”
    “Wallis and I, of course. Chad and Marie are undecided, but will probably be there.” She threw out the names of Nicole’s half brother and half sister as if they couldn’t decide to go to the game or not. “The last place will probably be Brother Ronnie. He doesn’t want to watch an execution, but he feels the need to be there for us.”
    Brother Ronnie was the current pastor of the First Baptist Church. He’d been in Slone for about three years, had obviously never met Nicole, but was convinced of Drumm’s guilt and afraid to cross Reeva.
    They talked for a few minutes about the protocol on death row, the rules regarding witnesses, the timeline, and so on.
    “Reeva, could we talk about tomorrow?” Koffee asked.
    “Of course we can.”
    “Are you still doing the Fordyce thing?”
    “Yes. He’s in town now and we’ll film at ten in the morning, right here. Why do you ask?”
    “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea,” Koffee said, and Kerber nodded his agreement.
    “Oh, really. And why not?”
    “He’s such an inflammatory character, Reeva. We are very concerned about the aftershocks Thursday night. You know how upset the blacks are.”
    “We are expecting trouble, Reeva,” Kerber added.
    “If the blacks start trouble, then arrest them,” she said.
    “It’s exactly the kind of situation Fordyce loves to pounce on. He’s an agitator, Reeva. He wants to start trouble so he can get in the middle of it. Helps his ratings.”
    “It’s all about ratings,” Kerber added.
    “Well, well. Aren’t we nervous,” she chided.
    Sean Fordyce was a New York–based talk-show host who’d found a niche on cable sensationalizing murder cases. His slant was unapologetically from the right side of the street, always in support of the latest execution, or gun rights, or the rounding up of illegal immigrants, a group he loved to attack because they were much easier targets than others with dark skin. It was hardly original programming, but Fordyce struckgold when he began filming the families of victims as they prepared to watch the executions. He became famous when his