“I’ve always liked you, Cody, and I never felt like you deserved to be here.”
“Well, thank you, Marvin, that’s nice to hear now that we’re down to the wire.”
Vehicles approach on the road that leads to the central prison. It’s a caravan of sorts, with a police car in full blue-light mode leading three identical white vans. Another police car follows. They turn in to the parking lot near the front of death row and stop. In the distance, and too far away to hear what’s being said, the vans empty and the guards escort the people inside.
Cody and Marvin watch this, and when the people are out of view, Cody says, “Well, I guess the witnesses have arrived. The hour is drawing near.”
“You got that right.”
“Have you seen the witness list, Marvin?”
“I have.”
“So, who’s on it?”
“I can’t say.”
“Come on, Marvin. I think I’m entitled to know who’ll watch me die. For Pete’s sake.”
“Some of the family. The Bakers had three children.”
“Murray, Adam, and Estelle. Thank God they were not at home that night. I remember them from my trial. I even wrote letters to them but they never wrote back. Can’t really blame them.”
“Well, they’re here, along with a couple of the prosecutors, some cops, I think. I don’t know everybody on the list.”
“And no one on my side of the room.”
“That’s what you want, right?”
“I guess. You want to watch me die, Marvin?”
“The answer is still no.”
“Didn’t think so. Just wondering, Marvin, how will they feel when it’s over? Will they be relieved? Sad, maybe? Downright happy that I’m gone? I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Don’t know. They surely want to see you die, else they wouldn’t be here.”
“Well, I’ll give ’em their money’s worth, me and the warden.” Cody paces a few steps and keeps looking toward the Gas House. “You know, Marvin, I do feel sorry for them. They lost their parents and they were good people and all that, but I swear I didn’t kill anybody.”
“I know.”
“I even told Brian to put the gun away.”
“One time, years ago, I was talking to your lawyer, Jack. I like that guy. He told me about your case, said you didn’t kill those people, said it was your brother who did all the shooting.”
“True, but I was there, as an accomplice, and under the laws of this great state I’m just as guilty as my brother.”
“Still don’t seem right.”
“It was my fault, Marvin. All my fault.”
（9）
The house was in a development of sorts, two-acre lots out in the country, on a paved road, with county water and sewer, neighbors too far away to meddle but close enough to help, 3,000 square feet heated with plenty of room for a pool, gardens, dogs. The neighborhood was a perfect target for unsophisticated smash-and-run thieves who could slither in from the woods and strike night or day. So far, it was virgin territory for the little Wallace gang. There were fourteen houses on the road, all built within the past twenty years, modern enough to have security systems and alarms. Along most of the driveways there were little tin signs advertising alert, the most popular security company in the area.
Brian and Cody watched the road for weeks. It was summer, time for vacations, always a busy period for thieves. At sunset, they raced through the neighborhood on their bikes to see which houses were dark. During the late afternoons, they climbed trees and used binoculars to check on the houses; which campers were gone, which driveways were collecting newspapers, where were the kids and dogs missing, where were the curtains pulled tight? It was easy to spot an empty house.
After a few days it became obvious that the Bakers were away. They lived on the north side of the road, Cody’s responsibility. Brian was monitoring the houses on the south side.
They waited until after two in the morning, the best time to go in. With alert sensors on all windows and doors, the call to central monitoring would take place at about one minute, then the sirens or buzzers or whatever the Bakers had chosen would erupt inside the house. One never knew if the system included exterior alarms that would wake the neighbors. If things went as expected, at least twenty minutes would pass before any blue lights appeared.
Two minutes was more than enough time. Each carried a small flashlight because they worked in the dark. Again, those bothersome neighbors might include insomniacs. With a glass-cutting tool, Brian quickly removed a pane in the patio door, reached inside, unlocked the dead bolt, and eased the door open. He had done it so many times he could actually open a locked door as fast as anyone with a key.