Ransom

“Good,” Sam said, looking pleased. Even the judge had told him he had done a good job. He had just turned seven, and Ted told him it would have been just as hard even for an adult to testify.

“Let's go for ice cream,” Ted suggested. He followed Sam and Fernanda in his car, and proposed Ghirardelli Square for their outing, which was fun for Sam. And even for her. There was a festive feeling to it, as Sam ordered a hot fudge sundae, and Ted got root beer floats for both of the adults.

“I feel like a kid at a birthday party,” Fernanda giggled.

She was enormously relieved that Sam's part in the trial was over. Ted said that it was more than unlikely they'd want him back to testify again. Everything he had said had been brutally damning for the defense. There was no question in Ted's mind that the two men were going to be convicted, and he felt certain that however grandmotherly the judge looked, she was going to give them the death penalty at the sentencing. It was a sobering thought. Ted had told her that Phillip Addison was being tried separately in a federal court, for conspiracy to commit kidnap, and all his federal charges, including tax evasion, money laundering, and drug smuggling. He would be going away for a long time, and it was unlikely that Sam would have to testify again in his case. He was going to suggest to Rick that they use the transcript of Sam's testimony from the state's case, in order to spare the boy further grief. He wasn't sure that was possible, but he was going to do everything he could to get Sam off the hook on that one. And although Rick was leaving the FBI, Ted knew he would put the Addison case in the right hands, and would be testifying himself. Rick wanted Addison put away for good, or if possible put to death. It had been a serious matter, and as Ted did, he wanted to see justice served. Fernanda was relieved. It was good to have the whole ugly business behind them. With the trial no longer hanging over them, the nightmare was finally over.

The last of it happened at the sentencing a month later. It was almost exactly a year to the day since it all began, and Ted rang her doorbell over the car bombing up the street. Ted called her the same day she saw the article about the sentencing in the paper. Malcolm Stark and James Free had been given the death sentence as punishment for their crimes. She had no idea when they would be executed, or even if, given what they might do with appeals, but there was every reason to think they would be. Phillip Addison hadn't even gone to trial yet, but he was in custody, and his lawyers were doing all they could to stall his trial. But sooner or later, Fernanda knew, he would be convicted too. And in the case of the other two, justice had been served. And most important of all, Sam was fine.

“Did you see the sentencing results in the papers?” Ted asked when he called her. He sounded as though he was in a good mood, and he said he was busy. He had left the department, in a flurry of retirement parties for him, the week before.

“Yes, I did,” Fernanda confirmed. “I've never believed in the death penalty.” It had always seemed wrong to her, and she was sufficiently religious to believe that no one had the right to take someone else's life. But nine men had been killed, and a child had been kidnapped. And since it involved her son, for the first time in her life, she thought it was right. “But I do this time,” she admitted to Ted. “It's different, I guess, if it happens to you.” But she also knew that if they had killed her son, even putting the defendants to death wouldn't have brought him back or made it up to her for her loss. She and Sam had just been very, very lucky. And Ted knew that too. It could have been otherwise, and he was grateful it wasn't.

And then she thought of something they'd been talking about for a long time. “When are you coming to dinner?” She owed him so much for all his kindness to them, and dinner was the least she could do. She had missed seeing him in recent months, although it was a sign that all was well in both their lives. She hoped never to need his services again, nor anyone like him, but after all she'd been through with him, she considered him a friend.

“Actually, that's why I called you. I was going to ask if I could drop by. I have a present for Sam.”

“He'll be happy to see you.” She smiled and looked at her watch, she had to get to work. “How about tomorrow?”

“I'd love it.” He smiled, as he jotted down her new address again. “What time?”

“How about seven?”

He agreed, hung up, and sat in his new office, looking out the window and thinking for a long time. It was hard to believe it had all happened a year ago. He had thought of it again when he saw Judge McIntyre's obituary recently. He was lucky too that the car bombing hadn't killed him a year before that. He had died of natural causes.