Cut to the Bone(66)

Teddy shoved his bear-like face close. “I like you, Danny. I watched you grow up, working for your pops. But my orders from Earl are clear - next time you get beat till you flop around like Howdy Doody.” He whacked the fracture for an exclamation point . . .

His shudder brought his head back to London.

“Mr. Furman’s attorney made some deft arguments,” he told his mother. “If the Supreme Court agrees, every death sentence in the country is commuted. It’s our best chance yet.”

“Yes, honey, it is,” Verna said. “Earl’s lawyer stopped by the house a little while ago and told me what happened. It’s exciting. Maybe a miracle will occur. Maybe Earl actually won’t-” She bit off the thought.

“Mom?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “I shouldn’t get my hopes up, is all. Hope just drives you crazy.” Long pause. “There’s something else you should know.”

“What’s that?” he said, rubbing his pounding temples. Jet lag, probably.

“If Mr. Furman doesn’t win his case, I’m going to watch Earl die.”

“Think Furman’ll beat the rap?” Detective Burr said as he laid queens over jacks in the sheriff’s locker room.

“Nah,” Detective Rogan said, shoving over the pot in disgust. “The robed wonders will pick their noses, scratch their balls, then tell Georgia, ‘Go ahead, y’all.’ Execution is an American tradition.”

“Like Thanksgiving,” Burr said. “Or college football.”

Rogan pointed his finger. “The Rose Bowl of frying.”

They laughed. Burr dealt the next hand, Rogan the one after that.

“What if ol’ Earl didn’t do it?” Burr said, relighting his Tiparello.

“Like the Japs didn’t bomb Pearl Harbor?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just saying, what if he really didn’t? Like he keeps claiming? We’d be executing an innocent man.”

“We just catch the fish,” Rogan said. “Someone else fries ‘em.”





Thursday

12:28 a.m.

Emily sat on her side of the bed, arms around her tucked-up knees.

She’d been loaded for bear when she walked upstairs, intending to vent her outrage over what she knew was the real problem - Marty leaving her out of that most intimate part of his life. But her dudgeon melted when she saw his size twelve feet - one shod, one bare - splayed on the pillows and his head hanging over the bottom of the bed.

She sighed, tucked a blanket over him. Headed for the shower. Dried quickly, prepped for morning, came to bed. Marty was snorting and mumbling. She kissed his head and neck, feeling so mellow from the dissipation of tension - and that boatload of rum - she didn’t even mind the annoying scrape against her window screen. Time enough to fix it.

To fix us.

She fell asleep.

* * *

Johnny Sanders slept so soundly in the satin sheets that he didn’t hear the phone ring.

“She’s frayed,” Annie sighed into the darkness. “Wary. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Will she be all right?”

“Just punch-drunk. Two years ago, now this. It can get to a person.”

She laid her head on her husband’s chest.

“Because of the Riverwalk attack, Emily’s convinced she’s the real target of our serial,” she said. “The woman did look like her in the dark, and he used a knife. The similarities end there, though. Her head knows that. Her heart believes otherwise.”

“Wouldn’t yours?”

“Sure. And I don’t have half her baggage.”

“You got enough,” he reminded.

“Yeah, but I’m made from titanium,” Annie said.

“Your head maybe. Heart’s a gummy bear.”

Annie smiled. He wasn’t the least bit intimidated by her. Most men ran away when they found out what she did for a living. He ran toward. “Em can’t stand down from red alert,” she said. “That’s why I took her drinking. I wanted her wasted enough to sleep.”

“Rum will do that.”

“Yep,” Annie said, moving away to catch the AC vent. As a self-admitted heat wimp, even small body contact made her sweat. “Maybe she is fine. The things I see are extraordinarily subtle. No one else would notice.”

“But you do, since she’s your best friend.”

“Second-best,” Annie said.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mrs. Bates,” he said. “I feel bad for Em. How can we make her feel better?”

“Catch the son of a bitch.”

“Until then?”

Annie answered by covering his mouth with hers.

“The sacrifices we make for our friends,” hubby murmured, pulling her on top.