Read Online Stay of Execution by K. L. Murphy - Free Book Online Page A

Cancini shifted on his stool, watching the woman as she joined a table of friends. Two decades earlier, she would have stayed home, afraid to leave the safety of her house. For months, a cloud of fear had hung over this town until Spradlin was arrested. But that was then. Now the deaths of all those girls had been reclassified as unsolved. It burned in his gut.
    Cancini’s bony fingers rubbed at the nicks and scars in the old wooden bar. He hesitated only a few seconds. He knew he would ask, knew he would start something he’d be obligated to finish. “I was wondering about Spradlin’s mother. Did you know her?”
    The man nodded slowly. “A little. She didn’t come in the bar much, but I saw her at church once in a while. She kept to herself far as I know.”
    â€œDo you know anything about her relationship with her son, maybe what her life was like after he went to jail? That kind of thing.”
    The bartender shook his head. “Nah. I wouldn’t know ’bout that.” He rubbed his hand over the gray stubble on his face. “I know someone who might though. Want me to have her give you a call?”
    â€œYeah, sure. I’d appreciate that.”
    Ernie wiped his hands on the rag again before he took Cancini’s card, placing it in the cash register. “Mike, thanks, you know, for doing this, for coming back. I’ll sleep better at night jus’ knowing you’re here.”
    Cancini looked down at his beer. “I’m not doing anything, Ernie, so don’t expect too much. It’s follow-­up. That’s all.”
    The man stared back. “But you know this is wrong, don’t you, Mike? It’s total bullshit. You know it is. You put Spradlin away. You know he’s guilty, right?”
    â€œI don’t know anymore, Ernie.” Cancini shook his head. “The DNA evidence is pretty conclusive.”
    â€œConclusive? Ha! It’s a crock. I don’t know how Spradlin rigged it, but he sure as shit did.” Cancini had heard that same sentiment more than once since his arrival in Little Springs. “Besides, you had other evidence. There was that sweatshirt or T-­shirt or somethin’ and no alibi and I don’t know what else. He’s guilty. Why else would it have stopped?”
    â€œI don’t know, Ernie.”
    â€œBut you believed he was guilty, didn’t you, Mike?”
    â€œI did.”
    â€œAnd now?”
    Cancini ran his fingers around the fat rim of the mug. Why couldn’t he shake the feeling that something wasn’t right?
    â€œI don’t know what I believe, Ernie,” he said, looking into the old man’s eyes. “I wish I did.”

 
    Chapter Fourteen
    â€œH OPE THIS IS okay,” Ted Baldwin said, his voice raised to be heard over the shouting. “You won’t run in to any of your reporter friends here.”
    Shouts erupted in the far corner of the bar and Julia turned in their direction. Several locals cheered and clapped in a circle near a large dartboard. She spotted a jukebox and rusted items hanging from the walls. A musty odor rose from the floor. She blinked several times, her eyes and nose adjusting to the acrid air. “It’s fine.”
    â€œGood,” he said with a smile. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
    She waved a hand. Almost everyone in her business smoked or used to smoke. “Go ahead.”
    â€œIt’s a terrible habit,” he said. “It’s why I come here. It’s the only place I can smoke, and no one notices or cares.” He lit the cigarette, inhaling deeply. His shoulders seemed to relax, and the lines between his brows disappeared. “So, tell me about Julia Manning.”
    She sat back against the wooden chair. The palms of her hands were damp and her heart skipped a beat. The last time anyone had taken a real interest in getting to know her was when