Free Not in the Heart by Chris Fabry

we take it for granted.”
    â€œHe’s going to get through this. Ten years from now, this will all be a bad dream.”
    I reached out to touch her hand and she pulled back. She tried to mask the instinctive move, but my observational powers are superior to those of mere humans.
    â€œDo you want to get something to eat in the cafeteria?” she said.
    As hungry as I was, I imagined the pain of chewing Cap’n Crunch with my loose molars and it felt like torture. “I’d better hold off on that. Expect me back before noon, okay?”
    She nodded and stood. “And get that looked at, Tru.”

C HAPTER 8
    Dennis Sawyer pulled up to the Denny’s in an ancient Toyota Camry. Not exactly the image of the grizzled ex-cop/crack PI I’d expected, but at least he was on time. Portly and balding, he wore white Dockers, open-toed sandals, and a tentlike Hawaiian shirt that hung loosely over his belly. With the sunglasses and mustache he could have passed as an aging rock star. I waved at him from the back of the restaurant, but he seemed to know where I was as soon as he hit the front door.
    He shook my hand and glanced at my face. “Run into some trouble?”
    â€œYeah, IHOP got jealous.”
    He snickered and the waitress arrived. He ordered without ever looking at the menu: coffee and the special. I wasn’t sure how the food would sit on my acid-filled stomach but I was starving and ordered pancakes. Easier to chew. The orange juice and coffee were probably a mistake, but I couldn’t help myself.
    My head still felt cloudy without much sleep. I needed to focus. I thanked him for meeting and he seemed uninterested in small talk. How are the kids? Do you have kids? What’s your favorite color? It wasn’t his style, which I appreciated.
    â€œWhy are you so interested in Conley?”
    â€œHe and his family asked me to write a book. It’s what I do.”
    He seemed unimpressed. “A little late to change the outcome, isn’t it?”
    â€œI think he’s resigned to the needle. He’s actually trying to become the first heart-transplant donor from death row.”
    â€œWho’s the lucky recipient?”
    â€œMy son.”
    He stared at me. The coffee came and we both partook, our first station of Denny’s communion service.
    â€œHow much do you know?” Sawyer said.
    â€œWhat I’ve read from the news clippings and court transcripts. Chandler said it was the cleanest conviction he’d ever had.”
    â€œIs that what George said?” He pursed his lips like someone had squeezed a lemon into his coffee. “Well, he was right. It was the easiest.”
    â€œYou had doubts about Conley, though.”
    â€œStill do. Everybody congratulated themselves. Made a lot of people happy to catch a perp and get a conviction that fast.”
    â€œChandler called you a bleeding heart. Against the death penalty.”
    Sawyer gave a wry smile. “I got no problem with the death penalty for people who deserve it. And I don’t know about Conley. Something tells me he probably deserved being behind bars for a lot of things, but not the murder of Diana Wright.”
    He used her name, not just “the victim.” Interesting that after eleven years he still had a connection. “What happened with the investigation?”
    â€œWe got the missing-person report from the mother. We interviewed people who worked at the shop. There had been some kind of altercation with a drunk on the street. We got the surveillance video from the salon and the pet store next door, made a positive ID on the guy, and traced Conley to a junkyard.”
    â€œHe lived there?”
    â€œSlept in a little pop-up trailer toward the back of the lot. The owner said he’d hired Conley as a night watchman, if you can believe it.”
    â€œHow’d you find the body?”
    â€œA dog. Took her about a minute to find it. Shallow grave by a