Free Stay of Execution by K. L. Murphy Page A

head jerked back in surprise. “Is that what you think?”
    â€œNot really,” he said. “But I know that’s what some ­people think, and I can’t blame them. So, yes, I am scared in a way. I’m scared for what Spradlin’s presence is going to do to this town. I don’t need any trouble, and the college sure as hell doesn’t, either.”
    â€œNo, it doesn’t,” a voice from behind Baldwin interrupted. A man with dark, cropped hair and piercing eyes stepped from behind the mayor and stood over the table. “At least that’s one thing we can agree on. Right, Teddy?” The mayor ignored the man, who reached out and shook Julia’s hand. “Mike Cancini.”
    â€œJulia Manning,” she said, squinting. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
    â€œNo.” He shifted his attention to Baldwin. “Teddy, I need to have a word with you. Alone.”
    Cancini wore a brown leather sport coat and rumpled khaki pants. Stylish, he wasn’t. Although his build was average, he stood tall, his presence demanding the mayor’s attention. His nose was long and narrow, bordering on prominent. But it was his eyes, a dark hazel, almost black in the dim lighting, that drew her to his otherwise ordinary face.
    Baldwin fiddled with his pack of cigarettes. “It’s not the best time, Mike.”
    â€œMike Cancini. Mike Cancini.” Julia said his name out loud, rolled it around on her tongue, and slapped her thigh. “I do know you. You’re Detective Mike Cancini. D.C. I write for the Washington Herald .”
    â€œFigures,” he muttered, wheeling around to face Baldwin. “It can wait. I’ll be at your office tomorrow morning. Nine sharp.”
    The mayor slid another cigarette between his lips. “Fine.” He focused on his lighter and cigarette, inhaling deeply.
    Julia watched the detective walk away. “Well,” she said, breaking the silence that had settled over the table, “that might be one of the rudest men I’ve ever met.”
    Baldwin blew out smoke. “Might be?” The mayor wasn’t smiling. His face was glum, his eyes far away.
    â€œWhat’s he doing here anyway? He’s Washington.”
    The mayor picked at the corner of the cocktail napkin under his empty beer mug. “Mike Cancini lived here for a time. Back then actually.”
    Her mouth dropped open, and her fingers itched for the second time in two days. “During the investigation?”
    â€œYeah. He was fresh out of the academy and was a rookie in our department. I was interning there, too, while I was in law school.”
    Julia’s heart thumped in her chest. Damn. It had been right in front of her, in those articles from the town paper. How could she have missed it? “He was working as a Little Springs cop then? Was he on the case?”
    â€œEveryone was. It was his first job as I remember, a training type job.” A wry smile crossed his face. “Some training, right?”
    She ignored his comment. “I still don’t get why he’s here now. What’s the point? Is he just curious?”
    The smile evaporated. “Mike Cancini is never just curious.” He rolled the napkin scraps between his fingers, his lips pursed. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but if I don’t, someone else will.” Julia drew in her breath, waiting. “We didn’t have many guys in the squad when Mike got here. This wasn’t exactly a high crime town, still isn’t. Traffic tickets, the occasional drunk and disorderly, stuff like that. Chief Hobson was in charge back then. Passed away now. Mike started out working with campus security after the second girl was found. Reviewed the missing persons reports. Looked for connections in class schedules. Interviewed students. That kind of stuff.” He paused, squeezing the ragged pieces of napkin into a ball. “It was