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

terrible. I don’t know if you know this already, but my dad was president of the college back then. It was around the holidays. Dad took it hard. Everyone did. Nothing like this had ever happened in the history of this town. No one knew what to do. Chief Hobson did his best, but he was old.” His light eyes glistened under the low lights. “After the Christmas break, some kids didn’t come back, but a lot did. All of us in the squad pulled shifts working security on campus.” Baldwin lit another cigarette, his hands shaking. “It didn’t matter what we did. More girls died. Hobson called in the FBI.”
    Julia rubbed the goose bumps on her arms.
    â€œThe feds didn’t have much to go on. There just wasn’t much evidence. Then Mike discovered Spradlin had known two of the victims. Then it was three. He was like a dog with a bone. He got a search warrant and found a sweatshirt at Spradlin’s mother’s house. It matched the torn piece found at the river, where the first girl was found.” Baldwin sat back. “It was Mike Cancini who broke the case. Not the FBI. Cancini went after Spradlin, built the case against him.”
    She blinked. “You almost make it sound personal, like he went after Spradlin for a reason.”
    Baldwin answered sharply. “You don’t understand. The murders stopped. It all stopped.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the half-­full ashtray. “Cancini was a hero around here. He arrested Spradlin, and it stopped. Everything was better then. Everyone was safe again.”
    She thought about the man who’d left the bar, an experienced detective from a metropolitan city where the number of homicides in a year might outnumber all the homicides in the history of Little Springs. What had he been like when he was young and green? What had it been like to be inexperienced, an outsider in the middle of an investigation as big as this one? He’d come for training and ended up with credit for the biggest collar in this county’s history. Baldwin said the young Cancini had been like a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t rest until he got his man. Maybe he should have been less single-­minded.
    â€œI understand,” she said slowly, her voice soft. “I don’t know why everything stopped, but it must have been a coincidence. He was wrong about Spradlin. An innocent man spent most of his life in jail because of Detective Cancini. In my book, that doesn’t make Mike Cancini a hero.”
    The mayor stared at her. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said. He threw some bills on the table.
    â€œWait, Ted, I—­” He cut her off.
    â€œI like you, Julia, I do.” His tone was distant. “That’s why I’m going to give you a warning. Be careful what you say and to whom you say it. This town is filled with good ­people, and whether you think it’s right or not, they believe Mike Cancini is the reason the rapes and murders stopped. They believed it then, and they believe it now. Don’t romanticize Spradlin. You won’t win any friends and will probably make a few enemies.”
    â€œBut—­”
    â€œBe careful, Julia. Very careful.”

 
    Chapter Fifteen
    F ADED CURTAINS FLAPPED at the window, rising and falling with the warm breeze. The sweet scent of wild honeysuckle hung in the air. Oblivious to the buzzing of the tree crickets, he stared at the ceiling. Despite the dark and the hum of nature, sleep was proving elusive. It was the girl. He couldn’t erase his vision of her bouncing blond ponytail or tight T-­shirt. The urges were getting stronger. His fingers twitched, and he curled them into his palms. He shouldn’t have gone to the campus. It was stupid, but he’d only gone to look. The sorority house, her house, was the second in a row of ten. The houses were carbon copies, all the same, with their wide porches and huge letters