weren’t worth the trees it took to print them. With this
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MARGARET MARON
book, the first sentence grabbed me by the throat and
was so compelling that I was deep into it by the time
Dwight finally got free
“Sorry about supper, shug,” he said when he joined
me. To my surprise, it was five past seven. “I guess we’ll
have to get something at the game.”
I slid my book into the tote bag that held my purse
and papers. “You’re not going to blow me off ?”
“Nope. You’re right. We’ve got good people. Let ’em
run with the ball.”
He picked up his jacket, held my coat for me, and
switched off the light behind us.
“Enjoy the game,” Bo called as we passed his office.
Happily, the lobby was now bare of reporters.
“They were all over the Harris story when I got here.
Y’all hired Melanie Ashworth just in time, didn’t you?”
I said, holding out my hand for his keys. Late as it was,
we didn’t have time to meander in to Raleigh with him
behind the wheel.
He handed them over without dissenting argument
and said tiredly, “You don’t know the half of it. It’s
been one hellacious day. Remember that second right
hand we found?”
“The Alzheimer’s patient who drowned in Apple
Creek?”
Dwight nodded. “The autopsy report just came in.
The body’s definitely Fred Mitchiner, but it turns out
that an animal didn’t just pull the hand loose. Somebody
cut it off.”
“Yeah. That hand had been in the water so long that
the connective tissues were pretty much gone, but there
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HARD ROW
was a ligament that must have still been intact because it
was only recently cut off. Not when he first died.”
“Someone killed him?”
“Hard to say. The ME doesn’t think so. There’s no
evidence of trauma to the body, but he’d been in the
water so long that there’s no way to know if he drowned
by accident or if someone held him under.”
I gave Dwight my tote bag to stash behind the seat
and unlocked the truck. Although we were in danger
of missing the opening face-off, we would also miss the
rush hour traffic.
“Another cute thing,” Dwight said as we pulled out
