Dead Guilty

mainly alone, only occasionally spotting a runner

through the trees.

She wanted to run five miles. That usually took her

anywhere from thirty-five to forty minutes, depending

on how leisurely she wanted to make it. She looked

at her watch. It wasn’t too late.

Today, she felt like running fast. She sprinted

through the trail. Her heart beat fast. It felt good. She

thought she heard the steady rhythm of footfalls be

hind her. Another runner, she thought. It sounded like

a runner. She barely heard it, but she felt the rhythm.

She speeded up her pace. The rhythm was still there.

She glanced back, but she’d just passed a turn and the

trail behind her was hidden by rhododendrons. Recent events had made her paranoid, and she was

starting to become a little worried. She rounded an

other turn, stopped and stepped behind a cluster of

forsythia bushes and waited for several seconds. She

heard the footfalls coming. She stepped back farther

in the bushes, ready to run. Around the turn, passing

her, ran Mike Seger.

‘‘Mike,’’ she called.

He stopped and turned, breathing hard.

‘‘Dr. Fallon. Damn. You are hard to catch up with.

You run fast for an old lady. Andie told me you came

for a run. I run here every day too, but usually in

the morning.’’

Diane walked back onto the trail and started run ning again, but at a slower pace. He caught up with

her.

‘‘So, is this your second run today?’’ she asked. ‘‘No, not today. I had to proctor a makeup exam at

the university this morning. What are you doing out

here by yourself anyway?’’

‘‘The guy who attacked me is dead.’’

‘‘Oh.’’

They ran almost a half-mile loop without talking.

While she ran, Diane’s mind kept turning over the

diamonds—cut and uncut.

‘‘Tell me,’’ Diane asked, ‘‘where’s the closest place

to have a diamond cut?’’

‘‘I’d say New York. No. There’s a guy who teaches

at the tech school. They have courses in diamond cut

ting. Just started last year, one of the very few places

you can learn in the United States.’’

‘‘What’s his name?’’ asked Diane.

Mike thought a moment. ‘‘Joseph something. Jo

seph Isaacson. I think he’s from Belgium.’’ ‘‘Thanks.’’

‘‘In my car I have a map of the cave we are going

to visit. I brought you a copy. I thought you might

like to see it. It’s just the easy section, but that’s all

we are doing this time. Maybe later we can map the