‘‘No, and I’m starved. The museum restaurant is open for a while yet. Mind if we eat there?’’
‘‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’’ said Andie, going out the door. ‘‘Good to see you, Frank. Miss you at karaoke.’’
‘‘Bye, Andie. Thanks,’’ called Diane.
‘‘You want to eat at the museum? Sounds like you’re planning a late night working.’’
He stepped close and drew her into a kiss. Frank felt good—and safe, like home. She wanted to hang on to him, but she let go.
‘‘I’ve got to get the last skeleton done.’’
As Diane checked her E-mail and looked through the messages Andie had left for her, she told Frank the whole story—the Cobber’s Wood hanging victims, the timber cruisers who found the bodies, and now Ray mond, the diener. She tacked on the E-mail note to her narrative.
‘‘Damn. I can’t leave you alone at all.’’
‘‘Can you trace the E-mail?’’
‘‘Probably.’’
‘‘I’d appreciate that . . .’’ The ringing of her office phone cut her off. Diane grabbed it midring. ‘‘Fallon?’’
‘‘Finally. We can talk. You’re a hard woman to reach.’’
The voice was rough textured and unfamiliar to Diane. He talked slow, with a south Georgia accent.
‘‘Who is this?’’
‘‘Did you like the flowers?’’
Chapter 19
‘‘You put the flowers in my car?’’ Diane looked at the caller ID on her office phone. NO DATA. She had picked up the receiver too soon. ‘‘Why didn’t you sign the card?’’
Frank stood, took his cell phone from his pocket and backed out of her office while he dialed. She as sumed he was having the call traced.
‘‘It was unnecessary.’’
‘‘What does ‘To Justice’ mean?’’
‘‘Just that. I saw on TV that you are a sincere
woman. I want you to know that I understand that, but you don’t have the whole picture.’’
‘‘Is that why you’re calling—to make sure I understand?’’
‘‘The thing you said on the TV—about all murder ers being evil.’’
‘‘That’s not exactly what I said.’’
‘‘It’s close enough. That’s what you meant. You can’t say things like that without knowing all the cir cumstances. Sometimes it’s the so-called murder vic tim who’s evil. The so-called murderer is just seeing that justice is done.’’
Diane tried to stall for time. ‘‘First of all, you need to know the television interview was some old stock footage they had from when we opened the crime lab. I was talking about murder in general.’’
‘‘I know. That’s just the thing. You can’t talk about murder in general, unless you know all the circum stances all the time, and you don’t.’’
‘‘I know that everyone deserves their life.’’
‘‘Then you don’t believe in giving murderers the death sentence?’’
‘‘I believe in following the law.’’
‘‘You’re just playing with words.’’
‘‘It sounds like you have some personal experience . . .’’ She heard a click. Damn. She hadn’t handled that well.
‘‘I’m sorry,’’ she said as Frank came into the office. ‘‘I couldn’t hold him on the line any longer.’’
Frank took a pen and scribbled a number on Di ane’s desk calendar. ‘‘The call was made from this pay phone at the Rest Aplenty Motel out on 441.’’
‘‘You had time to trace it?’’
‘‘That business about losing the trace if you don’t keep people talking for several minutes is just a device used by the movies to keep the detectives from finding the killer too quickly.’’ Frank pulled his chair closer to Diane and sat down. ‘‘Phone companies have been able to trace a call in a matter of seconds for more than twenty years.’’
‘‘You’re kidding.’’
‘‘No, I’m not. You just have to know who in the phone company to talk to. I called the police and asked them to check it out, but I imagine he’s gone by now.’’
‘‘I didn’t know there were any pay phones any more.’’
‘‘There’s a few still left, but they’re disappearing. So, what did this guy say?’’
‘‘Not much.’’
Diane related the conversation almost verbatim. She watched Frank as she talked. He listened, leaning for ward in his chair, his elbows on his knees, hands loosely clasped together. His short salt-and-pepper hair looked steel gray under the lights of her office. He looked good in his blue jeans and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. Frank seemed to listen with his blue-green eyes—he nar rowed them in a way that made
