Dead to Rights

Gently, as if the bone might shatter, Hal Morgan placed his wife’s still wrist back where he had found it. Then, with a groan that was more rage than anything else, he sprang to his feet and headed for the truck once more. Of all the people gathered around at that moment, only the kid in the torn jeans read the murderous look on the other man’s face.

“Leave him he, man,” the kid said, taking hold of Hal’s shoulder, forcibly restraining him. “Let the cops take care of the stupid jerk.”

Seemingly on command, the cops showed up just then, arriving in a cacophony of sirens and a blinding flash of lights. Hal barely noticed. His whole being remained fixed on his wife’s crushed body and on the spot of pavement where the trickle of blood had become a puddle.

Burying his face in his hands, Hal subsided once again next to his wife’s body. The ambulance and fire trucks might be coming, but he knew that whatever aid they brought would be too little, too late. Bo

A uniformed police officer burst through the crowd. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “What happened?”

“He killed her,” Hal Morgan murmured brokenly into his cupped hands. “That rotten, drunken son of a bitch murdered her.”

“Are you okay?” the cop asked. “Were you hit too?” “I’m fine,” Hal insisted. “He hit her, not me.”

Reassured, the cop turned away and fixed his attention on Bo

“I’m sorry about your wife, man,” he managed to say. “I’m really sorry.”

Hal nodded. “Thanks,” he said. “‘Thanks for everything.” When he said thanks, he meant it, because he knew in his soul that had it not been for the restraining weight of that powerful grip, Hal Morgan, too, might have killed someone that night. If the kid hadn’t held him back when Hal started for the truck, the son of a bitch of a driver would have been dead, too. Right then and there. Of injuries inflicted after the incident itself.

Feeling suddenly weak and shaky, Hal limped back over to the edge of the street and sank down on the cold concrete curb. He sat there quietly, knowing all too well what would come next. There would be a world of inquiry-of investigators and paperwork, of questions and answers. In the long run, none of it would make a single whit of difference. What-ever the cops decided in determining how to fix the blame, it wouldn’t bring Bo

As Hal sat there with u

“How did it happen?” the officer asked.

“The guy creamed us,” Hal answered through chattering teeth. “The bastard in the pickup was driving the wrong way up Third. He came screaming around the corner on two wheels and smashed into us right in the middle of the cross-walk.”

“Officer Stephens told me you weren’t hurt, but are you sure you’re okay?”

Hal Morgan shook his head. Already the finality of it was soaking in. “No,” he groaned. “I’m not okay. Bo

ONE

“Mom,” Je

Joa

“Tigger did it again.”

“Did what?”

“Got into another porcupine. Look,” Je

Joa

“What about Sadie?” Joa

“Sadie’s fine.” Je

Joa

“That was good thinking,” Joa

Je

Je

“What?” Je

“Make a bed for him in the backseat with some of those old clean blankets from the laundry room,” Joa

Nodding again, Je

The new Blazer Joa

Back in the bathroom, Joa

While Joa

Hurrying into the bedroom, Joa