Carson held his spiteful gaze for a beat, then two, his lungs empty of oxygen, his heart stuck somewhere between beats. “I want the truth.”
Stokes didn’t waiver. “I don’t know who killed your people, Tanner. The only thing I can tell you for sure is that I didn’t.”
25
3:20 p.m.
Carson Tanner had crossed the line.
Lynch watched as Tanner walked calmly to his vehicle, though Lynch felt certain there was nothing calm about the way he felt.
Wainwright would not be happy.
Lynch waited patiently until Tanner had driven through the prison gates. He started his Charger and followed the same route, maintaining a risk-free distance behind the vehicle.
He had known Carson Tanner was up to something more than investigating Annette Baxter.
The visit to Holman pretty much confirmed it.
Tanner was still looking into the murder of his folks.
Even after Stokes had confessed.
Even after he’d been warned.
Not good. Not good at all.
Lynch picked up speed as he turned onto the larger thoroughfare. He liked Carson Tanner, thought he was a good man. But this, this was bad, bad, bad.
This would get him killed.
26
8:45 p.m.
Reverend Abraham Woods Jr Boulevard, Birmingham
Birmingham Museum of Art
Elizabeth kept the requisite smile firmly in place as she moved about the room. She had shaken two hundred hands, exchanged summer vacation stories, and urged the wealthy of Birmingham to be generous.
The night was already a rousing success and it was scarcely half over.
Her parents were here. District Attorney and Mrs. Wainwright. Mayor and Mrs. Duke. The elite had turned out in droves. And she had done what she did best: persuaded them to part with their money.
Yet she was alone.
She paused. Allowed her thoughts to wander to Carson for the first time since her arrival. He’d promised to escort her tonight. But then, at seven, a mere half hour before he should have picked her up, he’d called to cancel. Something urgent related to his investigation had come up. Disappointing to say the least, but she chose to be understanding.
Perhaps this was why her mother took to her sickbed two or three times per week and Mrs. Wainwright took a bottle to bed each night.
The life of a politician’s wife was not an easy one.
But it was her calling. Elizabeth smiled. She had loved Carson Tanner since she was five years old.
Their mothers had laughed and said that the two were destined to be together judging from their playground antics.
But that had been before. Everything had changed and her parents had forced her to go away.
