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furiously in notebooks. She held up her small recorder, ensuring she did not misquote or misrepresent a single word.
    When the crowd quieted, the mayor said, “But the courts have reviewed new evidence, DNA evidence, that says we have lived all these years under a false sense of security. I know this is difficult for most of you to understand.” He paused when another angry wave of voices grew louder. Although the crowd was becoming increasingly restless, the police did nothing but stand along the sidewalks, watching. Waiting for the noise to die down, the mayor wiped his brow again. “The evidence, however, does not support Leo Spradlin’s conviction. In fact, it proves his innocence.” He stopped and scanned the packed street again. His tone remained neutral, as though reciting baseball statistics or reading a news article. “The law is designed to make us feel safe by protecting us from those who mean to harm us, but when a man has been falsely imprisoned for over twenty years, it is also the law’s responsibility to protect that man.”
    Shouts came from the throng. They pushed forward, closer to the podium.
    â€œIt’s a load of crap!”
    â€œIf Spradlin’s so innocent, then who killed those girls?”
    â€œIt’s some damn technicality the lawyers dreamed up!”
    Julia craned to pick out the dissenters, but there were too many. Faces in the crowd were flushed with anger, and fists were raised in the air. The mayor’s speech was not helping.
    â€œPlease,” he said, shouting over them. “Let me finish.” There were more cries of outrage, but eventually, even those fizzled to muttered cursing and spitting. “The legal system in our great state has declared Leo Spradlin innocent, and his conviction has been overturned. These are the facts.” He continued, “As most of you know, he has chosen to return to Little Springs and would like to say a few words.” He angled his head slightly toward Spradlin. “Here he is.”
    Low murmurs gathered momentum when the man stepped to the podium. The mayor moved behind Spradlin, his eyes downcast. Stepping forward, the newly freed man stood tall, his back ramrod-­straight, his face pink in the afternoon heat. Julia waited, her curiosity piqued by the man’s patient manner in spite of the animosity in the crowd. Several minutes passed. Then the noise seemed to taper off, as though the mob was losing steam, or more likely, wondering what the man had to say. He stood motionless, his hands wrapped loosely around the microphone. Julia leaned forward, standing on her tiptoes. When he spoke, his voice was strong and booming, sexy. She shivered, and goose bumps rose on her neck and arms. His words took them all by surprise, made them stop and wonder.
    â€œI forgive you, Little Springs. I forgive you.”

 
    Chapter Nine
    T HE CROWD RELEASED a collective breath, and the air of hostility evaporated in an instant, swept away by Spradlin’s words. Cancini stood at the edge of the crowd, avoiding the fray. He frowned. Spradlin forgave them? The folks of Little Springs stood speechless, but the silence wouldn’t last. Cancini knew all too well the backlash the man’s words might ignite.
    Spradlin stood in front of the very ­people who’d accused him, hated him, and turned their backs on him, as though he were standing at a pulpit, a holy reverend forgiving his ­people their multitude of sins. A benevolent smile on his face, he spoke again, his tone soft and inviting. “I have a confession to make.”
    Cancini squinted in the sun, shading his eyes with his hand, the muscles in his neck and shoulders tightening. He scanned the stunned faces in the crowd, one hand on the pistol hidden under his suit jacket. No one moved. No one spoke. They waited for Spradlin to explain, their anger turning to disbelief and curiosity.
    â€œAll those years in prison, all that time on