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responsible for his conviction in Erickson being thrown out. I believe he thinks of me as a friend, and he has no reason to hurt us.”
    “He’s an insane serial killer, Brad. He doesn’t need a reason. He was nice to you because he wanted you to work hard for him, but he’d kill either one of us without shedding a tear.”
    “That’s true in the abstract, but why would he want to hurt me? Clarence kills women.”
    “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman.”
    Brad smiled. “Actually, I have noticed. But you’re not the type of woman Clarence fixates on. All of his victims were teenagers or in their early twenties. You’re an old married woman.”
    Ginny cast a stern look at Brad. “Are you’re telling me I’m over the hill?”
    “I admit that I married you as a humanitarian act.”
    “Oh well. Since you married me as an act of charity, I guess you won’t be interested in having mind-bending, erotic sex tonight.”
    Brad couldn’t help smiling at the thought. “It’s true that I’m totally uninterested in sleeping with you, but now that we’re married, I feel I have an obligation to keep you sexually satisfied.”
    Ginny cocked an eyebrow. “We’ll see about tonight, buster.” Then she got serious again.
    “You really think we’ll be okay?” she asked.
    Brad gave Ginny a reassuring smile. “I do. And it’s going to be a while before we have to think about Clarence Little, anyway. The state will appeal the judge’s ruling. Then, if his decision is upheld, there will be the new trials. That will take years, and he’ll probably get convicted. Don’t let Mr. Little spoil your day.”
    Ginny put her plate and coffee cup in the dishwasher and went into the bathroom to finish putting on her makeup. As soon as she was out of sight, Brad’s encouraging smile disappeared. Well over a year ago, on the evening of the presidential election, he and Ginny had returned to their apartment in Portland in a raging downpour. Ginny had gone to the bathroom to dry her hair, and Brad had started to go into the kitchen to put up water for tea when he’d spotted a white envelope on the entryway floor. His name and address had been handwritten, and there had been no return address. The letter was from Clarence Little.
Dear Brad,
I knew I was right to trust you. I’ve just learned that my conviction for the murder of the Erickson girl is going to be set aside and that’s all due to your hard work. I’ll still be executed, but I can live with that, if you’ll pardon the pun. I’d invite you to the execution, but I know you’re squeamish. My only regret is that I didn’t get to go to court to overturn the conviction. I might have seen my lovely pinkie collection one last time. Oh well, one can’t have everything. Good luck on your new job and your marriage to the lovely Ginny. She’s a sweetheart. Too bad I won’t get a chance to know her.
Your friend,
Clarence.
    Brad had destroyed the letter immediately. He knew Ginny would be upset if she thought Clarence was interested in her. What Brad didn’t understand was how Little was able to learn anything about Ginny. The letter had been hand-delivered, so the obvious answer was that the person who had delivered the letter had told Little about Ginny. Brad had decided against confronting his ex-client. It was better to ignore him.
    Even locked up on death row, three thousand miles away, Clarence Little still scared the hell out of Brad. The idea that he might gain his freedom was terrifying. Brad hadn’t lied to Ginny when he said he believed that Little appreciated what he’d done for him. But Ginny had been right. Little was a conscienceless sociopathic serial killer whose mood changed with the wind. There was no telling what he would do if he was released from custody.

Chapter Four
    U nless you’ve stood for public office, it’s almost impossible to appreciate the rigors of running for election. On Tuesday afternoon, United States Senator Jack Carson