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always a big man, had added some girth to his sizable frame, yet still managed to look fit. His face had grown rounder over the years, his skin darker, as though permanently sunburned. His hair was still thick, parted on the side, and brushed back. He wore a starched white shirt tucked into a pair of dark slacks. Gold cuff links flashed at his wrists. “You called me,” Cancini said. “What’s so important that we had to meet in person?”
    Baldwin plucked at the napkin, absently tearing off the corners. Tiny pieces fell to the table. ­“People are awful unhappy here, Mike. They don’t like what’s happened.”
    Cancini sighed. This was not news. “Teddy, why’d you want to see me?”
    â€œIt’s Ted now.”
    The waitress refilled Cancini’s cup and brought another for Baldwin. “Teddy,” he said again, drawing out the name. “What did you need to talk to me about?”
    Baldwin’s fingers ripped at the napkin. “We were friends once, Mike.” Cancini didn’t reply. “Well, anyway, after you left, I stayed. Finished law school and worked to rebuild this town and the college. I served on the town council for a while.” He paused, dropping the shredded napkin on the table. “I’m in my second term as mayor now. Little Springs is my town. You were here what? A year? I’ve spent my whole life here. It’s my home, and it’s important to me.” He licked his lips, grabbing a second napkin out of the paper dispenser. Cancini waited. Wiping his brow, the mayor said, “I called you about Spradlin. I figured you’d heard about his release.” Cancini nodded. “You thought Spradlin was guilty. You put him away.”
    â€œYeah, I thought he was guilty. The jury thought so, too. That’s what the evidence said.”
    â€œIt was more than the evidence for you. You were always suspicious of Leo, long before anyone else. You followed your instincts.”
    Cancini flicked the front page of the newspaper. “According to this, Spradlin has spent most of his life in jail for crimes he didn’t commit. According to this, I put an innocent man behind bars.”
    Baldwin’s light eyes locked on Cancini’s. “Do you believe that? That you made a mistake? That the jury made a mistake?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter what I believe.”
    â€œIt matters,” the mayor said. “It matters, or you wouldn’t be here.”
    The men stared at each other. Baldwin might have been half right, but Cancini wasn’t about to let him know that. It was true he’d believed Spradlin was guilty, and even in light of new DNA evidence and the knowledge that there’d been a mistake, that belief gnawed at his gut. He needed to witness the press conference for himself. Baldwin didn’t need to know any of that, either.
    â€œLook, Teddy, what’s done is done. They didn’t ask my opinion. New evidence appeared and cleared Spradlin. This isn’t my case anymore.”
    The mayor’s fingers twitched, picking at another napkin. “But it should be.”
    â€œThat’s not going to happen. I don’t live here. I’m a detective in Washington now and you know that. Besides, there’s nothing for me to investigate. The FBI will be handling things.” Cancini started to slide out of the booth. “Good luck, Teddy.”
    Baldwin’s hand gripped Cancini’s forearm. The pressure of Teddy’s oversized hand and the wary expression on his face told Cancini everything he needed to know. “Maybe there’s nothing to investigate yet, but there will be.”
    Cancini looked at the hand on his arm and narrowed his hazel eyes to slits. Baldwin let go. “You don’t know that.”
    â€œTrue. Not the way you mean, but you’re not the one who spoke to Spradlin. I told you he called me.”
    â€œYou mentioned that. So? You were