The Dead Detective (30 page)

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
-S
EVEN

Two weeks later

L
ucy Santos stood on Mandalay Avenue
staring at the side street where her son’s house was located. The parole board had ordered her to stay at least one hundred yards away from him. But she knew they didn’t really mean it. Oh, for a time they’d insist that she stay away, but soon Harry would tell them he wanted to see his mother; soon God would intervene and show him it was necessary. And then, when God told her it was time, she would finish her mission.

Earlier that day she had gone to Jimmy’s grave. She had talked to him as only a mother can, told him how she knew that everything Harry had said to her was a lie, how Jesus would always love and protect her, how He would never cast her into the burning pit of hell. She had even told him about her plan. But it had not been a very satisfactory visit. A cold breeze had come off Jimmy’s grave that she did not understand. It was probably Harry’s doing, but she would have to pray about that; she would have to understand it before she continued. Right now she just needed to see where Harry lived, see what kind of aura his house gave off. Yes, that would be good to know.

She stepped off the curb and headed for Harry’s street. She knew she wouldn’t see him today. No, not yet. But soon, Harry. I’ll see you very, very soon.