Page 46 of Over Her Dead Body

He checks the report. “Mercer.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

He keeps looking at the page, as though he might have written a better answer without noticing.

I touch one finger to the underlined sentence.

Yesterday, I would have explained the problem.

Today, that would constitute a third chance.

I move to the next page.

“When Loring arrived without the referral, what did the cancellation do to Emma?”

He looks at the report. “She went into the preview room.”

“That’s where she went. I asked what changed.”

“I don’t understand.” The words come out sharper than he intended. “Do you want me to guess what she was thinking?”

I close the report and look at the man behind him.

He turns to see what I’m looking at. When he faces me again, his good hand is covering the injured one.

“I can do better,” he says.

“You did.”

He looks up.

“This is better.”

Relief reaches his face before he can stop it.

“The problem,” I say, “is that this is your better.”

The relief leaves.

“No,” he says, understanding at last. “Wait.”

I look at the man on his left.

He removes a length of cord from inside his jacket.

The chair goes over first. His bandaged hand strikes the floor, and the sound he makes is not a word. One man pins his shoulders. The other draws the cord tight.

His shoes scrape against the wood until they don’t.

It takes longer than I would prefer and less time than replacing him will.

At 7:12 p.m., he is dead.

At 7:14 p.m., his photograph is taken.

His face is visible.