A Ghost of Justice Read Free

free in three more days if there is no room to keep him.  I checked this morning.  The jails are at 127%.  If they stay that way, or go up, the sheriff will have no option.  It's 
    the law."
    Bob Sheafer asked, "Why does my brother get the job?  I mean, it was his own…"  Bob put his hand over his eyes for a second.  "Steve was like one of my own to me," he said softly, gesturing to the two men beside him.  "And mine are as much a part of Eric's own to him."
    The younger, Ed, laid a hand on his shoulder.  Frank, at the far end of the sofa, was leaning forward, elbows on his knees.  He glanced at his father, then resumed
    studying the carpet at his feet.
    "God, Phil," Bob said.  "If David hadn't been with Tricia and little Vicki at the game, Eric would've lost his grandson, too.  Thank God Emily was with him and not staying with her brother.  Eric would've lost his whole family.  Now we're going to have to tell him we've already buried his son and daughter-in-law?  And the state says, 'Sorry, but you've got to get their killer yourself,' on top of it all?  Christ, that's a hell of a thing."
    "I'm sorry, Bob.  There's nothing we can do.  The law specifies next-of-kin as the 'executioner-of-record.'  Strictly applied, that would mean David.  But, since--"
    "Since he's a minor, " Frank interrupted.  "That leaves Uncle Eric as the hangman.  God, this is a shitty law."
    "Yeah," Phil agreed.  "But there's a chance some gang of punks will kill Hardy.  Jeez.  A lot of redneck and militia types love this law.  Turned it into a damned sport.  He's likely to be dead before he can leave the vicinity of the jail."
    "And he will be if I get a chance," Ed Sheafer said bitterly.
    "Get in line, Eddie," Frank said.
    Phil studied Frank for a moment.  Now the eldest of his generation, he sat staring at nothing, rhythmically pounding his palm with a clenched fist, the muscles in his neck standing out.  Phil realized Frank had been in agony since that night, blaming himself for being the last to see them alive, for leaving when he did.  Pointless self-blame, but all a part of his grieving.  Ed was somewhere in the same mental state, having just returned, on
    that horrible night, from a trip to the western part of the state.  Everyone here was blaming themselves for one thing or another in the aftermath of Steve and Kelly's deaths.  Forgotten birthdays, a rudeness, argument.  Anything, little or not.
    Better make sure they are clear on it, he thought.  "The designation 'executioner-of-record' is more than just a legal term.  It means that, given the right circumstances, Eric can be acquitted of wrongful death if he honestly believes he kills John Hardy and it turns out to be mistaken identity.  That leniency extends to no one else.  If any of you, or any other citizen, for that matter, goes after Mr. Hardy, be absolutely certain before you kill him."  One by one, he called them by name and looked for their acknowledgment.  He had to say Frank's name twice.  The new eldest of old Eric's grandchildren lagged but raised up to make eye contact.
    That done, Phil glanced down at the carpet, not intentionally in mimic of Frank, then back up.  "Have any of you been able to contact Eric at all?  I've had no luck.  I have sent a sub-orbit mailer to him, but I'd like to get hold of him in real-time."
    Ed spoke up.  "Mom finally got through to Cairo last night.  He's still out at his 'dig' site, but she talked to a Consortium member.  They're going to get someone in Siwah to drive out and bring him in.  They've had a lot of trouble with storms and atmospherics or something messing up communications all through Egypt and the rest of the Mediterranean.  And I'm sure Uncle Eric's been more concerned with his work than in the world out here."  Ed shook his head slowly.  He leaned back, staring into space. "I'm glad I'm not the one who has to tell him," he said in a whisper.
    Phil nodded.  "It's all going to be