Chapter 23

Gregg lifted an eyebrow. “You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?”

Spence nodded. “For a second. Yeah. But I talked myself out of it.” He explained why. “So, no, you’re not the killer. Thank God. I need at least one person on my side.”

“I am that.” Gregg smiled. “I haven’t even written the story, which is why I came here to begin with. And I won’t. Not until it has some resolution.”

“Let’s hope it does,” Spence muttered.

“It will. Between us we’re going to figure it out. But not this second. I’ll go home and start reading this—” he held up the book, “—and you get some sleep.”

“I will.”

Gregg left, and, much to his surprise, Spence did get some sleep, after taking a long, hot shower and popping a couple of aspirin. 8

When he woke up, Spence felt better than he had since Jeff’s death. The healing power of sleep. Or as Shakespeare put it, ‘Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care’.