Forty-Six
Clarence balked when the deputy pushed him toward the open cell door. He strained against the handcuffs.
"It's just until we figure this all out sir ... uh, Mr. Timmelsen. They'll bring supper in a little bit."
Clarence stared at the bars. He barely heard the words.
"Sir?" Todd stepped in front of Clarence and pulled him along.
Clarence stumbled.
Bars. He had spent sixty years behind bars. But these cell bars and window bars marched toward him like the brooms in that old movie they had shown in prison. That part had terrified most of the inmates. Old childhood monsters chasing them down.
The deputy's radio sputtered. "Todd, you on supper break?"
Todd glanced at Clarence. "Naw. No time."
"Get to ER. A white male seems suspicious—bleeding profusely. Lawn service guy droppe
