Chapter 12
They stood easily, looking at each other. Beauvais held his Police Special .38 as though he had forgotten he had it.
He was not the man in Laurel Dane's picture, except that he still had his big pantherish body and his swarthy good looks. But he had aged and hardened, and there was no laughter in him. His skin was pale with the bleaching of three years in the cell blocks, but it only made the brown of his eyes browner and the black of his brows and hair blacker. The lines around his mouth were like scars, cut deep.
Laurel's husband. The first man she loved, the only man she married, the man who had taken steel because of her. It didn't register. Clive thought, That wasn't Laurel. That was a redheaded kid named Sue Tanner, a girl I never met. And he never met Laurel. But they
