He turned to Cowart. 'You want to see?'

'Of course. Let's go,' he replied, too quickly.

Hawkins looked at him closely. 'Don't be so sure. You always want to see so damn quick. It ain't nice. Take my word for it this time.'

'No,' Cowart said. 'It's my job, too.'

The detective shrugged. I take you in, you gotta promise something.'

'What's that?'

'You see what he did, then I show him to you – no questions, you just get a look at him, he's in the kitchen – but you make sure you get into the paper that he's no boy next door. Got it? That he's not some poor, disadvantaged little kid. That's what his lawyer's gonna start saying just as soon as he gets here. I want it different. You tell them that he's a stone-cold killer, got it? Stone-cold. I don't wanna have anybody pick up the paper and see a picture of him and think, How could a nice kid like that have done this?'

'I can do that,' Cowart said.

'Okay.' The detective shrugged, rose, and they started to walk toward the front door. As they were about to pass inside, he turned to Cowart and said, 'You sure? These are folks just like you and me. You won't forget this one. Not ever.'

'Let's go.'

'Matty, let an old guy look out for you for once.'

'Come on, Vernon.'

'It's your nightmare, then,' the detective said. He'd been absolutely right about that.