Wes Craven

She decided not to. “Took you long enough. Where were you? Havin’ a shot with the old judge, or what was left of him once I left him dried up and spent?” Sam didn’t laugh. He stood there like an erect corpse. This wasn’t the feared downtown barrister, wordless, a strain in his eyes reminiscent of the old days of a near- gone and soul-lost man. Sweet Mary didn’t break the silence. She let quiet do what it did and come back to her. Listening to its mes- sage was a skill she’d learned from the old…