The words were just words, but the inference was plain to Rosa. She nodded. That was enough for Haley. No, Rosa would not let him down. How could she? If she did, it would be so simple to drag her down with him. Haley waited. Until the night of the execution. Then, quite calmly, he stretched out on his cot, under the glaring light of the naked
electric bulb,
and closed
his eyes.
Nor did Rosa fail him. She heard the news on the radio. She stood with her hands over her face, listening to the voice of the announcer, and her indecision was a palpable, throbbing thing. Her fingers were weak when she silenced the squawking box.
His breathing slowed, practically ceased. His heart and pulse faded until they were inaudible. For the next thirtysix hours, for all intents and purposes,
he would be a corpse. Haley’s last thought was of Rosa. No, she would not fail him. Then, the darkness descended.
It was such a simple decision. Do as Haley asked, claim his body ... or die with him. Haley would not
condemn her. Yet Rosa hesitated. Rosa was many things, but she was not a criminal, a murderess. She was a soft blob of helplessness, molded by the harsh feelings of circumstance. She went to the prison, finally, twenty-four hours after Haley’s “death,” as he’d instructed her. She stood outside the towering gates and waited.
hesitate to