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Hangman Faye Kellerman For Jonathan—the complete man, from A to Z And for Lila and Oscar—hugs and kisses Table of Contents THE PICTURES HAD photographed her swollen, battered, and bruised—a puffy lip, two black eyes, a bloated and bright face. Decker found it nearly impossible to reconcile those snapshots with the remarkable-looking woman who sat before him. Terry had changed in the fifteen years. She had morphed from a beautiful sixteen-year-old girl to an elegant, stunning woman. Age had turned her face softer and rounder with the fragile exquisiteness of a Victorian cameo. His eyes traveled from the picture to her face. He raised an eyebrow. “Pretty bad, huh?” she said. “Your husband certainly did a number on you.” If Decker squinted hard enough at her face, he could see remnants of the thrashing—a greenish tinge in certain spots. “And these pictures are around six weeks old?” “Around.” She
