The Spiked Heel

Griff watched. He was suddenly trembling again, but not with fear this time. With sudden clarity he realized that there’d never been anything to fear, and the knowledge amused him. He began laughing, an uncontrolled laughter that was a mixture of relief and happiness and amazement and triumph. But most of all, it was a laugh of self-respect because it was the laugh of a healthy man.

And when his laughter died, he went to his car and backed it around so that it was pointed toward the opening in the gate. His headlights swept the empty lot.

McQuade was gone.

The sky behind the JULIEN KAHN, Fashion Shoes, sign was studded with stars. He looked at the sign, and the stars, and he threw a fast salute as he drove out of the lot.