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Back Legacy of Lies Save as PDF
Chapters (88)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  3. DEDICATION
  4. CONTENTS
  5. PART ONE
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. PART TWO
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. PART THREE
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. 59
  67. PART FOUR
  68. 60
  69. 61
  70. 62
  71. 63
  72. 64
  73. 65
  74. 66
  75. 67
  76. 68
  77. 69
  78. 70
  79. 71
  80. 72
  81. 73
  82. 74
  83. 75
  84. 76
  85. 77
  86. EPILOGUE
  87. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  88. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

“Solving the problem.”

“No,” Butch whispered.

“Yes.” The voice and the barrel of the gun remained steady. “I’m sorry, but this is the only way.”

Butch Renfroe felt tears forming in his eyes. He leaned back against the couch and took a final sip of whiskey. On the TV, two players scrambled for a loose ball, and the referee blew the whistle. Butch thought of his mother and how unsurprised she would be at this end for him. All of that accumulated waste packaged into one perfect and fitting finale. “Just get on with it,” Butch finally said.

He raised his glass again, but it never touched his lips.

10

10

Helen’s body tingled with adrenaline as the twelve jurors who would decide the fate of Michael Zannick took their seats. She let out a deep breath, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. She was always amped for the beginning of a trial, but today was different.

Helen hadn’t slept a wink. She’d sat in the recliner in the den of her home and tried to think through all the various scenarios. Her instincts, which normally were tried and true, had failed her. Finally, as the sun began to rise, she’d showered, gotten dressed, and drunk several cups of coffee, but she’d been unable to eat anything. She’d driven to work, fully expecting officers to be waiting on her when she arrived, but they weren’t. Even so, throughout jury selection, Helen had found herself distracted every time the double doors to the courtroom creaked open and closed, thinking each time that someone was going to come in with news about Butch.

Now it was go time. Regardless of what had happened last night or what the consequences of her actions might be, there was a rapist sitting across the courtroom from her who belonged in a prison cell.

Helen moved her eyes to the defense table, looking past Lou Horn to the defendant. Michael James Zannick wore a gray suit with a navy tie. With brown hair cut short and a slight build, nothing about the man’s appearance stood out save for a surgically repaired cleft lip that had left a faint triangle-shaped scar just under his nostrils. Zannick could have easily covered the blemish with a mustache, but he was clean shaven. As Helen gazed at the man, she thought—not for the first time—that he didn’t look like a sexual predator. Of course, neither did Ted Bundy.

As a career prosecutor, Helen knew that the most dangerous predators, like Zannick, were the ones you didn’t see coming.

As if sensing her gaze, Zannick turned his head and looked at her. His expression was blank, but after running his index finger over his scar, he winked.

Helen felt her stomach tighten into a knot, but before she could react any further, she heard Judge Page’s gravelly voice.

“General, is the state ready for opening statements?”