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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

He took in a deep breath of the fresh farm air and hung his head. “Professor, I thought living out here would be the perfect compromise. Hazel Green is almost halfway between Pulaski and Huntsville. I really thought it would work.” He paused and swallowed hard. “But it hasn’t. I’m stuck.” He gave his head a jerk. “The General is right. I guess I’m scared of being me again. When I start being me, people get hurt. People that I love.” He felt heat behind his eyes. “Now it seems like all the people I care about are either dead or gone.”

Again, Bo felt his hand being licked, and he leaned down and ruffled Lee Roy’s head. “I’m lost, Professor.” He sighed. “And I don’t have the first clue as to what to do. But one thing’s for sure . . .” He straightened himself. Then he kissed his hand and gently rested it on the grave.

“I’m not going to find my way out here.”

20

20

Helen moved her eyes around the holding cell and breathed in the stale scent of incarceration. She sat at the same metal desk where countless accused criminals had waited to be charged, tried, and sentenced. The five-foot-by-seven-foot box had three yellow cinder block walls and one glass partition, behind which Helen figured that Sheriff Hank Springfield and perhaps several of his deputies were watching her. She extended the middle finger of her right hand toward the glass wall. Then she gazed across the concrete floor of the cell until her eyes reached the sliding steel door with its small Plexiglas window. She could see the reflection of her face, but mercifully that was all she could make out. She wasn’t sure she could stomach the sight of herself in the orange jumpsuit of a pretrial detainee.

A shadow appeared in the window, and Helen felt her body tense. Then she heard the swooshing sound of the door sliding open. Two men entered the cell.

Sheriff Hank Springfield had a grim look on his face. His eyes appeared red from lack of sleep, and the top two buttons of his khaki uniform shirt were unbuttoned, revealing his white undershirt. He had a day’s growth of beard, and he rubbed his whiskers as he stepped to his left so that the other man could enter. Helen shot to her feet when she recognized him.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Her eyes darted to the sheriff.

Hank held out his palms and was about to say something when the other man’s voice cut him off.

“Judge Page has appointed me as acting district attorney general in light of your . . . predicament, Helen.” Reginald “Sack” Glover’s high-pitched southern drawl reverberated off the cinder block walls. Helen cringed at the sound.

“You?” Helen spat the question.