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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

“We wish,” Sack said, not joining in the other man’s revelry.

“Who then?”

“Bocephus Haynes,” Sack said.

Lou’s eyes narrowed, and he took a long pull off the bottle. Then he peered up at Sack. Some of the alcohol-induced redness in the man’s cheeks had evaporated. “I thought he moved away.”

“He’s back.”

22

22

Bo gazed at the wooden boards that covered the front door of his law office. Almost three years ago, after the Tennessee State Bar had suspended him the first time, he had nailed the planks over the entrance. And though he owned the building, he hadn’t tried to lease the space to another lawyer or vendor since barricading the place.

He wondered if part of him always figured he’d come back.

Bo ran his hand over the dusty shingle that hung to the side of the door. Despite all the time that had passed, the words on the sign were still visible.

BOCEPHUS HAYNES, ATTORNEY AT LAW.

He let his hand drop to his side and gazed up First Street. It was seven o’clock in the evening, and the sun was setting bright orange above and to the west of the ancient clock that adorned the top of the Giles County Courthouse. Bo let out a deep breath and took in the scene, which he had to admit was beautiful. Then he let his eyes wander past the majestic courthouse—where he’d tried countless cases over the past two decades—to the streets, restaurants, and stores that he knew by heart.

Was it good to be back? He wasn’t sure. Bo had a lot of history in Pulaski, and much of it was bad. But he had to admit that it felt good to be working again. To be doing something, anything, besides feeling sorry for himself.

“Wide ass open,” Bo said out loud, chuckling to himself. Those three words had been his mantra during his legal career, and he’d been going that speed ever since waking up this morning at the foot of the Professor’s grave. After walking the mile back to the house with Lee Roy at his heels, he’d showered, shaved, and eaten a quick breakfast of cereal and coffee. Since his head had been pounding with a hangover, he’d popped three Aleve as well. Once he’d felt half-alive again, he’d hitched a ride into town with the farmer who leased the McMurtrie land. The man needed to pick up some equipment and supplies from CT Garvin’s Feed and Seed, and downtown was close by. Bo sighed with relief when he saw that his Sequoia hadn’t been towed but remained parked in the same lot where he’d left it the night before. After thanking the farmer and shaking his hand, Bo drove to Glenn’s Flower Shop on Bob Wallace, bought an orchid, and headed to another graveyard.