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Back Legacy of Lies
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

“Did you report the rape to the police?”

She guffawed. “This was 1977 in Birmingham, Alabama, and my rapist was a rich blue blood from Mountain Brook. You ever heard of that neighborhood?”

Bo had clerked a couple of summers at the Jones & Butler law firm in Birmingham, and he remembered that one of the partners had a mansion in the swanky neighborhood known as Mountain Brook. “I have.”

“What was I going to say? I could barely remember anything after I was slipped the pill. They call it the date rape drug for a reason, and that was long before that type of rape became the norm on college campuses.” She paused. “I would have lost. Sitting here right now, having been a prosecutor most of my life, I didn’t have enough evidence to get a conviction.”

“Did you ask if anyone saw him put the drug in your glass?”

“I asked my friend on our way back to Knoxville. She said she hadn’t seen anything and then asked me what happened.”

“Did you tell her?”

Helen grimaced at Bo. “No.”

“So, you kept the rape a secret all this time?”

“Yes, I did. Are you judging me?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I was just curious if you had told anyone.”

She sighed. “I’ve seen a psychiatrist in Nashville off and on over the years, and I did tell her. Thought it might help.”

“Did it?”

“No.” She paused.

Bo leaned his elbows on the table. From this close, Helen could smell his aftershave and the musty scent of the man, which was pleasant and reminded Helen of the times she had visited the barbershop when her father was getting a haircut. “General, thank you for sharing this with me. If you don’t mind me asking, has anything ever helped to make you feel better about what happened to you?”

She pondered the question and the man who was asking it. Bocephus Haynes had witnessed a brutal murder when he was five years old. He’d been beaten and kicked and abused by the men who had perpetuated this race crime. As an adult, he’d seen his wife gunned down by an assassin’s bullet and had been covered with her blood when she was pronounced. He’d also learned truths about his own background and heritage that would make most people go insane. This man, her attorney, knew pain. He rode in the cockpit with it. He bathed in it every morning and night. She touched his hand.