Silent Son by Gallatin Warfield Read Free Book Online

angrily. “That’s what Brown did after he beat me.”
    King surveyed the truck, then studied Miller. “Where are your injuries?”
    Roscoe frowned. “Huh?”
    “You said you got beat. Where are your bruises?”
    Roscoe raised his tattooed arms. “Here somewhere,” he said.
    King seized both of Roscoe’s wrists. “I don’t see any,” he said. “Are you sure he
hit
you?”
    Miller shuffled his feet. “Yeah.”
    King turned the wrists loose. “Don’t bullshit me, Roscoe. If Brown wanted to hurt you, there’d be some damage.”
    “He did, no shit. I want you to file charges.”
    “Okay,” King said. “We can do that. It’ll be uphill, but we can do it. Too bad you don’t have any marks.”
    “He took pictures,” Roscoe said suddenly.
    “What?”
    “Photographed me. All over.”
    King let out a sigh. “They can
prove
you weren’t hurt when you came in. Your word isn’t going to cut it.”
    Miller blinked, and leaned back against his truck. “He did hit me…”
    King crossed his arms. “Sorry, Roscoe…”
    “What about my window?” The young tough did not want to quit.
    “We may be able to do something with that,” King replied. “Get me an estimate, and I’ll draft up a claim. Now, tell me about
     the interrogation. Did you give a statement?”
    “I didn’t tell them nuthin’,” Roscoe said. “I didn’t
do
nuthin’, so there was nuthin’ to tell.”
    King nodded. “That’s good.”
    “Nuthin’ to tell,” Roscoe repeated. “But they’re after me…”
    King’s expression turned introspective. “Not to worry. They screwed up by hassling you. There was no legitimate reason to
     bring you in, and no probable cause to take the shotgun shells. If you’re ever charged,
nothing
they’ve got so far can come into evidence.”
    Miller stepped away from the truck and put his head close to King’s. “So I got nuthin’ to worry about…”
    The defense attorney gave him a piercing look. “I wouldn’t say that. Two people were killed and the prosecutor’s son was injured.
     You really think they’re gonna dog it on the investigation?”
    Roscoe paled. “Uh, how is the boy? How’s he doin’?”
    King hesitated. It wasn’t clear where Roscoe’s concern was coming from. “He’ll pull through, but his head may be messed up
     for a while.”
    “Huh?” Roscoe’s interest was still intense.
    “He can’t remember what happened.”
    Roscoe sighed. “But he’s gonna live?”
    “Yeah,” King replied. “He’s gonna live.
    Miller stopped talking. There was something very serious on his mind. “You’re gonna represent me, right?” he finally said.
    King frowned. “On what?”
    “The case. If they try to pin it on me?”
    King’s frown intensified. “Murders are expensive, Roscoe. I don’t think you can afford the fee.”
    Roscoe smiled. “That ain’t gonna be a problem.”
    “No?” King was surprised. He knew Miller usually struggled to scrape together the fee for a minor assault.
    “No,” Roscoe said resolutely. “In a couple of days I’m gonna have plenty of money, and then all you have to do is name your
     price.”
    Gardner and Jennifer lay in the four-poster bed in Gardner’s town house bedroom. Snug beneath a quilted blanket, they had
     assumed a spoon position with Jennifer’s slim body nestled behind Gardner’s. His breath was forced, the rhythm of exhaustion.
     She held him across the shoulder and pressed her face into his neck.
    Ellen Fahrnam had really shaken him up. “I can’t run this investigation,” he’d told her after the teacher left. “My objectivity
     is shot. I can’t think straight…”
    “What are you going to do?” she had asked.
    “What the hell
can
I do? Somebody’s got to get this thing going. Before that maniac kills again…”
    “What about me?” It just popped out. She had given it no thought, but it was a logical answer. She could captain the case.
     Gardner had trained her to be a pro. She had the basic moves down