The Conviction by Robert Dugoni Read Free Book Online

tip of his nose before lowering his head, licking his finger and flipping pages, reading.
    T.J. wobbled, put a hand on the table to momentarily steady himself, then collapsed into one of the burgundy leather chairs. The officer started forward, but Jake grabbed T.J.’s elbow, speaking into his ear. “Get up,” he said.
    T.J. reluctantly rose.
    “Hold on to the edge of the table,” Jake whispered, keeping a hand on T.J.’s elbow. When he looked up, the judge was staring at him but resumed reading. For the next few minutes, the only sound in the courtroom was the ticking of a grandfather clock mounted on the wall. When he had finished the judge let the pages drop, removed his reading glasses, and sat back, rocking with his elbow propped on the chair arm, his index and middle finger extended to his temple. He considered Jake and T.J. for what seemed like forever, the squeaking chair blending with the sound of the ticking clock. A red velvet curtain hanging from a ceiling curtain rod framed the judge between two arched windows that admitted enough morning light to make the artificial gas lamps hanging from the ornate ceiling unnecessary.
    “It sounds like you boys had yourself quite a night last night,” he said.
    H IGHWAY 89
W INCHESTER C OUNTY , C ALIFORNIA
    Sloane sat in the passenger seat with one hand gripping the handle above the window as Tom Molia punched the accelerator and the tires squealed, fighting to grip the asphalt. Sloane shoved his feetinto the floor mat each time Molia passed a car with seemingly too little space before the next blind hill or turn.
    The store owner didn’t have the full story, or didn’t want to give it, but the facts he did provide were more than enough for Sloane to fill in the blanks. Jake’s sudden change in attitude after dinner had been a ploy to use a fake driver’s license to buy beer and cigarettes. The man refused and confiscated the license. This apparently led to a confrontation, with the man forcibly removing Jake from the store. Sometime later that night, Jake broke into the store to retrieve his license and in the process he decided to take a six-pack of beer and a fifth of vodka. What Jake didn’t know was that apparently every store in Truluck had been wired with a silent alarm. What was less clear was T.J.’s role in the affair. According to the store owner T.J. had been intent to buy candy and had tried to convince Jake to leave, which meant T.J. had likely been an unwitting participant. Why the boy had gone back to the store with Jake, however, remained an unanswered question.
    Molia approached the bumper of a minivan, veered left into the oncoming lane, but had to brake and return when a car crested a hill in the opposite direction. Though his stomach was in his throat, Sloane wasn’t about to tell Molia to slow down. He had a bad feeling, and for reasons that went beyond the obvious. Something about the tone of the store owner’s voice when he referred to “Judge Earl” had set off bells and whistles.
    A short blast of a police siren drew both their attention. Sloane turned to see flashing lights atop a blue and gray Mustang.
    “Damn! Where the hell was he hiding?”
    “Didn’t see him,” Sloane said.
    Molia drove onto a rare patch of dirt and gravel. “I’ll handle this.” He pulled out the card that identified him as a West Virginia police detective from his wallet and pushed open the door. The amplified voice greeted him instantly.
    “Return to your vehicle. Now.”
    Molia held up his identification. He had not brought his badge or his gun. He got one step farther.
    “Sir, I repeat. Return to your vehicle now.”
    Molia slid back in, swearing under his breath. “It’s always the young ones who want to act like the bull screw moose.”
    When the officer did not immediately approach, Sloane looked back again. “What’s he waiting for?”
    “He’s probably calling in the license plate to find out if there are any outstanding warrants. Some