The Conviction by Robert Dugoni Read Free Book Online Page A

of these guys can’t think outside the box to save their ass.”
    The digital clock on the dash changed to 8:10. Sloane looked back again and this time the driver’s door of the patrol car pushed open and the officer stepped out, pausing to fasten a Smokey the Bear hat on the crown of his head. He looked young, but then again it was difficult to tell with the hat and dark reflector sunglasses. He hitched up his utility belt as he made his way alongside the car, stopping a foot back from the lowered window.
    “License and registration, please.”
    Molia handed him his police identification. “I’m a West Virginia police detective.”
    The officer considered it. “You’re a long way from home, Detective Molia.”
    “Yes and no. I was born in Oakland. We’re up here to do a little backpacking but our sons got in some trouble last night. We’re headed over to Winchester to find out what’s going on.”
    “What kind of trouble?”
    “Not sure, exactly,” Molia said.
    “They the two boys who broke into the general store in Truluck?”
    “Listen, I know I was driving fast—”
    “Reckless is more like it,” the officer said. “You could have killed somebody, passing that close to a blind turn back there.”
    “I apologize. I’m worried about my son is all. I’ll be more careful.” Molia reached for his identification, but the officer did not hand it back. “Can we go?” he asked.
    “Go? Go where?”
    “To get our sons.”
    “I suppose so. Right after you hand me your license and registration.”
    When the officer said nothing further Molia asked, “Are you kidding?”
    “Do I look like I’m kidding?”
    Molia started to push open the car door. The officer shoved it closed. “I told you to stay in your vehicle.”
    Molia looked at Sloane before looking back to the window. “What type of treatment is this for a fellow law enforcement officer?”
    “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you on duty, Detective Molia?”
    Molia didn’t answer.
    “I don’t know how they do things in West Virginia, but here in Winchester County we have laws that all citizens are obligated to keep, and that includes driving on the right side of the road.”
    “Do you have a supervisor, Officer”—Molia paused, reading the man’s name tag—“Wade?”
    The officer stepped closer to the door, bending so that the edge of his hat made contact with the top of the door. “I sure do.”
    “What’s his name?” Molia asked.
    “Wade. Carl Wade. You’re looking at him.”
    W INCHESTER C OUNTY C OURTHOUSE
W INCHESTER , C ALIFORNIA
    Judge Boykin folded his hands on the desk and leaned over them. “Do you not feel well, son?”
    T.J. looked up. “No, sir.”
    “Well I can certainly understand why. The report here says you boys did a little drinking last night.”
    “Yes, sir,” T.J. said.
    “Would you prefer to sit down?”
    T.J. nodded.
    “Well, then, go ahead.”
    T.J. sat; Jake remained standing. Something felt wrong to him. The judge’s attitude did not seem normal.
    “What about you?” Boykin asked. “You feel sick too?”
    “No, I’m okay.”
    Boykin stared. When Jake said nothing further the judge said, “You’re okay… what?”
    “I’m okay. I don’t need to sit.”
    Boykin smiled, pushed back his chair, and stood. Jake guessed the judge was at least six feet six. “You see this robe I’m wearing, son?”
    “Yes, I see it.”
    Boykin’s lips disappeared in his beard. “Now I understand that your friend there, I’m assuming that’s Mr. Molia,” he said, mispronouncing it as “Mole-ee-a” instead of “Mol-ya.” “Am I right?”
    Jake nodded.
    “I’m assuming that maybe Mr. Molia doesn’t understand court procedure, but the file I have in front of me indicates you are all too familiar with it, Mr. Carter.” Boykin let the ticking of the grandfather clock fill a brief silence. “So you should know that you need to address me as ‘Your Honor.’”
    “Yes, Your Honor,” Jake said.
    “Let’s try