The Guardians: The explosive new thriller from international bestseller John Grisham by John Grisham Read Free Book Online Page B

row?”
    “Great question, and you’re asking me to get inside her mind.”
    “Oh, please don’t go there. She’s crazy as hell.”
    We both have a good laugh. He stands and stretches and asks, “How long you staying today, Post?”
    “Three hours.”
    “Hallelujah. You know something, Post? My cell is six feet by ten, just about the same size as this little shithole we’re in now. My cellie is a white boy from downstate. Drugs. Not a bad kid, not a bad cellie, but can you imagine spending ten hours a day living with another human in a cage?”
    “No.”
    “ ’Course, we ain’t said a word to each other in over a year.”
    “Why not?”
    “Can’t stand each other. Nothing against white folks, Post, but there are a lot of differences, you know? I listen to Motown, he likes that country crap. My bunk is neat as a pin. He’s a slob. I don’t touch drugs. He’s stoned half the time. Enough of this, Post. Sorry to bring it up. I hate whiners. I’m so glad you’re here, Post. You have no idea.”
    “I’m honored to be your lawyer, Quincy.”
    “But why? You don’t make much money, do you? I mean, you can’t make much representing people like me.”
    “We haven’t really discussed fees, have we?”
    “Send me a bill. Then you can sue me.”
    We laugh and he sits down, the phone cradled in his neck. “Seriously, who pays you?”
    “I work for a nonprofit and, no, I don’t make much. But I’m not in it for the money.”
    “God bless you, Post.”
    “Diana Russo testified that on at least two occasions you went to their office and threatened Keith. True?”
    “No. I was in his office several times during my divorce but stopped going when the case was over. When he wouldn’t talk to me on the phone, I went to the office one time, and, hell yes, I was thinking about taking a baseball bat and beating his brains out. But the little receptionist out front said he wasn’t in, said he was in court. It was a lie because his car, a fancy black Jaguar, was parked behind the office. I knew she was lying and I started to make a scene, but didn’t. I bit my tongue and left, never went back. I swear that’s the truth, Post. I swear. Diana lied, like everybody else.”
    “She testified that you called their home several times and threatened him.”
    “More lies. Phone calls leave a trail, Post. I ain’t that stupid. My lawyer, Tyler Townsend, tried to get the records from the phone company, but Diana blocked him. He tried to get a subpoena but we ran out of time during the trial. After I was convicted, the judge wouldn’t approve a subpoena. We never got those records. By the way, have you talked to Tyler?”
    “No, but he’s on the list. We know where he is.”
    “Good dude, Post, a real good dude. That young man believed me and fought like hell, a real bulldog. I know you lawyers get a bad rap, but he was a good one.”
    “Any contact with him?”
    “Not anymore, it’s been too long. We wrote letters for years, even after he quit the law. He told me once in a letter that my case broke his spirit. He knew I was innocent, and when he lost my case he lost faith in the system. Said he couldn’t be a part of it. He stopped by about ten years ago and it was a blessing to see him, but it also brought back bad memories. He actually cried when he saw me, Post.”
    “Did he have a theory about the real killer?”
    He lowers the phone and looks at the ceiling, as if the question is too involved. He raises it again and asks, “You trust these phones, Post?”
    It’s against the law for the prison to eavesdrop on confidential talks between a lawyer and his client, but it happens. I shake my head. No.
    “Neither do I,” he says. “But my letters to you are safe, right?”
    “Right.” A prison cannot open mail related to legal matters, and it has been my experience that they don’t try. It’s too easy to notice if mail has been tampered with.
    Quincy uses sign language to indicate he will put it in