The Scarecrow by Michael Connelly Read Free Book Online

of having a Jewish lawyer.
    “Well, I’ll be talking to Mr. Meyer about all of this. Sometimes, Mrs. Sessums, the newspaper can do what nobody else can
     do. If I tell the world that Alonzo Winslow is innocent, then the world pays attention. With lawyers that’s not always the
     case, because they’re always saying their clients are innocent—whether they really think it or not. Like the boy who cried
     wolf. They say it so much that when they actually do have a client who’s innocent, nobody believes them.”
    She looked at me quizzically and I thought she either was confused or thought she was being conned. I tried to keep things
     moving so her mind wouldn’t settle on any given thing I had said.
    “Mrs. Sessums, if I’m going to investigate this I am going to need you to call Mr. Meyer and ask him to cooperate with me.
     I’ll need to look at the court file and all the discovery.”
    “He ain’t discovered nothin’ so far. He just go roun’ tellin’ everybody to sit tight, is all.”
    “By ‘discovery’ I mean the legal term. The state—that’s the prosecutor—has to turn all their paperwork and evidence over to
     the defense for viewing. I’ll need to see it all if I’m going to work on getting Alonzo out.”
    Now she appeared not to be paying attention to what I had said. From the clothes basket she slowly raised her hand. She was
     holding a tiny pair of bright red panties. She held them away from her body like she was holding the tail of a dead rat.
    “Look at this stupid girl. She don’ know who she playin’ with. Hidin’ her red underneath. She a fool an’ a half she think
     she get away wi’ that.”
    She walked over to the corner of the room, used her foot to press a pedal that opened a trash can and dropped the dead rat
     inside. I nodded as though I approved and tried to get back on track.
    “Mrs. Sessums, did you understand what I said about the discovery? I’m going to—”
    “But how you going to say my Zo’s innocent when all yo facts come from the po-po and they lie like the serpent in the tree?”
    It took me a moment to respond as I considered her use of language and the juxtaposition of common street slang and religious
     reference.
    “I’m going to gather all the facts for myself and make my own judgment,” I said. “When I wrote that story last week, I was
     saying what the police said. Now I am going to find out for myself. If your Zo’s innocent I will know it. And I’ll write it.
     When I write it, the story will get him out.”
    “Okay, then. Good. The Lord will help you bring my boy home.”
    “But I’m going to need your help, too, Wanda.”
    I dropped into first-name mode now. It was time to let her think she was going to be part of this.
    “When it comes to my Zo, I’m always ready to help,” she said. “Good,” I said.
    “Let me tell you what I want you to do.”

THREE: The Farm

    C arver was in his office with the door closed. He was humming to himself and intently watching the cameras, his screens set
     in multiplex mode—thirty-six views on each. He was able to scan all of the cameras, even the angles nobody knew about. With
     a flick of his finger on the heat pad, he drew one camera angle into full screen on the middle plasma.
    Geneva was behind the counter, reading a paperback novel. He tightened the focus, attempting to see what she was reading.
     He couldn’t see the title but he could make out the author’s name at the top of the page. Janet Evanovich. He knew she had
     read several books by this writer. He often saw her smiling to herself as she read.
    This was good information to know. He would go to a bookstore and pick up a copy of an Evanovich book. He would make sure
     Geneva saw it in his bag when he walked through reception. It could be an ice-breaker that could lead to conversation and
     maybe more.
    He remotely moved the lens and saw that Geneva’s purse was open on the floor next to her chair. He pulled in tight and saw