Between Black and White (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #2)(66)

“Abort,” George said, the words coming out just above a whisper. Martha Booher scooted to the edge of the bed and put her hands on George’s belt buckle. Slowly, she undid the loop. “What are you . . . ?” he started to protest, but he felt the cold steel of Bone’s pistol on his forehead.”

“Just leave Martha be and answer the question, Doc,” Bone said as Martha Booher undid George’s belt and the button on his pants.

“I . . . I . . .” George fumbled for the words as his pants and underwear dropped to the floor.

Martha grabbed hold of George’s stiffening penis, and Curtis closed his eyes, now dizzy.

“Thank you so much for working me in at lunch today, Dr. Curtis. I’m sorry I couldn’t pay, but I hope this will in some way make up for it.”

As the feel of Martha’s fingers was replaced by her mouth, moist and wet as it moved back and forth, George’s knees became weak, and Martha had him sit on the bed as she continued her work.

“Dr. Curtis, is this how you treat all your patients who don’t have insurance?” she asked.

George’s eyes shot open at the sound of the word “insurance,” and the sight in front of him almost made him puke. Bone continued to hold the gun, but in his other hand was a small phone with the camera lens pointed right at the doctor.

“No!” George shot up off the bed, but Bone stepped forward and pressed the gun again into the doctor’s forehead. Bone smiled and began talking in a television news anchor voice.

“Dr. George Curtis, longtime family physician in Pulaski, Tennessee was arrested today on charges of assault and battery and third-degree rape as a tape surfaced of him trading medical services for sexual favors. Dr. Curtis is under investigation by the Tennessee Board of Medical Examiners, and it is believed that he may lose his medical license. His reputation, once pristine, is now beyond repair.”

“You son of a bitch,” George said as Martha walked back into the bathroom and closed the door.

“And then some,” Bone said. “Now, I want you to tell me how I can get close enough to Bocephus Haynes to put a bullet in his brain.”

“It’s impossible,” George managed, fumbling for his underwear and his pants. “You said it yourself.”

“Think, Doc. Come on. How can I get close to Haynes and not be seen?”

George blinked when it hit him, and Bone smiled. “You already know,” George said.

“That I do, Doc. It came to me when I was listening to the news about the trial on the way here. But I wanted you to come to it on your own.”

“You can get close, and you’ll never be seen. It’s—”

“Perfect,” Bone said, completing the thought. “However, I will need one thing from you to make it work.”

“I’ll get it,” George said. “I’ll give it to you in return for the video you just recorded.”

“Deal,” Bone said, extending his hand.

George Curtis’s body trembled with a mixture of fear and relief, but he managed to shake Bone’s hand. “Deal.”





48


By the time the Giles County Courthouse opened for business at 8:00 a.m. Monday morning, the square was covered in white. At least three hundred members of the Ku Klux Klan surrounded the courthouse, all wearing white robes and hoods. Many held signs saying “Justice for Andy Walton,” or the shortened “Justice.”

Inside Reeves Drug Store, Emma Jean Waites could hardly believe her eyes. She had lived in Pulaski all her life, long enough to have seen Klan rallies that were organized and well attended. Most of those rallies had centered around some kind of Confederate or Klan tradition. For a few years there was one on General Nathan Bedford Forrest’s birthday in July. Forrest had been the first Grand Wizard of the Klan. In other years the Klan had marched on General Robert E. Lee’s birthday in January. Emma Jean couldn’t remember a time the Klan had rallied in front of the courthouse during a trial. If they had, it was nothing like this.

“Kinda reminds me of that Grisham book A Time to Kill,” she said out loud.

“Me too,” a voice came from beside her. “At least they’re not chanting ‘Fry Bo.’”

Emma Jean turned to the voice. “Why hi there, Dabsey. Where’s Dr. Curtis today?”

“He’s not seeing patients this week, so he sent me to drop off the prescriptions. I think he wanted to avoid this circus too.”

Emma Jean nodded and turned back to the window. “Don’t blame him. It’s got to be hard. Is he going to watch the trial?”

Dabsey shook her head. “Can’t. He’s been subpoenaed as a witness. Witnesses are excluded from the courtroom.”

“Really?” Emma Jean asked, again turning to look at Dabsey. For the first time Emma Jean noticed that Dabsey appeared distressed about something. Her brow was furrowed, and she seemed lost in thought.

“Yep,” Dabsey said, still watching the Klansmen through the window.

“Hey, you OK, girl?” Emma Jean asked. “You look pale.”

“Fine,” Dabsey said. “Just a little spooked by this. Normally, when the Klan does their marches I try to stay out of downtown.”

“We all do,” Emma Jean agreed. “But those rallies are usually one-day ordeals. This thing may last a week. We can’t just shut the town down for a week.”