The Good Daughter (The Good Daughter #1) - Karin Slaughter Page 0,113

being second position in the relay thirty years ago?”

Charlie said, “There’s more about Huck.”

“Okay.”

Charlie looked away. Inexplicably, tears rimmed her eyes.

“Charlie?” Sam felt her own tears start to well. She could never abide seeing her sister in distress. “What is it?”

Charlie looked down at her hands. She cleared her throat. “I think Huck took the murder weapon from the scene.”

“What?” Sam’s voice went up in alarm. “How?”

“It’s just a feeling. The GBI asked me about—”

“Wait, the Georgia Bureau of Investigation interviewed you?”

“I’m a witness.”

“Did you have a lawyer?”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“Charlie—”

“I know, I have a fool for a client. Don’t worry. I didn’t say anything stupid.”

Sam did not argue the antithetical. “The GBI asked you if you knew where the murder weapon was?”

“In a roundabout way. The agent was good at playing her cards close to her chest. The weapon was a revolver, probably a six-shot. And then later, when I talked to Huck on the phone, he said they had asked him the same thing, only this time, it was the FBI asking, too: ‘When did you last see the gun? Who had it? What happened to it?’ Except I got the feeling that Huck had taken the gun. Just a feeling. Which I couldn’t tell Dad, because if Dad found out, he would have Huck arrested. And I know he should be arrested, but he was trying to do the right thing, and with the FBI involved we’re talking felony and …” She let out a heavy sigh. “That’s it.”

There were so many red flags that Sam couldn’t keep up with all of them. “Charlotte, you cannot ever again speak with Mason Huckabee, on the phone or otherwise.”

“I know that.” Charlie hung her heels over the stair, stretching her calves, balancing herself on her two good legs. “Before you say it, I told Huck not to try to see me or call me, and to get a good lawyer.”

Sam stared out at the parking lot. The sheriff’s cruisers. The police cars. The crime scene vans. The Town Cars. This was what Rusty was up against, and now Charlie had managed to drag herself along for the ride.

Charlie asked, “Ready?”

“Can you give me a moment to compose myself?”

Rather than verbalizing her answer, Charlie nodded.

Charlie seldom just nodded. Like Rusty, she could never resist the urge to speak, to explain the nod, to expound upon the up and down movement of her head.

Sam was about to ask her what the hell else she was hiding when Charlie said, “What’s Lenore doing here?”

Sam watched a red sedan make a quick turn into the parking lot. The sun glinted off the windshield as the car raced towards them. There was another sharp turn, then the tires skidded to a stop.

The window rolled down. Lenore waved for them to hurry. “The arraignment is scheduled to start at three.”

“Motherfuck, that gives us an hour and a half, tops.” Charlie quickly helped Sam down the stairs. “Who’s the judge?”

“Lyman. He said he moved it up to avoid the press, but half of them are already lining up for seats.” She motioned for them to get in the car. “He also appointed Carter Grail to stand in for Rusty.”

“Shit, he’ll hang Kelly himself.” Charlie pulled open the rear door. She told Lenore, “Take Sam. I’ll try to keep Grail away from Kelly and find out what the hell is going on. It’s faster if I run.”

Sam said, “Faster for—”

Charlie was gone.

“Grail’s got a big mouth,” Lenore said. “If Kelly talks to him, he’ll spill to whoever listens.”

“I’m sure that has nothing to do with why the judge appointed him.” Sam had no choice but to get into Lenore’s car. The courthouse, a large, domed building, was directly across from the police station, but the one-way street made the driving route more circuitous. Because of Sam’s limited mobility, they would have to go up to the red light, then drive around the courthouse, then turn onto the street again.

Sam watched Charlie dart past a truck and leap over a concrete curb. She ran beautifully; arms tucked, head straight, shoulders back.

Sam had to look away.

She told Lenore, “This is a dirty trick. The hearing was scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

“Lyman does whatever he wants.” Lenore caught her eye in the mirror. “Cons call Carter ‘the Holy Grail.’ If he drinks before your trial, you’re likely to get life.”

“It’s a chalice, actually. In Christian tradition.”

“I’ll send Indiana Jones a telegram.” Lenore turned out of the parking lot.

Sam watched Charlie running across