Ernest Hill

Cry Me A River


Скачать книгу

       Also by Ernest Hill

       Family Ties A Person of Interest It’s All About the Moon When the Sun Ain’t Shining

      Published by Dafina Books

      Cry Me

      a River

      ERNEST HILL

      

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

      119 West 40th Street

      New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2003 by Ernest Hill

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

      If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

      All Kensington Titles, Imprints and Distributed Lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotions, premiums, fund-raising, educational or institutional use. Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington special sales manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018, attn: Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

      Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

      eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6858-7

      eISBN-10: 0-7582-6858-0

      First hardcover printing: April 2003

      First trade paperback printing: May 2004

      First mass market printing: January 2011

      10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

      Printed in the United States of America

       For my father, Charley Hill Jr. The ultimate dad

      Contents

      Also by Ernest Hill

      Acknowledgment

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Chapter 31

       Chapter 32

       Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Chapter 35

       Chapter 36

       Chapter 37

       Chapter 38

       A READING GROUP GUIDE

       DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 1

       Chapter 2

       Acknowledgment

      Thanks to my agent, Frank Weimann;

      my editor, Karen Thomas;

      my family and friends;

      and all of the dedicated souls who make

      up the Kensington family.

       Chapter 1

      Dazed and confused, Tyrone backed the truck out of the yard, pulled the lever into drive, depressed the accelerator, and sped toward the main highway. As the truck raced past the lake, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and stared into the twilight. Though his eyes were clear and his vision was unobstructed, he saw nothing. Not the beautiful, orange July sun that had risen just above the east bank. Not the flock of wild birds dancing in the treetops. Not the stand of fresh honeysuckle that ran parallel to the still blue water and decorated the roadside well past the point at which he turned onto the highway leading into Brownsville.

      No, he did not see because he could not see. And he could not see because he was remembering the sound of the soft leather soles of his sister’s slippers sliding across the surface of his mother’s old wooden porch. He was hearing again the soft, steady tapping of her bare knuckles against his closed bedroom door. He was seeing the pain in her wide, bloodshot eyes just before she asked the question: “You heard about your son?”

      He had suspected that something was wrong even before she told him. He did not know why. Maybe it was the way she had averted her eyes before she spoke. Or the way she wrung her fingers in her hand. Or the way she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Or maybe it was because in forty years of living he had learned that good news never came this early in the morning.

      “No,” he said, alarmed but trying not to think the worst. “What about him?”

      “He killed a white gal,” she said, immediately dropping her gaze again before adding, “So the law say.”

      The meaning behind her words was clear. The impact instantaneous. He felt his knees buckle. His head became light. He opened his mouth to speak, but shock rendered him silent.

      A space of time passed in which he tried to listen to her, but his mind could not focus. Too many thoughts came too quickly. She said a lot of things, but all he could remember was … “He killed her … He raped her … And they done set the date…. He gone die in eight days.”

      A thousand times he had driven this route. Ten miles through the swamp … a left at the traffic light… right onto Hospital Road … a double curve … a stop sign … a sharp right turn … a half mile north on Highway 17… left across the tracks … a short drive through the projects …