Blood Money Read Free Page B

Sydney would remain incarcerated until then. Corso quickly explained to her viewers that the maximum sentence for the conviction on the lesser count was one year. Because Sydney had already spent three years behind bars awaiting trial, she would likely serve no additional time.
    “Shot Mom will be free and back to her wicked ways in a week,” said Corso. Dubbing her “Shot Mom”—a play on “shot girl” and “hot mom”—was one of the signature devices that Corso had used throughout the trial to express her contempt for Sydney Bennett.
    Corso checked with one of the BNN reporters on the scene: “Heather, what’s the reaction outside the courthouse?”
    “Faith, it is way beyond disappointment. People here are genuinely heartbroken. I’ve spoken to a group of mothers who traveled all the way from Arizona, college students from New Orleans, retirees from New York. All of them filled with a sickening sense that there has been no justice for Emma.”
    Theo suddenly sensed an echo. He looked up from his iPhone and realized that he wasn’t just hearing the roving reporter’s voice on television through his earbuds. Heather Brown and the BNN cameraman were standing just fifteen feet away from him. She was suddenly coming his way, speaking into her microphone.
    “Faith, let me see if I can get a word with the man who brought defense lawyer Jack Swyteck to the courthouse today. Sir!”
    Theo froze. “Me?”
    “Yes, can I have a quick word with you, please?”
    Being six feet six and black in this crowd had definitely proved to be a liability. “You must have me confused with someone else.”
    “Wait a second, I know that man,” said Corso, and Theo could hear her in his earbuds. “Viewers may recall that, a few years back, I did a BNN special investigative report on capital punishment, and one case we featured told the story of how Jack Swyteck used his family name to pull strings and get Theo Knight off Florida’s death row.”
    If by “pull strings” you mean DNA evidence . . .
    “Heather, ask Mr. Knight if he—”
    “Gotta go,” said Theo as he broke away.
    “Mr. Knight!”
    Theo was off like a running back. It had taken Jack four years to prove Theo’s innocence. Twice he’d come so close to the electric chair that they’d served him a last meal, sent him to the prison barber, and shaved his head and ankles for placement of the electrodes. Theo had nothing to prove to anyone—ever again.
    “Mr. Knight, please!”
    The reporter tried to follow, but the crowd closed around her and the cameraman. Theo pushed all the way to the street in front of the courthouse, past clusters of angry onlookers, around several other reporters who were delivering up-to-the-minute reports. His cell rang, and he made the mistake of answering. It was Faith Corso.
    “Mr. Knight, where will Shot Mom go from here?”
    Theo did a double take. “Are we on the air? And how did you get my number?”
    “There’s an app for that. Would you answer my question, please?”
    “I have no idea where Sydney is going.”
    “You’re the defense team’s driver, are you not?”
    “No.”
    “Apparently you’re about as truthful as Shot Mom. We caught you on camera driving Jack Swyteck to the courthouse today.”
    “That doesn’t make me his driver, Miss Daisy.” The film reference was probably lost on her, but Morgan Freeman was one of Theo’s favorites. “Are we on the air or not?” he asked.
    She wouldn’t answer. “When Shot Mom is released, will you be the one driving her wherever she plans to go?”
    “I got nothin’ to say about that.”
    “Nothing at all?”
    “Nope.”
    “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t that the same thing you told police when they found a convenience-store clerk dead on the floor and your hands in the cash register?”
    Theo held his tongue. “I’m hanging up now.”
    “No, wait! People have a right to know. Where will you be taking Shot Mom? Hollywood for a movie? New York for