Scott Turow Novel Crossword Clue Novels & Stories

“Who else have you told?” “I’m not a gossip, sweetheart.” Scott had kept me inside his tinted SUV for so long that the sun had set. The full moon was rising. Scott took a good twenty minutes to ramble about the moon’s superiority and how tonight was good night for a run because he could feel it in his bones. We dropped off Ellis first at some unknown location for her to be questioned. Scott wouldn’t tell me anything about her either. His lips were sealed, and it was killing me.

The detective lowered his window but didn’t come out of his car. He grinned, “Can I help you?” He uttered playfully, acting as if he was a regular old man who got lost in the New York streets. Silas smiled cautiously, “Why are you following us, detective?” he asked. Detective Scott squinted his eyes, he understood that they already knew who he was even though he was wearing casual clothes and his car didn't have anything that yelled 'police'. Solidifying his intuition that the Hawke family, or rather, Rebecca, has a lot of connections.

I dragged my suitcase through the airport, New York's air hitting me, familiar yet foreign. A loud wolf whistle caught my attention. "Welcome back, New York's sexiest artist!" I spun around to see my best friend Clara Willow leaning against her flashy red convertible, her blonde hair catching the sunlight like spun gold. Designer sunglasses covered half her face, but couldn't hide that million-dollar smile. "Clara!" I was surprised, practically sprinting toward her. "How do you know I'm returning today?" Clara threw her arms wide for a bear hug. "Please, you think I'd let my bestie take some sketchy cab home? Grandma Margaret spilled the beans."

Julissa nodded seriously—she was genuinely curious. So Scott gave her a brief version of the story. Basically, with help from three of his friends—a private investigator, a hotel chain owner, and a tech guy—he managed to uncover a few key clues and traced them back to her. Of course, he also paid them handsomely as a thank-you for their help. When Julissa asked how much he spent, Scott refused to say. He just told her it wasn’t much—just “a little something to show appreciation.” But knowing Mr. Nichols, his “little something” was definitely not cheap.

Scott tightly gripped the steering wheel and pressed on the accelerator to follow them. He trailed behind them until they reached the entrance of The River Taste. A frown creased his face as he observed the constant stream of luxury cars arriving at the hotel. Scott wondered, 'Is there some sort of gala happening here tonight? I didn't receive any news about it.' Scott avoided eye contact and observed Caroline and Zeke exiting the car and walking toward the hotel entrance. Preparing to join them, he unfastened his seatbelt.

It was a text from an unknown number. I opened it, my hands trembling. It was a picture. A picture of me, standing in front of Eavon's car, the very same night Orion died. My face was a mask of shock and terror, and in the background, a woman with a dog was pointing at me, her mouth open in a scream. The text below the picture read: I can give you the answers you're looking for. Meet me tomorrow at the old lighthouse at midnight. Come ALONE.

My uncle Peter asked. "Not that it's any of your business but I was searching for a missing body," Scott said shrugging. "I just had a feeling about Scott when I was coming back to Beacon Hills and followed it," Stella said, there was something more behind the story but she wasn't saying anything else. "What kind of feeling?" Peter asked. "The dangerous kind" Stella answered back. "Okay, I'm sure we didn't come here for you to interrogate us," Stella rolled her eyes.

Daniel could already tell this wasn't going to end well. They crossed the street, but just as they were about to enter, something caught Scott's eye: a yellow vintage Volkswagen Beetle parked at the curb. Suddenly, too many pieces clicked into place. The captain's voice echoed in his mind: the suspect who drugged Dr. Eckart, a janitor in the building, Eddie Sullivan—drives a yellow vintage Volkswagen Beetle. "He must've seen them…" Scott muttered to himself, turning to Daniel. "Your detective. Your detective was watching them! How could he see Alexia and Howard sleeping together but not see they were drugged?!"

Scott was in the grain and oil business and had always been a law-abiding citizen of the town. How could there be tax evasion? Larry felt that there was a pair of black hands behind the scenes which was manipulating everything. Scott didn't reach him for several days in a row, he should have known something had already happened to him. By the way, there was the issue of the Mayflower Hair Salon. Who knocked him out last night? And who sent him back home? Larry calmed down a little, he looked around the crowd and felt like there was a pair of eyes in the dark silently watching him.

Paul was waiting in the living room. "Paul. It's a relief to see you here on such short notice. How was the journey?" Paul smiled. "Mr. Hunter. It was an adventure. Pleased to see you too." "Please, sit." Scott gestured to the chair. Paul sat. "Now. What's this mystery case?" "It's not a mystery." Scott leaned forward. "I needed a lawyer, and I don't trust anyone in this town" "Understood." Scott was glad he didn't have to elaborate.