Scott Turow Novels & Stories

Greg said as he found his way to Scott's table and sat down on it. "And well, I'm just here to hear from you yourself" Greg said as he took a pen from Scott's table. "Ask away" Scott said, still not looking at Greg. "Why did my secretary come out if your car today?" Greg asked making Scott look at him. "Is it a crime?" Scott said feigning ignorance. "It's not. I was just wondering why the cold Scott Anderson would give a mere secretary a ride. When he doesn't even give the anyone else rides" Greg said as he played with the pen.

Like a hunter seeing another predator’s tracks in the snow. “Because from what I can see,” he went on, voice lower now, stripped of its usual bite, “the person behind this isn’t someone you want to play games with.” I felt something ugly stir in my stomach. “You don’t even know who it is,” I said, forcing a scoff that didn’t quite land. Scott held my gaze. “Exactly.” The room went very still. “If someone of my expertise can’t even trace the message,” he continued, not breaking eye contact, “then whoever did this is operating on a level most people don’t even realize exists.”

“What the habit have I done? Scott Nollax. 16 years old teenager stood over the body of a homeless woman in the middle of an empty street in Rochester, New York. I’m sorry I’m so sorry”. The feigner was covered in the woman's blood from his mouth to his chest. Sirens echoed from behind him as police cars drove from a distance. “No…. No……No” Scott ran from the Police cars, zooming away at superhuman speed. The air rushing through his blue hair with a silver highlighter in it.

Scott Tokyo, Japan Scott placed the phone on the bedside table and raised his head back as he stared up at the ceiling. He sighed, disappointed he wasn’t involved in the operation with James and Matt back in Las Vegas. He’d love to take down one or two or maybe ten or twenty of the Mexican gang. How he wished he was there. Yet again…

Chapter 35 (The set up; Arrested) . . . . 🔥🔥Genre: Trilling romance and suspense✨✨ 💝Written by:💝 💖Jesudamilola Abiola💝 . . . Scott's POV As soon as the man walked pass me, I felt suspicious of him instantly and as I turned back again, I saw him turning towards the direction of the room I was coming from... "What?" I furrowed and decided to follow him

“Is there a problem? What's going on?” “I repeat: get out of the vehicle!” Scott opened the car door and got out. The one who had spoken to him made a sign to the other and he took out some handcuffs as he approached him, ordering him to put his hands on the hood of the car. Before the guard could reach for his arm, Scott turned quickly and stood behind him, locking his neck with his left arm and drawing the pistol from his belt with the other, firing twice at the neck and head of the first one, who did not have time to react, and then fired a shot at the neck of the one he was holding. The other two guards in front of the vehicle began firing their rifles at him and Scott took cover behind

Scott beat me out of the door. Her scent tasted so fresh, and deep in my lungs when I inhaled, it was like nothing I'd ever imagined. It was easy to find where she'd parked her car, and which way she went after. Scott road with me in my Bugatti downtown, to a part of the city I didn't visit often … or ever. Scott chuckled when we made a sharp left down a street that was known for drugs, and people that were up to no good. "You need to sway her quickly, and get her out of this part of town," Scott said, shifting in his seat.

he said excitedly pointing at the young man close to his desk Spade's eyes cut to the young man and looked at him, his eyes raking him from up to down, he could see the fear in his eyes and the uncertainty. He looked away and back at the old man. Greg quickly walked towards his small in bar in his office and pulled out a scotch and three glasses before walking back to the table and filling them with scotch. He handed one of the half filled cup to Spade, it took a while before Spade stretched out his hand and took the cup of scotch from him, instead of drinking it he just looked into the cup as he twirled the liquid inside.

But as he drove his red 1958 Ford F-150 down the narrow two-lane road through the northern Ontario wilderness, he felt an irrepressible sense of excitement at the prospect of the next chapter of his life. In Manitoulin, he drove straight to the Rusty Hatchet Pub, parking in the small lot, and making his way into the bar. "Scott, my boy," called a familiar smoky voice. As Scott's eyes adjusted to the murky interior, a stark contrast to the brilliant sun outside, he spotted his friend Eustace Farmer. "Eustace! How's it going, my brother?" The fact that Eustace was in his late eighties had never fazed Scott. He made friends wherever he went and was always happy to meet someone with a story.

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?!"