wild swipes at him. But before anyone else could take a swing, another member of the konklave called out, “Sanbog! Sanbog!” It was a warning between klansmen. It meant, Strangers are near. Be on guard.
The moment that was said, a dozen FBI agents came bursting from the bushes. The klansmen scattered as they had been trained to do since they were kids. This wasn’t the first time the authorities had come after the Charleston den, although it was the first time the Feds had done so.
“Stop!” the FBI agent in charge shouted. “Federal officers!”
The command caused the klansmen to run faster. They rushed through the brush like escaped convicts in a low-budget prison movie.
Earl Smith stood frozen in place, though. He didn’t know why, but he did. Perhaps it was because he knew he had violated one of the cardinal tenets of the brotherhood and felt he deserved to be punished. Then he heard, “Run, Earl! Run!”
It was Billy Joe Collier who was shouting his name—the same man who had convened the trial in the first place.
So Earl Smith ran … and ran … and ran.
CHAPTER 38
Clay Smith made himself comfortable on the couch. Well, not comfortable… . He knew he wouldn’t enjoy what he was about to do. He should have done it when they were in the kitchen. He was still half asleep then, and he would have been acting on instinct.
Kelsi Shelton entered the room. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and nothing else. She made her way to the stereo and put on the new James Taylor CD. “He’s an old fart, but he’s dreamy,” she said.
“He’s frickin’ bald, girl. Are you nuts?” Clay’s eyes were locked on Kelsi’s.
Kelsi smiled. “His voice is like maple syrup.” She sat on the couch. “Oh. I forgot. You’re from South Carolina. You use molasses down there.” She leaned over and kissed Clay on the cheek.
Shit, Clay said to himself. This is going to be even more difficult than I thought.
The first cut was the deepest. Sheryl Crow had sung that line in a pop hit once, but she surely had something else in mind when she did.
Kelsi was too stunned to scream. Instead, she gasped and slid off the couch. Blood spotted the rug like a bug against a trucker’s windshield.
Clay said, “Sorry” and raced from the room. So much for earning a law degree from UVA, he said to himself. But his loyalty to the Klan came first. “Akia,” he said as he slammed shut the door to Kelsi’s apartment. A klansman I am.
Minutes passed like hours as Kelsi Shelton struggled for her life. She now knew what Professor McDonald must have felt like. Professor McDonald …
She should have been dead already. Clay certainly thought she was. Why would he do it? Why would he stab her?
Kelsi had known ever since the first time she had met Clay at a 1L orientation that he had a crush on her. She had finally given him what he wanted—herself—and this was how he responded? It didn’t make sense. Yes, she had heard the rumors about Clay and the Ku Klux Klan, but she had never believed them. Nobody did. But were they true? Could Clay Smith really be a member of the most hate-filled organization in U.S. history?
Kelsi knew she would never know the answer. She knew she would never know anything ever again.
She closed her eyes. For forever, she thought.
CHAPTER 39
The Ku Klux Klan had entered the twenty-first century; most klansmen now carried cell phones or Blackberries. Earl Smith certainly did, and he had forgotten to turn his off. It started ringing—an old Hank Williams Jr. hit served as the ring tone—and that stopped the FBI agents who were chasing him dead in their tracks.
“What’s that?” one of the agents asked.
“It sounds like a cell phone,” another one answered. “Is it yours?”
“No,” the first agent said. “It’s coming from over there.” He pointed to a large oak tree a hundred feet to the left of where the agents were standing.
But Earl Smith was already
The moment that was said, a dozen FBI agents came bursting from the bushes. The klansmen scattered as they had been trained to do since they were kids. This wasn’t the first time the authorities had come after the Charleston den, although it was the first time the Feds had done so.
“Stop!” the FBI agent in charge shouted. “Federal officers!”
The command caused the klansmen to run faster. They rushed through the brush like escaped convicts in a low-budget prison movie.
Earl Smith stood frozen in place, though. He didn’t know why, but he did. Perhaps it was because he knew he had violated one of the cardinal tenets of the brotherhood and felt he deserved to be punished. Then he heard, “Run, Earl! Run!”
It was Billy Joe Collier who was shouting his name—the same man who had convened the trial in the first place.
So Earl Smith ran … and ran … and ran.
CHAPTER 38
Clay Smith made himself comfortable on the couch. Well, not comfortable… . He knew he wouldn’t enjoy what he was about to do. He should have done it when they were in the kitchen. He was still half asleep then, and he would have been acting on instinct.
Kelsi Shelton entered the room. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt and nothing else. She made her way to the stereo and put on the new James Taylor CD. “He’s an old fart, but he’s dreamy,” she said.
“He’s frickin’ bald, girl. Are you nuts?” Clay’s eyes were locked on Kelsi’s.
Kelsi smiled. “His voice is like maple syrup.” She sat on the couch. “Oh. I forgot. You’re from South Carolina. You use molasses down there.” She leaned over and kissed Clay on the cheek.
Shit, Clay said to himself. This is going to be even more difficult than I thought.
The first cut was the deepest. Sheryl Crow had sung that line in a pop hit once, but she surely had something else in mind when she did.
Kelsi was too stunned to scream. Instead, she gasped and slid off the couch. Blood spotted the rug like a bug against a trucker’s windshield.
Clay said, “Sorry” and raced from the room. So much for earning a law degree from UVA, he said to himself. But his loyalty to the Klan came first. “Akia,” he said as he slammed shut the door to Kelsi’s apartment. A klansman I am.
Minutes passed like hours as Kelsi Shelton struggled for her life. She now knew what Professor McDonald must have felt like. Professor McDonald …
She should have been dead already. Clay certainly thought she was. Why would he do it? Why would he stab her?
Kelsi had known ever since the first time she had met Clay at a 1L orientation that he had a crush on her. She had finally given him what he wanted—herself—and this was how he responded? It didn’t make sense. Yes, she had heard the rumors about Clay and the Ku Klux Klan, but she had never believed them. Nobody did. But were they true? Could Clay Smith really be a member of the most hate-filled organization in U.S. history?
Kelsi knew she would never know the answer. She knew she would never know anything ever again.
She closed her eyes. For forever, she thought.
CHAPTER 39
The Ku Klux Klan had entered the twenty-first century; most klansmen now carried cell phones or Blackberries. Earl Smith certainly did, and he had forgotten to turn his off. It started ringing—an old Hank Williams Jr. hit served as the ring tone—and that stopped the FBI agents who were chasing him dead in their tracks.
“What’s that?” one of the agents asked.
“It sounds like a cell phone,” another one answered. “Is it yours?”
“No,” the first agent said. “It’s coming from over there.” He pointed to a large oak tree a hundred feet to the left of where the agents were standing.
But Earl Smith was already
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