Cried For No One

by Hubert Crouch

Overview

WHO WOULD STEAL A BODY FROM ITS GRAVE AND WHY? A beautiful University of Texas Student, A Wild Night of Partying, A Mysterious Death, A High-Stakes Courtroom Drama where Truth is Elusive and Justice Hard to Find.In this best-selling debut, flamboyant Fort Worth trial lawyer Cal Connors is hired by distraught parents after their daughter's body is found beneath an inverted crucifix on the altar of a rural church. Hard-nosed in the courtroom and well-connected to the local media and judiciary, Cal sues the cemetery for millions. Hot on Cal's trail is Leah Rosen, a young journalist closing in on the truth and willing to put her career on the line for justice. Defense attorney Jace Forman takes on rival Cal and won't rest until he finds out who could have committed this macabre crime and why. With its intriguing characters, shocking twists and turns, and sizzling Texas flavor, this legal thriller will keep readers enthralled until its heart-stopping climax!"Readers interested in courtroom drama and fast-moving thrillers will find much to like here..." - Publishers Weekly"In the well-plotted tale, the author adeptly explores the complex interrelationships among politicos, the media and various legal and law enforcement professionals...There are a number of thriller chestnuts, too...Well-crafted with an authentic Southwestern setting..." - Kirkus Reviews"If your preference in fiction leans toward courtroom drama and mystery, you will love Hubert Crouch's Cried For No One." - John Seigenthaler, Founding Editorial Director of USA Today and Founder, the First Amendment Center"Rich with dialogue and well developed characters, the tale reveals surprising twists and turns all along the way...Grab a copy of this book and take a ride through its gripping plot, intriguing characters and shocking conclusion, all seasoned with a hearty dose of Texas flavor." - Dallas Bar Association "Crouch spins a compelling courtroom drama...a fast-moving narrative which, interestingly, hinges not on a guilt-or-innocence criminal trial, but on a big-money civil case. He's created colorful characters by splicing together a motley assortment of tics and traits he's observed during his 40-plus years of litigating toxic tort, commercial, and personal injury cases." - Pursuit Magazine "Characters are well-defined to the point where the reader can begin to imagine actual public figures on which they might be based. Their intriguing relations intertwine with startling twists of events that keep the pages turning straight to a powerhouse Texas size finale. ...Well worth the read." - The Islander Magazine, Galveston, Texas"As a former state district judge, I was riveted to the book. I know Hubert as a top-of-his-class trial lawyer -- now I know him as a top-of-his-class author. Just as he could effectively present his case in a winning manner to persuade a court or jury, he has used these same accomplished skills on his reader -- he captivates, holds our attention and, with all the flair of great suspense writers, weaves a story that you can't put down. Well worth the read!" - The Honorable Alvin Zimmerman, Former Texas State District Judge

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781481239479
Publisher:	CreateSpace Publishing
Publication date:	02/13/2013
Series:	Jace Forman , #1
Pages:	308
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 8.90(h) x 0.90(d)

About the Author

Hubert Crouch is a graduate of Phillips Andover Academy, Vanderbilt University, and Southern Methodist University School of Law. He practiced trial law in Texas for over forty years. In addition to practicing law, he taught Free Speech and the First Amendment, Public Speaking and Legal Advocacy to undergraduates at Southern Methodist University and was awarded the Rotunda Outstanding Professor Award. An avid rock and roll fan, he has played guitar in various bands over the years. He and his wife split their time between their home in Nashville, Tennessee and their mountain retreat near Sewanee, Tennessee.

Read an Excerpt

PROLOGUE

Moonlight exposed the lifeless body from the waist down. The feet were petite and bare, toenails painted a bright red. Slender ankles led to tanned, shapely legs, half hidden from view by the simple white dress.

Gloved hands moved timidly forward, gently grasping the ankles. Slowly, the body was inched downward out of the battered coffin. The dress bunched at the waist, revealing white cotton panties. The gloved hands released the ankles, reached forward, readjusted the dress, and then resumed their task.

There were no buttons; the upper portion of the dress ringed with delicate lace. The eyes were closed, and though the makeup was subtle, the face resembled that of a painted porcelain doll. The lips held no smile, yet no frown. They were tightly drawn, seemingly impenetrable. The gloved hands trembled as they felt their way under the body and gently lifted it from its resting place. Suddenly, bells clanged at a nearby chapel. It was 4:00 a.m. There was no time to waste. The maintenance crew would arrive in a little over an hour. Quickly but carefully, the body was laid in the backseat of the Blazer. The ignition key turned and the engine came to life. —-

An hour later, the Reverend Willie Talbot, pastor for thirty years of the Mount Ararat Baptist Church, reluctantly glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table—5:00. He turned over in bed and was annoyed to see his wife of forty years resting peacefully by his side. It wasn't fair. She had no trouble winding down at night and was usually asleep shortly after her head hit the pillow while he tossed and turned, his mind cluttered with intrusive thoughts and needless worries. And Saturday night was always the worst. Sure, he had planned out the Sunday sermon carefully and rehearsed it over and over, his wife playfully cautioning him that if he uttered it one more time she would file for divorce. But despite the preparation, he just couldn't get a good night's sleep on Saturday night. It didn't matter what he did. And this night was no different.

Reverend Talbot sighed and then sat up in bed. He picked up the wire-rimmed glasses off the bedside table and perched them on his nose, stood up, and shuffled toward the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, he finished the last bite of buttered toast, took a final swig of black coffee, wrote his wife a note, and then headed toward Mount Ararat.

As he slowly drove down Singleton Boulevard, he repeated his sermon, raising his voice at times and lowering it at others. The sermon was flawlessly delivered, concluding just minutes before Reverend Talbot turned his ten-year-old Buick into the gravel parking lot in front of the church.

Mount Ararat Baptist Church was a humble wooden structure, with a small wooden cross for a steeple. The walls needed a new coat of paint. The front yard was bare, grass growing only in small patches. Reverend Talbot stepped out of his car, took two steps toward his church, and abruptly stopped. A large spray-painted black "X" covered the oak doors leading to the sanctuary. The number "666" and the phrases "Satan is my savior" and "House of the Devil" had been spray-painted on either side of the sanctuary doors. For at least five seconds, Reverend Talbot stood frozen in place, unable to comprehend what was in front of him. Then he raced up the church's crumbling concrete steps, pulled a white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket, dropped to his knees, and frantically began scrubbing at the words. He began to sob and, against his better judgment, pulled a key from his pocket. With a shaking hand, he inserted the key into the sanctuary lock. But there was no need to turn it—the lock had been smashed. He leaned against the door, and it slowly creaked open. Stepping inside, he peered into the dimness, his eyes following the aisle toward the altar.

A female body in a white dress lay lifeless on the altar, the sanctuary crucifix positioned upside down behind it. For what seemed to be an eternity, Reverend Talbot couldn't move, his eyes glued to the scene in front of him. Then, as he began backing toward the sanctuary entrance, he pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and dialed 911.

A dispatcher answered.

"This is Reverend Willie Talbot. Devil worshippers have been in my church!"

"What? Would you please repeat that, sir?"

"Devil worshippers at my church! The Mount Ararat Baptist Church, 1901 Singleton! Get the police here, and quick!"

"Are you sure this—"

"Lady, get somebody here quick. My church has been attacked!"

Reverend Talbot hurried back to his car, jumped inside, turned the ignition, and hit the automatic door lock. His eyes darted in all directions and then lingered on the rearview mirror before closing in relief. The Reverend sighed deeply, bowed his head, and softly mumbled a short, desperate prayer.

What People are Saying About This

John Seigenthaler

"If your preference in fiction leans toward courtroom drama and mystery, you will love Hubert Crouch's Cried For No One." --John Seigenthaler, Founding Editorial Director of USA Today and Founder, the First Amendment Center

The Honorable Alvin Zimmerman

"As a former state district judge, I was riveted to the book. I know Hubert as a top-of-his-class trial lawyer -- now I know him as a top-of-his-class author. Just as he could effectively present his case in a winning manner to persuade a court or jury, he has used these same accomplished skills on his reader -- he captivates, holds our attention and, with all the flair of great suspense writers, weaves a story that you can't put down. Well worth the read!" — The Honorable Alvin Zimmerman, Former Texas State District Judge

Editorial Reviews

"Readers interested in courtroom drama and fast-moving thrillers will find much to like here..." - Publishers Weekly

"In the well-plotted tale, the author adeptly explores the complex interrelationships among politicos, the media and various legal and law enforcement professionals...There are a number of thriller chestnuts, too...Well-crafted with an authentic Southwestern setting..." - Kirkus Reviews

"If your preference in fiction leans toward courtroom drama and mystery, you will love Hubert Crouch's Cried For No One." - John Seigenthaler, Founding Editorial Director of USA Today and Founder, the First Amendment Center.

"Rich with dialogue and well developed characters, the tale reveals surprising twists and turns all along the way...Grab a copy of this book and take a ride through its gripping plot, intriguing characters and shocking conclusion, all seasoned with a hearty dose of Texas flavor." - Dallas Bar Association

"Crouch spins a compelling courtroom drama...a fast-moving narrative which, interestingly, hinges not on a guilt-or-innocence criminal trial, but on a big-money civil case. He's created colorful characters by splicing together a motley assortment of tics and traits he's observed during his 40-plus years of litigating toxic tort, commercial, and personal injury cases." - Pursuit Magazine

"Characters are well-defined to the point where the reader can begin to imagine actual public figures on which they might be based. Their intriguing relations intertwine with a startling twists of events that keep the pages turning straight to a powerhouse Texas size finale. ...[W]ell worth the read." - The Islander Magazine, Galveston, Texas

“As a former state district judge, I was riveted to the book. I know Hubert as a top-of-his-class trial lawyer — now I know him as a top-of-his-class author. Just as he could effectively present his case in a winning manner to persuade a court or jury, he has used these same accomplished skills on his reader — he captivates, holds our attention and, with all the flair of great suspense writers, weaves a story that you can’t put down. Well worth the read!” –The Honorable Alvin Zimmerman, Former Texas State District Judge

From the Publisher