extile mills。 Everyone … black as well as white … thinks it's going to be better over the next jump of land。 It's the American damn way。 Even a giant like Coffey doesn't get noticed everywhere he goes … until； that is； he decides to kill a couple of little girls。 Little white girls。〃
〃Do you believe that？〃 I asked。
He gave me a bland look from his too…thin face。 〃Sometimes I do；〃 he said。
His wife leaned out of the kitchen window like an engineer from the cab of a lootive and called； 〃Kids！ Cookies are ready！〃 She turned to me。 〃Would you like an oatmeal…raisin cookie； Mr。 Edgebe？〃
〃I'm sure they're delicious； ma'am； but I'll take a pass this time。〃
〃All right；〃 she said； and drew her head back inside。
〃Have you seen the scars on him？〃 Hammersmith asked abruptly。 He was still watching his kids； selves to abandon the pleasures of the swing … not even for oatmeal…raisin cookies。
〃Yes。〃 But I was surprised he had。
He saw my reaction and laughed。 〃The defense attorney's one big victory was getting Coffey to take off his shirt and show those scars to the jury。 The prosecutor； George Peterson； objected like hell； but the judge allowed it。 Old George could have saved； his breath … juries around these parts don't buy all that psychology crap about how people who've been mistreated just can't help themselves。 They believe people can help themselves。 It's a point of view I have a lot of sympathy for … but those scars were pretty g