Court was already sitting at the counter, a cup of black coffee in front of him and a plate of toast and eggs on order, when his father entered with two men in suits. The elder Gentry wore jeans and a Carhartt pullover, a Caterpillar baseball cap, and Roper boots, and he nodded to the young waitress behind the counter. She greeted him by name and gave a quick but curious glance to the two men, as did another table of old-timers, but no one looked Court’s way, not even his dad when he passed within feet of him on his way to his favorite table, a booth in the back corner.

Court had his Walker’s Game Ear in his right ear and he had turned it up before the trio arrived, so when his eggs came he was able to position the hearing enhancer perfectly in line with the booth on his right while he ate.

In this way he could hear every word the men said.

“Again, Mr. Gentry. The two of you haven’t had any contact in how long?”

Court listened to his dad sigh. He thought the old man sounded much older than he remembered him sounding, and his voice was slow, slurred a little.

Court had the impression his dad was drunk.

“I told you this morning, and I told your coworkers the other day when they came by.”

“Sorry, Mr. Gentry, but we need you to tell us again.”

“You fellers want to write it down this time? Might help you remember.”

“Please, sir. How long?”

A sigh. “It’s been nineteen years, give or take.”

Court bit into his toast, and he heard the pages on a notepad flipping over at the corner booth.

“What do you do for a living, sir?”

“Social Security. I had a stroke a few years back. Can’t work.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Shit happens,” James said.

Court wanted to look to his father, but he fought the urge. He ate his bacon and looked at his plate, finding himself relieved the man was not, in fact, drunk.

One of the men said, “You had another son. Chance. He was a police officer for the City of Tallahassee.”

A pause before the elder Gentry responded. “That’s correct.”

“He was killed in the line of duty.”

“Are you asking me, or telling me? Because I already know.”

Court knew about his brother, but it still hurt to hear his dad talk about it. He chanced a half glance to his right, but still kept his ear turned towards the booth. He saw his father looking out the window now.

He looks so damn rough, Court thought.

“So . . . you are saying Courtland missed his own brother’s funeral?”

Gentry looked back to his breakfast. He waited to hear what his old man had to say about that.