“Easy there, General. What you see ain’t all I got. For not wantin’ trouble, you seem to be ready for a lot of it.”

McCrea said nothing. Grubbs stopped his advance.

“You got a pretty family,” Grubbs said.

“We’re not a family,” Caleb said.

Grubbs threw his head back and issued a hearty laugh. “Well, ain’t you the talkative one,” he said. “Here you got all these grown-up adults keepin’ their mouths shut, hopin’ that we can all pretend that this is all normal shit.” He made jazz hands and opened his eyes and mouth wide. “Wait. What dead guy? Is there a dead guy? But you—what’s your name, kid?”

“That’s none of your business,” Victoria said.

“Ooh, and you’re a sassy one, too. General, you got your hands full with these folks, don’t you?”

Copley had pivoted away from Grubbs to face the others in the tree line.

“Your name, kid.”

“Caleb,” the boy said.

“Well, Caleb, since you asked such a good question, I’ll give you an honest answer.” Grubbs pressed his lips into a thin smile as he scanned their faces. “Me and my friends was walkin’ up the hill that you’re about to go down, and we found this wreck right where you see it. Then, when we seen the general here comin’ with his army, well, we just slipped into the woods. We was worried people might think that we had something to do with what happened here.”

“There’s blood on your sleeve,” Caleb said, pointing with his forehead.

“Caleb!” Victoria snapped.

The fake smile disappeared from Grubbs’s face, replaced by a deep scowl. “General? Caleb’s Mama? You might want to teach your oldest a few manners. He asks smart questions, but he’s not very smart, is he?”

“This doesn’t have to turn ugly,” McCrea said.

“Oh, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think? How about me and my friends just shoot you down right here?”

McCrea took a step closer to Grubbs, blocking his eye line to the Emersons. “Here’s the thing, Mr. Grubbs,” he said. “I couldn’t care less about what you and your friends may or may not have done here. A lot of things have changed in the world since last night, and I care more about surviving than seeing justice done.”

“Well, General, that’s great—”

“I’m not done,” McCrea said. “If you or any of your merry band of followers raise the muzzles of their weapons even an inch, we’re going to have a bloodbath right here in the middle of the street. Think promise, not threat there. This is a one-off chance for all of us to disengage and be on our way. It’s entirely your call.”