Dead or alive, reputations do matter … . In the end, that’s all one has, isn’t it? Addis could hear Grayton saying those words. Addis had his, but …

In the photograph, she was smiling. You never found the ICEMAN report, he said to her silently. And it never turned up. But just by looking for it, you—

The network switched to a shot of Lem Jordan being led into a New Orleans police station in handcuffs. Addis thought about the autopsy report on Griffith: severe head trauma was the cause of death. Jordan had not confessed, but Addis guessed—he hoped—that a scuffle between Jordan and Griffith inadvertently had turned lethal and that a panicked Jordan then tried to make it seem a suicide. That was how Addis liked to think about it.

Next, the recap showed the house outside Baton Rouge—the gated and fenced estate where Chasie Mason had resided—where Margaret was now living with Jack in reclusion. A long-distance shot, compressed because it had been taken with a telephoto lens, with Margaret pushing Jack in his wheelchair toward the high hedges of the garden.

The image faded, and Dan Carey was on the newscast set, sitting next to the anchor. As Carey spoke, he looked confident, authoritative. He cut the air with short, deliberate strokes of his hand. A legend on the screen labeled him a “special political analyst” for the network.

“Just didn’t feel like it,” Addis said to Timmons. “Pretty stupid, I guess.”

“Up to you,” she said.

Alma returned to the room and handed her husband a glass of water. She gave Addis a Coke. A chart on the screen showed that control of the Senate had changed. Palmer, Addis thought, would no longer be majority leader.

Shit, put the truth out, and now they had all of Congress and …

Wesley Pratt gazed out at the crowd. His eyes were full of wonder. His wife held her hands over her mouth. He pumped a fist into the air and red, white, and blue balloons fell from the ceiling. His silver hair shimmered, reflecting the television lights.

Dunne turned on the sound. A band was playing, “You’re a Grand Old Flag.” The camera pulled back and showed the stage was set in front of the State Capitol in Tallahassee. A full moon was shining behind the dome. People in the crowd jumped up and down and wildly waved flags. Others held signs: “Pratt: For God and Country.” Two people raised a banner that read, “John 3:16.” The band slid into a country tune. The crowd roared. It was one of the hits of Pratt’s recording career.

Pratt held out his hands to quiet the crowd. The cheering lessened. Then he kissed his wife on the cheek, and the din resumed.

“Sure you want to watch?” Dunne asked Addis.

“Hate to spoil all your fun.”

“God-damn cracker,” Timmons said.

Alma looked at her disapprovingly.