Say Teenie and Dell don’t know anything about this. And then Sally dies. Sally dies because . . . she told. Because she told her mother. But I remembered Helen’s overwhelming grief, and I didn’t think Helen had known why Sally died. Until I came along and told Hollis and Helen differently, they’d thought her death was an accident. As far as I knew, Helen had never questioned that. And she’d believed Dell shot Teenie. Why? Over Teenie’s pregnancy, of course! And then, unable to face what he’d done, Helen believed that Dell had shot himself.

Only then, to clear his name, Sybil had hired me, and I’d told Helen that Dell hadn’t shot Teenie. I’d told Helen that both her daughters had been murdered by someone else.

I didn’t exactly feel like all these deaths were my fault, but I didn’t feel good about them, either. I’d done what I’d been hired to do, with no idea what the consequences might be in a confused place like Sarne. I believed after she found out they’d been killed, Helen must have realized who would have wanted both her daughters to die. I believed she would have arranged to confront that person to verify her suspicions, and during that confrontation that person had killed her, watched by all those pictures of two dead girls, in the little box-like house.

“I don’t believe Sybil,” I said abruptly.

Tolliver looked over at me briefly before turning his attention back to the rain-slick road. There was a distant rumble. I shivered.

“Why?”

“I don’t believe Mary Nell would ever threaten to kill herself,” I said. “I don’t believe she would resort to tactics like this to win your interest. I think she’s too proud.”

“She’s sixteen.”

“Yeah, but she’s got her backbone in straight.”

“So, why are we going?”

“Because Sybil wants us there badly enough to lie about it, and I want to know why.”

“I don’t know, maybe we should just go back to the motel. It’s thundering, and you know there may be lightning.”

“I got that.” As a matter of fact, the Tylenol hadn’t prevented the ferocious headache building behind my eyes. “But I think we should go to Sybil’s.” Something was pushing me, and I had a bad feeling it wasn’t something smart.

I spotted a flash of lightning out of the corner of my eye and tried not to flinch. I was safe, in a car, and when I got out, I’d be very careful not to step into a downed electrical wire or hold a golf club or stand under a tree or do any of the myriad things people did that increased their chances of being electrocuted by lightning, either directly or indirectly. But I couldn’t help ducking and hiding my face.

“You can’t do this,” Tolliver said. “We need to get inside.”

“Go to the Teagues’ house,” I yelled. I was terrified, but I was driven.