He didn’t say anything else, but turned in the right direction. I was ashamed of myself for yelling at my brother, but I was also strangely light-headed and focused on what lay ahead. A little part of my brain was still gnawing at the problem: Why would Dell and Teenie have to die, if Dell wasn’t Dick Teague’s son? What secret was so important that all those people had to die, the people who could reveal it?

The Teague house was mostly dark when we pulled up to it. I’d imagined it would be blazing with light, but only one window glowed through the darkness. None of the outside lights were on, which I thought was strange. If I’d been Sybil, I’d have turned on all the outside lights once I’d made sure company was coming, especially on an evening when bad weather was obviously imminent.

“This is bad,” Tolliver said slowly. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. We parked at the front of the house. The rain drummed on the roof of the car. “I think you better call your cop buddy,” he said to me. “I think we better stay out of that house until we have someone with authority here.” He switched on the dome light.

“I can’t count on him being the one on call,” I said, but I dialed his home number on the chance that Hollis was snug and warm and dry in his little house. No answer. I tried the sheriff’s office. The dispatcher answered. She sounded distracted. I could hear the radio squawking in the background. “Is Hollis on patrol?” I asked.

“No, he’s answering a call about a tree being across the road on County Road 212,” she snapped. “And I got a three-car accident on Marley Street.” I could see that a personal call to a busy officer would not be priority.

“Tell him to come to the Teagues’ house as soon as he can,” I said. “Tell him it’s very important. I think a crime’s been committed there.”

“Someone’ll come as soon as they can get free from the ones we’re sure about,” she said, and she hung up the phone.

“Okay, we’re on our own,” I told Tolliver. He switched off the light, leaving us in a dark island of dry warmth. The cold rain was pelting down, drenching the lawn and rinsing off the car. The flashes of lightning were only occasional. I could stand it, I told myself. We’d parked at the end of the sidewalk that led directly to the main doors. The garage, with its door into the kitchen, was to our left on the west side of the house.

“I’ll go in the front, you go in the garage door,” I said. By the distant glow of the streetlights, I could see Tolliver open his mouth to protest, then close it again.

“All right,” he said. “On the count of three. One, two, three!”