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.

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?