“True enough,” Bo said. “Even still, I suspect folks see me as a circus act. A black man whose biological father was the Imperial Wizard of the KKK.” He paused and shook his head. “All those years I spent trying to bring the men that murdered Roosevelt Haynes to justice, and turns out my daddy wasn’t Roosevelt but the leader of the lynch mob. How’s that for irony?”

Helen sighed and stood from her chair. She walked to the door and petted Lee Roy behind the ears. “I know you’ve been through hell, Bo, and I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to come to grips with your family history.” She paused and gazed at him. “But despite all that, and regardless of your suspensions from the practice and the bogus criminal conviction that came out of you trying to prevent Jazz from being killed . . . despite all of that . . . you’re still the only attorney I’d trust to handle this case.”

“It’s not even a case yet,” Bo said.

“It will be.”

For almost a minute, neither of them spoke. Finally, Bo stood and placed his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Helen gave a swift nod and grabbed the doorknob. Before exiting, she peered over her shoulder at him. “You know, Tom would be ashamed of what you’ve let yourself become, Bo. Whether you help me or not, your life has spiraled downhill since Tom died. You’ve quit and been content to sit out here on your dead friend’s farm feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I think it’s time you leave, General.” Bo felt adrenaline and anger begin to pulse through him.

“If you’d been strong and gotten your life in order, you would have never lost custody of Lila and T. J. They’d be with you now.” She paused. “The truth is that you’re not so sure they aren’t better off with Jazz’s mom and dad.”

Bo ground his teeth together but said nothing.

“Whatever happened to the Bocephus Haynes who made other attorneys quake with fear any time your name showed up on a pleading? The lawyer that worked cases so hard that insurance defense lawyers were begging to settle with you. The guy that used to make even me lose sleep.”

Bo turned his back on Helen and gazed into the empty kitchen. “He’s gone,” Bo said, feeling hate for himself return with a vengeance.

“Is he?” Helen asked, sarcasm leaking into her tone. “I don’t think so. I believe that he’s lurking somewhere beneath the surface, and you’re just plain scared of him.”

Bo tried to speak, but no words came.

“A pity,” Helen said, twisting the knob and opening the door. Outside, the rain continued to fall at a steady pace. “Well, you can forget my little request. I don’t want a coward like you to represent me anyway.”