“She told me a few things. Mr. Henry wanted to know everything she remembered about Jimmy and Luther, before they disappeared. Especially things they had done for the Movement. Viola told me she knew a lot she’d never told anybody, and she wanted Mr. Henry to know it. She also talked about Lincoln, and how she wanted Dr. Cage to acknowledge him. To give the boy his name. She wanted Lincoln to be able to tell the world that his father was Dr. Cage, not that no-good Junius Jelks. She told me that being pregnant with Lincoln was tied up in why she’d left Natchez in the first place—after Jimmy disappeared—and to understand it all, you had to understand some terrible things.”

“Did she explain what she meant by that?”

This time Cora Revels is the one who pauses. Maybe Quentin figures Judge Elder would allow all this under the “declarant unavailable because of death” exception to the hearsay rule, but he should at least object for the record.

“Miss Cora?” Shad prompts.

“It’s hard for me to say this. But Vee told me she had been troubled by something for a long time. Years and years. She said she’d committed a terrible sin a long time ago. Not just a sin, like adultery, but a crime. And the older she got, the more it weighed on her.”

My heartbeat is picking up.

“What did you think of that?” Shad asks gently.

“Well, I couldn’t think of a crime Viola would commit. When we was little, we used to shoplift things on a dare sometimes. Chewing gum, fishin’ corks, little stuff like that. But Vee wouldn’t even do that. She said stealing was wrong, no matter how small a thing was. That was Vee.”

“Did you believe that she’d committed this crime she spoke of?”

“Oh, yes. ’Cause I could see how it was weighing on her.”

“Was Viola the only one who knew about this crime?”

“No. Whatever it was she’d done, Dr. Cage knew about it. She told me that much. But Doc hadn’t turned her in for it. And she said that made him as guilty as she was.”

A slow accumulation of heat in my face tells me I’ve stopped breathing. Cora can only be describing one event: the murder of Frank Knox in my father’s medical office.

“And did she speak about this crime on the videotape for Henry Sexton?”

“Objection!” I snap, and Annie looks up sharply from the floor. “Contents of writings, recordings, and photographs,” I add, holding my finger to my lips to keep her from distracting me with questions.

But Quentin does not object, and Cora Revels hammers another nail into Dad’s coffin.

“She did. Viola was conflicted about how much to say, though. Whether she should tell the truth about Dr. Cage’s part.”

“Did she tell you anything specific about this crime?”

“No, sir.”