Chapters (86)
- Cover
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- ThursdayChapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- FridayChapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- SaturdayChapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- SundayChapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- MondayChapter 20
- Chapter 21
- TuesdayChapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- WednesdayChapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- ThursdayChapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- FridayChapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Also by Greg Iles
- About the Publisher
“I don’t know,” I confess. “I don’t know what the hell he’s doing. I think my blood pressure’s about two hundred over one hundred.”
“I’m hanging up. I’ll text you in a minute.”
The phone goes dead in my ear.
“What happened?” Annie asks from the floor. “You look happy.”
“I’m not sure. But things might look a little better than they did before. I think.”
“Did Mr. Quentin do something right?”
My cell phone pings in my hand. “I sure hope so.”
Rusty’s text reads:
3:12 p.m. Shad just recalled Billy Byrd. Elder asked if questioning would take long. Shad said no. Elder taking 15 minute break. Bathroom, probably. You should feel the vibe in here, man. Feels like 1965. It’s like the Klan’s in here with us.
Billy Byrd? I say to myself. What can Bill Byrd testify about beyond the forensics?
“What, Daddy? What did Mr. Quentin do?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, still dazed by Quentin’s cross. “But I know what he didn’t do.”
“What?”
“He didn’t ask about the videotape.”
“What videotape?”
“The one in Henry’s camera.”
“Daddy, I don’t understand.”
Annie is trying hard to help me, despite being confused.
Fifteen minutes, I think, my heart kicking in my chest.
“What was on the tape, Daddy?”
“Annie,” I say, sitting up and taking one of her hands in mine, “there’s one more witness against Papa today, and Mr. Rusty says Quentin needs my help to handle him.”
Her eyes widen.
“Do you think you can do without me for an hour?”
She bites her lip for about three seconds, then nods.
“Mia must still be around, right?”
“She is. She probably just wanted us to have some time together.” Annie smiles with conscious bravery and gets to her feet. “Miiiaaaa?”
Quick footsteps sound on the staircase, then Mia’s head pops through the door. “What’s up, kid?”
“Daddy’s got to run to court for one more witness.”
Mia smiles a little too quickly and brightly, and I realize she’s working hard to adapt to whatever comes next.
“We’re good, no problem,” she says, glancing at her watch. “You’d better hurry, huh?”
“Yeah. I’ll get Tim to drop me. I’ll see you guys in an hour.”