Mia walks over to the sofa against the wall and tucks her legs beneath her. She’s left room for me, but I sit in the chair opposite the TV.

“Are you holding up okay?” she asks.

“It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

She looks over toward the kitchen door. “Can I ask you something about Caitlin?”

“Sure.”

Almost inaudibly, she says, “Is it true that she was pregnant when she died?”

Why is she asking me this now? “Yes. How did you know that?”

“It was in a story I read in a Jackson paper. About the autopsy report.”

I nod in silence.

“Your mom just mentioned it to me, though. A few minutes ago.”

This surprises me. “Really?”

Mia nods, her eyes still on the kitchen door. “Did Annie ever find out?”

“Not so far, thank God.”

“Okay. So . . . your mother also told me your father’s not handling this very well. That he’s pulled inside himself. That he’s not telling you guys anything. Only Quentin.”

“I’m surprised Mom told you that much. By her law, nothing is ever mentioned outside the family circle.”

Mia’s eyes flicker with something I can’t interpret. “Maybe I’m inside the circle now. How much faith do you have in Quentin?”

“It comes and goes.”

“Options?”

“Annie thinks I need to be defending Dad.”

“From the mouths of babes—”

“Comes baby talk.”

Mia shakes her head, then stretches as though tired. “Don’t you think maybe you should go see your father?”

“Did Mom push you to get me to visit him?”

“She didn’t push me at all. But it seems clear that your father’s silence is crippling his defense. Are you sure he’s even talking to Quentin?”

“I’m not. I’ll tell you something, though. Quentin’s erratic behavior has distracted our family from a very simple fact.”

“What?”

“From a prosecutor’s standpoint, Shad Johnson made his case today. A very compelling forensic case, right down the line. No matter what Miriam prints in the Examiner, after hearing today’s testimony, nobody can deny that Dad had the motive, the means, and the opportunity to murder Viola Turner. And so far as anyone knows, he has no alibi. When you add the bomb Sheriff Byrd dropped about that tape they found in the Dumpster . . . things look pretty grim.”

Mia gets up from the couch and comes to sit on the ottoman in front of me. “Look at me,” she says, taking my hand. “Do you think your father killed Viola?”

“He told me he did.”

Her face drains of color. “What?”

“When I visited the Pollock FCI that one time.”

Mia is finally at a loss for words.

“Truthfully, I don’t think he murdered her. But did he kill her? It’s possible. And I’m scared as hell of those videotapes.”

“If he did kill her, do you think he would have told your mother?”

“No. God, no.”

Mia nods. “Agreed. Peggy believes he’s innocent, straight-up, no doubts.”