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.”

“Oh, I know that all too well. She still worships him.”

Mia squeezes my hand, then releases it. “Listen . . . your mom thinks you blame your father for Caitlin’s death. And she’s right, isn’t she?”

“Yes, to a point. But to tell you the truth . . . right now I’m worried about his sanity. I’m thinking of asking Drew to go talk to him. Evaluate him.”

Mia folds her arms across her chest and looks at me with a familiarity I haven’t experienced since Caitlin was alive. “I’m going to go out on a limb here,” she says, “because somebody needs to.”

“What do you want to say?”

“Do you think Caitlin blamed your father for her death?”

“What?” I ask, unsure whether I’ve heard her correctly.

“I mean out there in the swamp, when she was dying. Did she blame him?”

A blast of anger surges through me, and I want to snap back at her. But then I remember Caitlin’s voice during her Treo memo, telling me not to blame anyone but her for her solo trip to the Bone Tree. An electric tingle races along my arms. It’s not as if any of this is new information, but—