“He didn’t hear enough to be sure. But they were joking about hair and fiber. He thinks they were joking about ‘losing’ some potential evidence. That, and maybe substituting random hair and fiber for some left by a potential perp.”

“Shit. That’s serious, but pretty vague. Would the guy be willing to talk to me?”

Jewel moves her head slowly from side to side. “He’s scared of losing his job already. And don’t tell me you can get him on at the police department, because the benefits over there suck.”

“I hear you. Would he try to find out more than what he has already?”

“I told him to. We might get lucky, but he’s not going to risk his career for me. I’m still hot for my age, but not that hot.”

I take a good minute to think this over, and Jewel doesn’t interrupt me.

“If they’re screwing with evidence,” I think aloud, “that means they know Dad’s innocent.”

“Not necessarily. They may just be piling on, trying to make sure he doesn’t skate thanks to Quentin’s courtroom tricks.”

“What tricks? I’m not sure he has any left.”

Jewel gives me a sharp look. “Don’t be too quick to judge him. He’s a sly old fox, is Quentin.”

When her smile turns wistful, my eyes widen. “Don’t tell me . . . you and Quentin?”

She laughs softly. “Ol’ Q got around in the old days. When I was a nurse, I was a witness in a malpractice case he was handling. I caught his eye, just like every other pretty young thing. He took a couple of depositions from me. No assistants present.”

I shake my head in wonder, amazed by the connections we go through life without seeing.

“Jewel, Dad’s hair and fiber were all over Cora Revels’s house. From what you’ve said, those deputies must have destroyed evidence that would incriminate someone else—someone who stands a reasonable chance of being accused of the crime. Because otherwise, even if we had whatever hair and fiber they destroyed, we wouldn’t know whose hair to compare it to.”

Jewel gives me a slow nod.

“What kind of hair would stand out in that house?” I ask.

“Caucasian, baby.”

“Exactly. Apart from Henry Sexton and my father, how many white people visited that house in the past few weeks, or even months?”

“Not many. And the most likely in my book would be Snake Knox and his buddies.”

“Goddamn it,” I mutter, surprised to feel a blossom of hope in my heart. Despite all my anger and resentment at my father, some part of me still desperately longs for him to be innocent. “I think Cora Revels knows they were there, and she’s flat-out lying about it.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“But why should she lie about that?”

Jewel shrugs. “Fear of the Knoxes?”