“Will Devine and his family disappeared sometime between last night and sunrise. Cleaned their place out.”

Snake processed this news in silence. As his mind worked, he noticed the way the kudzu vines threw runners into the open air, searching for purchase like starving serpents, climbing and eventually strangling even the tallest trees.

“You there, Grandpa?”

“What do you mean, ‘cleaned the place out’?”

“Clothes, money, files, family albums . . . they left the place a wreck. We talked to the neighbors, but nobody heard nothing.”

“Devine has kids. Grown kids.”

“They’re gone too, baby. It’s a clean sweep.”

Snake felt the ground shift beneath his feet. “Then I don’t guess you got back on the job in time, did you?”

“Hey,” Toons said, his voice hard. “You still want those shooters today or not?”

“Everything stays the same. Eleven a.m. at the ruins.”

Snake ended the call and ran back toward the house. Alois was walking down the concrete porch step, and the second he looked up he read the anger and worry in Snake’s face.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Get the boat key,” Snake ordered.

“What’s happened?”

“The FBI flipped Will Devine.”

Alois blanched. “Motherfucker. Where we going? Are we bailing?”

“Hell, no,” Snake barked, slapping his son’s shoulder as he passed him. “We’re going to Natchez.”

Alois let out a rebel yell and ran toward the International Harvester pickup that held the key to the boat.

Snake watched his son for a few seconds, thinking about how in the end, everything came down to blood. There was your family, and then there was the rest of the world. Snake would have given a lot to have Frank at his side for what was coming, but Alois would have to do. He would be enough.

Alois was blood.

Chapter 51

When Cora Revels took the stand two days ago, she looked like a grieving church matron reluctantly testifying about her family scandal in the hope of getting justice for her sister. Today she’s equally well dressed, but her eyes are those of a frightened woman with something to hide.

When Quentin speaks, his words are courteous, but his tone isn’t as solicitous as it was the last time he questioned the victim’s sister. “Ms. Revels, I’m sorry to bring you back up here. I only have a few questions for you.”

“All right.”

“Did your sister leave an estate behind when she died?”

“Estate? All we had was Mama’s house, and that weren’t no estate. It doesn’t even have central air.”

Muffled laughter comes from the rows of lawyers.

“I don’t mean the house only, Ms. Revels. I mean whatever property your sister might have had left in her name when she died, after the medical bills were paid. It could be a checking account, a savings bond, stocks or bonds.”

“Oh. Yes, Vee did have a little bit of money put back.”