“Silence, Mr. Turner,” Judge Elder says.

“I recognize his voice as well,” Mr. Patel says with almost feminine snippiness.

“You’re a liar,” Lincoln asserts.

Joe Elder gives Lincoln a burning glare. “One more word, Mr. Turner, and you’re going to jail. Mr. Johnson, do you have any further questions?”

“Nothing further, Your Honor.”

Judge Elder nods at Mr. Patel. “You may step down, sir.”

“Shad did all right,” Rusty murmurs.

“Call your next witness, Mr. Avery.”

Before Quentin speaks, I scoot up to the table and speak in his ear once more. “Okay, now you’ve destroyed Lincoln. Don’t call any other witnesses. It’s time to rest your case.”

“Your Honor,” Quentin says testily, “may I have a moment to confer with my co-counsel?”

“A brief moment.”

Quentin turns to me with his last reserve of patience. “Go ahead, if you must.”

“The jury believed that guy. If not all of them, then three-quarters, surely enough to get an acquittal.”

Quentin lays his wrinkled brown hand on my forearm and fixes me with eyes that look ancient. “One more witness. That’s all.”

“You’re both wrong,” says my father, leaning over from his chair beside Quentin. “I’m still going up there.”

“To take the stand?” I ask in disbelief. “That would be insane at this point. We’re way past reasonable doubt. Quentin just planted the possibility that Lincoln himself killed Viola. For God’s sake, it’s time to declare victory and go home.”

Dad shakes his head slowly, and white hair falls over his wrinkled forehead. “Snake Knox is still out there, son. Have you forgotten that?”

“Snake’s another problem for another day!”

“No. He’s always been at the heart of this case. Penn, you’ve got to trust that we know what we’re doing.”

I look back at Quentin. “Are you really going to put him on the stand?”

“Let’s see how the next witness does.”

For the first time in the trial my father’s face darkens in anger. “We talked about this. We have an agreement.”

Quentin cuts his eyes at Dad. “I know.”

“You promised the jury I would testify.”

“Mr. Avery,” prompts Judge Elder, “we’re not getting any younger.”

“You’ve got a lot more cushion than I do, Joe,” Quentin says under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I was just clearing my throat,” Quentin says. “The defense calls Will Devine.”

Chapter 56