“Yeah . . . fuck it. That’s life, ain’t it?”

I let some time pass. “What did you think about Dad changing his plea?”

Lincoln shakes his head and doesn’t say anything for a while. “I guess he came out a lot better than he could have. Three years in jail, when he could’ve got life. Pretty smart, in the end.”

“That jury was going to acquit him, Lincoln.”

“I think you’re probably right. And when he yelled out like that . . . I swear, I thought he meant to plead guilty to the full charge. To first-degree murder.”

“He did mean to. He tried to. Quentin got it pled down.”

Lincoln nods. “I been thinking about that.”

“And?”

“I don’t think Doc killed Mama.”

“He didn’t.”

“But I think he knew that, in a way, he done worse than killing her. You know? And he wanted to be punished for it.”

“That’s exactly it. But he didn’t have to go to prison.”

Lincoln shrugs. “Maybe he did. For himself. But tell me this. You know for a fact he didn’t kill her?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Who did?”

“The man who’s about to walk into this house. And Sonny Thornfield.”

Lincoln takes a long, deep breath and looks down at the semiautomatic pistol in his hand. “There’s not really anything else to say, is there?”

“I guess not. You all right?”

This time he says nothing.

Chapter 76

I feel the footsteps through the floor before I hear voices. When you’re listening so hard you can hear your pulse in your ears and watch your belly jump with each heartbeat, the impact of three people walking comes through your butt and your feet like the vibrations of a timpani drum.

I look across the ten feet that separate me from my half brother, knowing that in ten seconds one or both of us could be dead.

What if only one walks in while another stays outside to finish a cigarette? Or two walk in but one stays out? If Wilma stays out, Lincoln will probably open up on the guys—

The door swings open and Alois Engel comes through, two feet to my left, wearing Levi’s and a red T-shirt and a shoulder holster. My hand tightens on my pistol to the point of pain. If he turns before the others come in—

The second body through belongs to someone I don’t recognize, but he’s bigger than Alois. He’s young, and there’s a pistol in the holster on his belt. My Springfield comes up with a will of its own, lining up on the stranger’s back as the smell of cigarette smoke floats through the door. He starts to turn as someone else comes through behind him. I’m expecting Wilma, but it’s Snake, thank God, because the last thing I want is a gunfight with Snake Knox outside.