The coroner snorts with something like contempt. “You wantin’ some of that magic Negro advice? The mystical secret for getting through times of trial and tribulation?”

“I’ll take anything you’ve got.”

“The best advice I ever heard came from a white man. A fat Englishman with his back against the wall and the wolf at his door.”

I raise my eyebrows, too tired to ask.

“Never, never quit.” Jewel smiles. “Winston Churchill smoked a cigar, just like your daddy.”

“You really believe in Dad, don’t you?”

Her pupils seem to dilate in their dark irises. “I know men, baby. I’ve seen enough bad ones to recognize the good. And your daddy’s in a class by himself. If you have any questions about the autopsy, call my son’s cell, not mine.”

I hand her my cell phone and ask her to enter the number for me. As she does, I say, “I’ve always felt like you do about Dad. But the way he’s acting about Viola has shaken my faith. I hate telling you that, but it’s true.”

Jewel hands the phone back to me, and then her eyes seem to go out of focus. She’s looking inward. “I don’t know what happened to Miss Viola that night. All that autopsy can tell you is what happened inside her body. But Tom Cage wouldn’t hurt a soul unless it was to relieve pain. And sometimes … Lord, that’s all you can do. Every nurse knows that.” She takes me by the hand, her grasp warm and maternal. “Whatever decision your daddy made that night, I’ll stake my job it was the right one.”

This heartfelt vow pierces me to the quick. Caitlin’s easy reassurance barely scratched the surface of my anxiety, but Jewel’s faith has sunk into me like a harpoon. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

The coroner’s eyes harden. “My faith doesn’t buy you anything, Penn. You’ve got to steel yourself for what’s coming. You’re too much like your father. That’s your weakness. You always look for the good in folks. But in Billy Byrd and old Shadrach, you’d be lookin’ in vain.”

Her warning tone sobers me. “Jewel … let me show you something. Come around to my side of the desk.”

As she does, I hit a button on my keyboard, banishing the screen saver and summoning the obscene photograph of Shad Johnson and the bloody pit bull back to the screen. Jewel’s hand flies to her chest when she realizes who and what she’s seeing. Then she shakes her head like a devout Christian being forced to look at the devil’s work.

“What are you going to do with this picture?”

“I’m about to show it to Brother Shad.”