Chapters (113)
- NATCHEZBURNING
- GREG ILES
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- PART ONE
- 1964–1968
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- PART TWO
- 2005
- MONDAY
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- TUESDAY
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- CHAPTER 37
- CHAPTER 38
- CHAPTER 39
- CHAPTER 40
- CHAPTER 41
- CHAPTER 42
- CHAPTER 43
- CHAPTER 44
- CHAPTER 45
- CHAPTER 46
- CHAPTER 47
- CHAPTER 48
- CHAPTER 49
- CHAPTER 50
- CHAPTER 51
- CHAPTER 52
- CHAPTER 53
- CHAPTER 54
- CHAPTER 55
- CHAPTER 56
- CHAPTER 57
- CHAPTER 58
- WEDNESDAY
- CHAPTER 59
- CHAPTER 60
- CHAPTER 61
- CHAPTER 62
- CHAPTER 63
- CHAPTER 64
- CHAPTER 65
- CHAPTER 66
- CHAPTER 67
- CHAPTER 68
- CHAPTER 69
- CHAPTER 70
- CHAPTER 71
- CHAPTER 72
- CHAPTER 73
- CHAPTER 74
- CHAPTER 75
- CHAPTER 76
- CHAPTER 77
- CHAPTER 78
- CHAPTER 79
- CHAPTER 80
- CHAPTER 81
- CHAPTER 82
- CHAPTER 83
- CHAPTER 84
- CHAPTER 85
- CHAPTER 86
- CHAPTER 87
- CHAPTER 88
- CHAPTER 89
- CHAPTER 90
- CHAPTER 91
- CHAPTER 92
- CHAPTER 93
- CHAPTER 94
- CHAPTER 95
- CHAPTER 96
- CHAPTER 97
- AFTERWORD
- BOOKS BY GREG ILES
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
Tom had made house calls down here before. A few of the camps were luxurious, but most were little more than shacks on stilts, with three flights of iron steps for access. All had makeshift elevators, metal cages hauled up and down a metal track system by a truck winch mounted at the top.
“Shouldn’t that one be it?” Walt asked, pointing up into the darkness, where a faint yellow light burned.
“I think so,” Tom said, still trying to decipher the screen.
Walt made a sharp left into an empty driveway next door to the camp where Thornfield had parked, and cut his engine. “No point wasting time,” he said, touching the derringer that hung on a chain beneath his shirt. “Same signal as the steak house, okay? If you see anything strange, start the engine.”
“I will. You be careful.”
Walt saluted, then got out of the van and silently closed the door.
Tom quickly lost sight of him in the darkness, but he felt confident that Walt would succeed in his mission. A seasoned hunter of men, the old Ranger wouldn’t hesitate to use force if things got dicey. Walt had given Tom a handheld radio to monitor, and reiterated that Tom must leave his cell phone switched off. Tom felt exposed sitting in the empty driveway, even in the dark. But at least most of the camp houses had RVs of various types parked beneath them. As he waited in the van, alone but for the ticking of the cooling engine, his mind began to wander.
All day, he had been quietly contemplating a biblical tale his father had despised. On the Day of Atonement, the priest of the temple had chosen two goats by lot. One would be sacrificed on the altar for the sins of Israel, the other cast out into the desert, bearing the sins of the people on its head. The first goat was known as the Lord’s Goat. The second—the Azazel—became known as the scapegoat. Because the scapegoat was sent away to perish, it came to represent any person blamed or punished for the sins of others, or to distract attention from the real cause of a crime. The Bible was replete with examples: Eve blamed for original sin, Jonah for a storm at sea. Barabbas, the thief, was allowed to live while Jesus, the Lord’s Goat, died for the sins of man. In the New Testament, Satan had become the scapegoat for God’s harsher side.