Thornfield shook his head violently. “You’re crazy, Doc. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. I wouldn’t live twenty-four hours if I tried something like that.” Thornfield was panting for air. “Besides, Snake could just turn around and say I killed her! It’d be my word against his.”

Walt grabbed Thornfield’s chin and jerked his head straight.

“You’ve got the wrong idea,” Tom said. “Have you ever heard the expression ‘Lay the sins of the living at the feet of the dead’?”

Sonny blinked in confusion. Tom was about to explain further when Thornfield doubled over and vomited. “Doc, my chest feels like it’s locking up. My heart’s skipping something terrible.”

“Your heart’s smarter than you are,” Walt said.

Thornfield hugged himself and sought out Tom’s eyes, speaking like a fawning sycophant. “Come on, Doc. Ain’t no jury round here gonna convict you. Every nigger round here thinks you walk on water. Just tell ’em you put the old lady out of her misery!”

Tom lowered his head, trying to think of a way to break through Thornfield’s fear and stupidity. “Sonny, I’m trying to give you a way out of this that keeps us all out of jail. Will you listen to what I’m saying?”

“He’s not listening,” Walt said. “He’s putting on a show. I say put one in his head and let him take the fall. That’s the quickest solution, and I want you clear of this mess before anybody figures out you’ve jumped bail.”

Tom shook his head, wondering if Walt was just trying to scare Thornfield, or if he really meant what he’d said.

Thornfield leaned against a cabinet and moaned in what sounded like real pain. Tom had a wealth of experience with malingering, and this didn’t look like it. “Walt—”

“Quiet,” Garrity said with sudden urgency.

The old Ranger had gone so still that both Tom and Sonny stared at him in alarm. Walt shut off the torch and scrambled to the front window of the van, which he’d earlier blocked with a sun shield.

“State police!” he hissed, peering out through a crack.

Tom felt his heart lurch, and then the cold sweat of imminent combat covered his skin.

Thornfield started laughing, a hysterical undercurrent in his voice. “I never thought I’d be glad to see the goddamn cops!”

“Shut him up!” Walt snapped. “I’ll deal with this, but he can’t make a sound.”

“How do I do that?” Tom asked.

“Either drug him senseless, or I’ll sap him.”

A lead-weighted sap could easily kill the old Eagle. As Tom grabbed for the drugs in his bag, he heard an engine outside the van. Then came the slow screech of brake pads. A car had stopped outside. With shaking hands, Tom filled a syringe with Valium.

“Hold his arm, Walt!”