Tom shook himself from Walt’s grasp and checked Thornfield’s pulse at the neck. It was thready, and the skin above the artery felt cool. “We need to get him to a hospital.”

“A hospital?” Walt gawked at Tom. “We can’t even take you to a hospital. You think we’re gonna take this piece of shit, after what we just did?”

Tom had already taken a vial of epinephrine from his bag and loaded a syringe. “He’s not going to tell anybody about that. Snake would kill Sonny if he knew we’d questioned him. Come on, Walt. Get us back to Ferriday!”

Walt didn’t move as Tom injected the epinephrine into Thornfield’s vein. “You realize he may have seen everything. Outside.”

Tom thought about it. “I don’t think he did.”

“But you can’t be sure. Even seeing the body would be enough to put us in the death house at Angola.”

Walt was right, and this knowledge chilled Tom. “What do you want to do?”

“Leave him here,” Walt said flatly. “I can stage this thing where it looks like they shot each other, and the cops’ll find the syringe and vials besides. We’ll be clear of this thing, and you’ll be clear of Viola. It’s the only answer, Tom.”

Sonny groaned and clenched his left arm with his right fist.

Tom turned and looked up into Walt’s hardened eyes. “You’re talking about shooting him.”

“He’s dying anyway.”

Walt was still carrying the trooper’s shotgun, and it lent him a frighteningly lethal aspect. “We can’t,” Tom said. “I can’t.”

“This is no time to get religion, partner. Think of your family.”

Tom did. And he understood why Walt was so ready to sacrifice Sonny Thornfield. Along with his fellow Double Eagles, this man had hurt and killed more innocent people than they knew. If Sonny died here (his death staged by Walt’s expert hands), and Tom left the syringe and vials behind, they could remove the threat of prosecution for Viola’s murder and probably get off the hook for the dead trooper’s death as well. With so much pain hanging in the balance for his family (and for Walt, who wouldn’t even be in this mess if he hadn’t driven hundreds of miles to help Tom), how much of a crime would that be? Was the life of a rapist and killer too high a price to pay for life and freedom? For a chance to make amends to those people he had failed so miserably?