“I do. When morning comes, there won’t be anything left but three empty houses. There’ll be some hullabaloo, of course. The FBI will run all over town like ants in a stepped-on pile. But meanwhile, Forrest will quietly spread the word that your family went into witness protection somewhere. And you know what? Folks will believe it. They’ll figure they were right all along—Doc Cage couldn’t have really killed anybody! Yeah, they’ll figure that whole story of him being a fugitive was some kind of cover story.”

“What kind of cover story? That’s ridiculous.”

Royal purses his lips like a storyteller asked to make up a good one on the spot. “I’m thinking Sonny Thornfield might disappear tonight as well. Maybe Snake Knox with him. Those two have had their runs. And Agent Kaiser has declared the Double Eagles a domestic terror group. And then there are those rumors that Snake’s been claiming he killed Martin Luther King. Yes … I think that story’s got legs, Mayor. And I think the more loudly the Bureau denies it, the more people will believe it.”

He’s right …

Brody stares at me as he might at a wayward nephew. “You still don’t understand, do you? I built what I have from nothing. From that godforsaken levee where my mother ate raw pig. Hundreds of people depend on me now. Thousands. And you want to tear all that down because a couple of niggers forgot their place forty years ago? It defies understanding. Hell, Cage, not even the FBI was working those cases until Henry started embarrassing them in the newspaper every week!”

He turns away, rubbing his chin in silence.

“Now?” Regan asks eagerly.

Royal holds up one hand, then turns slowly around the firing range and focuses on me again. “You know the tragic irony of all this? It’s only happening because of your father. All of it. All these deaths go back to him.”

I blink in confusion. “What?”

“Back in the gun room you asked me if I killed Viola. Well, I didn’t, as a matter of fact. I would have, thirty-seven years ago.” Brody steps to within inches of my face, his eyes gleaming like those of an old lecher. “I’ll tell you this: she was a sweet piece, boy. I had my taste out at a machine shop in the woods. Snake and his boys had her tied to a worktable, taking turns. I wore a hood while I took mine, just to be safe, but I could sure see her. My God … like a brown-skinned angel she was. But Snake had said too much in front of her, and she needed to die.”

Caitlin is watching Brody with visceral hatred.

“That’s ancient history,” I say in a shaky voice. “Who killed her?”