Pastor looked awful. His skin was gray, his face screwed up in pain, his body trembling. A new abrasion on his head was bleeding. “Good. What a disgusting man.”

“Yeah, well. Listen . . . you could have died. I could have died. And with Coleen gone . . .”

“You’d have no way to let my banker know if I had died,” Pastor said sadly.

His banker. Whose name Barkley had known. If Pastor didn’t tell him soon, he’d make the bitch talk. “Exactly. It doesn’t make sense for your banker to have no way of knowing that he should execute your will.”

Pastor shook his head. “You really are a moron. If I die, I won’t be calling my banker. In a week, he’ll know. And if there is any hint that you killed me? He knows to revoke your inheritance. You don’t fool anyone. You never returned to Eden. Coleen told me last night.”

DJ sat motionless, seething. “She promised she wouldn’t.”

Pastor laughed. “You know what’s funny? I didn’t believe her. I told her I needed proof. You gave that to me just now.”

Rage bubbled and flowed, red tingeing the edges of DJ’s vision. “I could kill you now.”

“But you won’t,” Pastor said confidently. “You’re still that little boy whose daddy didn’t love him enough. I didn’t think Waylon would actually let me have you after my Bo and Bernie died, but he always surprised me. He was a doormat. He’d do what I said, so I’d up the ante, thinking surely he wouldn’t keep obeying. I told him to divorce his wife so that I could marry her. And he did. He did everything I ever told him to do.”

DJ stared at him. “Why? Why did you hate him?”

“Oh my. Of course I didn’t hate him,” Pastor said, making DJ feel like the question had no basis in logic whatsoever. “He was like a puppy. Making him dance to whatever tune I played?” He shrugged, grimacing in pain. “It was fun at first.”

“But you were friends.”

“No, he wasn’t my friend. He was useful.”

DJ wanted to strike back. Wanted to make this old man hurt. “Your wife loved him.”

That was a direct hit. “But she married me. And she stayed with me.”

“Until she left you.”

The old man flinched. “She died,” Pastor said defensively. “Waylon found their remains.”

“Like he found Gideon’s remains?”

“Gideon is dead.”

“No, he’s not. He’s alive. He’s an FBI agent. And he’s looking for you.”

Twin flags of red appeared on Pastor’s pale cheeks as his breathing grew labored, and it occurred to DJ that he might not have to kill the old man after all. He might have a heart attack or a stroke, like Coleen had feared. “You’re lying. Your father would never have lied to me.”

DJ laughed. “I gave you my sat phone. It’s got a signal. Look him up.”

Hands shaking, Pastor did. His nostrils flared. “What is this?”