Anne swooped into the den and sat across from him. “Jack Hurley is coming to town on Monday.”

Anne’s brother-in-law was an FBI agent. “Welcome, Eliot Ness,” Pat mumbled, took a long sip, and scooped peanuts. “Is he coming to the house?”

“For dinner and to see us. Yes.”

“Wonderful. Where’s Dan?”

“Barricaded in his room.”

Pat ruminated on a handful of peanuts and took another swig. “How much did you put in this?”

Trying to wean him, she lied. “It’s strong.” It was half soda. “So I had jury duty today.”

“Oh. How are the criminals and the clients they represent?” Pat chuckled to himself.

“I got picked.”

“Christ. I told you to say you were religious. Picked for what?”

“The Standing Raleigh case.”

“The minister who choked his wife?”

“Allegedly.”

“That’s going to trial? I thought he confessed or something.”

“He was there in the courtroom.”

“Good Lord.” Pat finished his drink in a gulp and hobbled to the kitchen to make another. “How long is this circus going to be?”

“They didn’t say.”

“How did you let yourself get picked?”

“I didn’t volunteer. They called my name.”

“Everything I’ve read makes him out to be guilty as sin.”

“I’m not supposed to discuss it with anyone.”

“Jesus. This could take weeks. Were there reporters there?”

Just give me one ounce of support, Anne prayed, please. “They let us out the back way. But yes. The TV trucks were parked out front.”

“Crazy. Do you even have time for this? They have alternates, you know. Who’s gonna pick Dan up from school?”

Pat poured Smirnoff over ice. He opened the fridge, pretending to get the 7-Up, then lurched back into the den. “What kind of questions did they ask?”

“There was a questionnaire and a basic voir dire. They asked me if people can change.”

Annoyed, Pat stared out at the rainwater ponding on the back patio. He took a drink. “They most certainly cannot.”

Dinner was plated and the TV was supposed to go off, but Dan Rather was still on the air and the screen was split between him and a live feed of the well in Midland. A bunch of rig jockeys in gimme caps had sent a basket down the well to the operator in the tunnel.

“Looks like they’re getting closer,” Pat mumbled through a crunch of croutons. Anne dusted her salad in pepper. Lost in tired thoughts, Dan chewed and breathed through his nose. It was just after seven thirty now. Anne looked down at the salad, the pork chop, the potatoes and vegetables. It was all cooked right, but she was completely miserable about it and her worries laid siege. This baby, lost in darkness. She struggled to take a bite.

“Your mother is going to be on a jury. Did she tell you that?”

“No.” Dan made the briefest of eye contact with Anne.