Mrs. Mason laid a hand on Raul the terrier’s quivering head and said, “My brother, George, tells me the gossip down at the bar is the same. Men there’re saying the cops just need one good piece of evidence to pin on Reynolds. That’s all it’ll take.”

“But that’s absurd,” Paulette said. “Jamal’s the gentlest soul on this earth. Dylan told me so himself.”

“What about KT Staler?” Joel said.

“Oh, he’s running scared of Reynolds.” Mrs. Malacek spoke almost in a whisper. “The Chamber of Commerce has been chewing on it all week—Mr. Evers told my Peter that if his guess is right, the Staler boy knows enough to get out of town while he can. All the evidence adds up, the Chamber says.”

Joel and his mother exchanged baffled glances.

“I heard—” Mrs. Mason began, but was racked again by a long yawn.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?” Joel asked her, something stirring in his foggy mind.

Now it was the women’s turns to exchange looks. “Sometimes the lights are just wrong,” Mrs. Mason said, shrugging as if this made perfect sense.

Before Joel could ask her what she meant, Mrs. Malacek cut in with a nod. “The whole town is grieving.”

Joel helped Paulette gather the coffee things onto a tray. He couldn’t keep from noticing that the ladies who were so concerned for his mother’s well-being hadn’t bothered to tidy up their mess.

“You realize when Mrs. Malacek says ‘her Peter’ she’s talking about the mayor, don’t you, Joel?”

“‘The gentlest soul on earth.’ Dylan really said that about Jamal?”

“To that effect. Christ, the sheriff’s department is hopeless. That fat deputy who arrested you fell off a horse so well it turned him from a pig into a vegetable—did you hear that?”

Joel’s stomach turned over at the thought of Deputy Grissom. “I heard.”

“The sheriffs must be up a real creek if they’re trying to hang this on Jamal goddamn Reynolds.”

Paulette made to lift the tray from the table but it slipped from her fingers. Cups scattered. Coffee threw itself over the carpet. Joel’s mother took one look at the mess and dropped herself to the sofa with a little wail of fury.

He took her hand in both of his. He sat with her a long time while she trembled all over. He was surprised to see that for the third day his mother still refused to weep.

A few words finally escaped her.

“You were right, you know. Years ago. There’s something wrong with this place.”

Joel watched her face, said nothing. He had a feeling of what was coming.

Paulette turned her eyes from the coffee at her feet to the son in front of her. She laced her fingers through his so hard he thought the knuckles might snap loose.

“Promise me you’ll fix this, Joel,” she whispered. “Don’t let them do to Dylan what they did to you.”

Joel met her eye. The truth was she didn’t even need to ask. Joel knew he wouldn’t be going back to New York anytime soon. He’d grieve later. Call it guilt, call it revenge, call it settling old debts: Joel had unfinished business in this town.