Ophelia watched him, wandering up to the other side of the tailgate and leaning in. Under a long black coat, she had on the familiar black pantsuit and cream silk top that was the uniform of her business. Even a little name tag on her right lapel. “Lillie didn’t say much of anything,” Ophelia said. “After you left, she and I stood there for a moment. She looked at everything I showed her. I asked her if she’d seen what she needed, and she just nodded and asked where to find the bathroom. I’m pretty sure she threw up.”

“That doesn’t sound like Lillie.”

Ophelia offered a weak smile from across the tailgate. She shrugged and looked back over her shoulder at the funeral home.

“You doing okay?” Quinn asked.

“I am,” she said. “Congrats on Halley. With you and Maggie as parents, she’s bound to be a pistol.”

“She is,” Quinn said. “Quick and observant as hell. Already taking in this whole crazy world.”

“Funny how that goes,” she said. “Isn’t it?”

“What’s that?”

“Life,” Ophelia said. “People are here and then they’re not. And then new people move in. Things change. Time comes and goes. But this town, this county, never seems to go anywhere.”

Quinn smiled at her and they locked eyes for a long moment.

“I don’t have any regrets,” she said.

“Me, either,” Quinn said.

Ophelia turned as Lillie walked fast across the parking lot, her black blazer billowing around her to show the silver Sig on her hip, a lit cigarette in hand. Quinn thought Lillie had quit smoking years ago.

“Jesus Fucking God,” Lillie said.

“Sorry to get you down here, Lil,” Quinn said.

“Wish I hadn’t had breakfast,” Lillie said. “Goddamn. Who the hell could do something like that?”

Quinn looked across the truck bed to Ophelia. Lillie hung on his tailgate like someone who’d gotten seasick and was trying to find their legs. She sucked on the cigarette and blew out a big plume of smoke. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face had gone pale.

“You sure it’s her?” Quinn asked.

“Goddamn right that’s Gina Byrd,” Lillie said. “I know.”

“Then you recognized it?” Ophelia said.

“Recognized what?” Quinn asked.

“Tattoo,” Lillie said. “Right hipbone. Gina got it when we were in eleventh grade. A goddamn bluebird. Ain’t that something?”

NINE

I know one damn thing,” said Ladarius’s cousin Domino, hand on her big hip, frown on her face, loaded with plenty of that Memphis attitude. “Y’all can’t stay here. I got enough legal problems of my own without y’all tracking bloody footprints into this house.”