SAIC Macklin nodded. Solomon couldn’t be sure he believed him. Macklin looked down at the black crowd outside the church. “They think it was retributive. A life for a life.”

Solomon said, “Wouldn’t you?”

Macklin glanced at the white crowd, nearer them. “I don’t know,” he said. “Killing kids is not usually how it’s done.”

Solomon could think of a handful of cases off the top of his head where that wasn’t true, but he let it stand. The less talking he did, the better.

“No sign of foul play, I’m told,” said Macklin. “The boy was sick? Wandered off?”

Solomon acutely felt the scratches under his collar, the bruises on his side and back. “Family’s refusing an autopsy.”

“That’s not good,” said Macklin. “That means the story will grow and grow. The sheriff can insist.”

Solomon said, “He can but he won’t. You think he wants something found? Something he’d have to go after?”

There was an exchange of words down the street, a colored man pointing at a handful of whites standing together, yelling back. Two deputies wandered over to quell it.

Macklin said, “Both sides spoiling for a fight. This goes any further, they’re going to get the National Guard in here to keep the peace.”

“You want peace kept?” said Solomon. “Or you want justice served?”

Macklin looked at Solomon. “I want you to talk to your people, put a lid on this grease fire.”

“They aren’t ‘my people,’” snapped Solomon, his stress level reaching a breaking point. “I don’t have control over them just because we look alike.”

Macklin said, “Easy now.”

Solomon wasn’t having it. “Am I a Negro or am I an FBI agent? Because anybody you ask thinks I’m the opposite and can’t be trusted. If I was brought down here because of some perceived advantage, being both—well, that backfired mightily.”

Solomon’s raised voice attracted the attention of Sheriff Ingalls, who ambled over. “There a problem over here?”

Solomon said, “You just walked over to the one place in this town where there isn’t a problem.”

Sheriff Ingalls frowned at Solomon’s tone. “Funny you should mention that. I got a complaint about you.”

Solomon said, “Oh?”

“Some fellers say you gave ’em a hard time out in the woods by the hanging site.”

Solomon looked past the sheriff to the crowd, focused on the eager-looking men standing in the front with cuts and scratches on their faces. “These gentlemen here?” said Solomon, pointing them out. “Why, I didn’t recognize them without their hoods on.”

Sheriff Ingalls was unfazed by the remark. “Between that and finding the sharecropper boy, you been spending quite a bit of time in those old woods.”