Stone says nothing, but I can sense the conflict raging within him. “I know you worked with Portman on the Payton case in sixty-eight,” I tell him. “Why did you lie about that?”

“I was trying to protect people.”

“Who?”

“You, for one. Others too.”

“Well, I took your advice. I talked to the eyewitnesses, and I’ve placed Presley at the crime scene.”

“And?”

“I want Leo Marston, not Presley.”

“Squeeze Presley.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

Stone laughs softly. “Ray’s not very squeezable, is he? Son of a bitch tried to kill us on the highway to Jackson.”

“You’re the agent who got shot at on Highway 61?”

“Portman and me, if you can believe it. The world would be a lot nicer place if Presley had hit Portman that day.”

“Why? Goddamn it, what’s the big secret? What was so terrible that Hoover had to bury it under a national security seal? What’s Portman hiding? What could still scare you after thirty years?”

“Do you really expect me to answer that?”

“You’re damn right I do. It’s time you listened to your conscience, Stone.”

“Don’t preach to me, son. You haven’t earned the right.”

“If Ray Presley shot at you, why didn’t he go to jail for it?”

“He did.”

“Presley went to Parchman for drug trafficking. That’s a state prison.”

“Justice doesn’t always happen in a straight line. You should know that.”

I grip the phone with exasperation. “I’ve thought of a way to go after Marston without Presley’s help, but it’s a gamble. A big one. I can’t afford to be wrong.”

“What are you asking me, counselor?”

“Am I wrong about Leo Marston being behind the murder of Del Payton?”

Just as I decide Stone is not going to answer, he says, “You’re not wrong.”

A wave of triumph surges through me.

“But that doesn’t mean there’s evidence lying around waiting to be picked up,” he adds. “I don’t know how much I’d gamble on being able to prove it.”

“Did you prove it in sixty-eight?”

“Yes.”

“Then why wasn’t the son of a bitch prosecuted?”

“Oldest reason in the world. You just be damn sure about every step you take. This road doesn’t end where you think it does.”

“Hold on. Why are you willing to warn me, but not to help me?”

“I thought I just did. Good hunting, counselor.”

When I hang up, Caitlin grabs my arm, her eyes furious. “Why didn’t you tell me someone tried to kill Presley?”

“No one knew but my father, and he asked me not to tell.”

She takes a deep breath and expels it slowly. “What did Stone say?”