Instead of walking to the door, Leo gives me the superior stare I’ve received in the private chambers of a dozen judges. “The trial’s tomorrow,” he says in a peremptory voice. “I’m going to give you one last opportunity to save face, and to help this town. Call your little tart at the newspaper and get her to print a public apology for the remarks you made about me. A full apology from you, and a retraction from the paper. If that’s printed tomorrow I’ll dismiss the suit.”

His offer leaves me dumbfounded. There can be only one reason for it. He’s running scared.

“I don’t see your lips moving,” Leo says. “You’d better jump while you can. The offer’s good for sixty seconds.”

“Dwight Stone is alive,” I think aloud. “And neither you nor Portman can find him.”

His face remains impassive. “Fifty seconds.”

A wicked elation flows through me. “You can stick that offer right up your ass. Tomorrow—”

All of us turn at the sound of the door.

Ray Presley is standing in the study, aiming a revolver at Leo’s chest. It looks like a .357 Magnum. He’s abandoned his pajamas in favor of Levis, Redwing boots, and a black western shirt. Only the John Deere cap remains the same. The vulpine eyes burn from beneath its bill just as they did the day I bought my father’s .38 back from him.

“Evening, Judge,” he says.

Presley looks like he’s lost ten pounds since I saw him last. He’s still ropy and tough, but he seems diminished somehow. Imagining him raping Livy is almost beyond me, he looks so much older than she now. Yet Livy has backed against the wall opposite me like a frightened girl, like she’s trying to become her own shadow.

“I’m not armed, Ray, ” Leo says from behind his desk, but I see that he’s holding Ike’s Sig-Sauer behind him.

“Throw that Sig on the floor, Judge,” Presley says like a chiding parent. “I saw it in your hand when I came in.”

Marston knows better than to try to raise the gun and fire before Ray can pull his trigger. He tosses Ike’s gun onto the floor at Presley’s feet.

“I saw the boys outside too,” Presley says, his voice almost friendly. “You knew I was coming, didn’t you?”

“Ray—”

“Anybody makes a move, it’s their last,” Presley says, glancing at me. “I hit what I aim at.”

“Like Ike Ransom?” I say.

He smiles. “That nigger talk any before he died?”

“Enough.”

“You lookin’ to get killed too, college boy?”

“Fuck you, Ray.”

The smile disappears. “I came here to kill one, but I can kill three just as easy and damn near as quick.” He motions toward Livy and me. “You two come here. Stay right in front of me, backs to me.”