I take his forearm, lead him into the hallway, and freeze. Twenty yards away, in the open front door, stand Judge Marston and his wife, Maude. The odds of getting through that door without anyone making a smart remark are zero. I drag Dad back toward the kitchen.

“Where the hell are we going now?”

“The back door’s closer to where I parked.”

“You saw Marston, didn’t you?”

He tries to pull free. I tighten my grip and hustle him toward the back door, knowing that if he really tries to resist me, I won’t be able to stop him.

“Goddamn it, I’m not running!”

“That’s right, you’re not. You’re taking the advice of your lawyer.”

“You’re not licensed in this state.”

“Actually, I took the Mississippi bar exam when I graduated, and I’ve paid the licensing fee every year.”

He is so distracted by this information that he allows himself to be pulled through a side garden to the street.

“Here’s the car.” I unlock my mother’s Maxima—the damaged BMW having been consigned to the garage—and practically push him into the driver’s seat.

He looks up at me, eyes anxious. “You felt Mackey out?”

“Yes. It was like feeling out a porcupine. We’re going to have to go the other way.”

“What other way?”

“We’re going to have to buy the gun.”

He blinks in disbelief. “Christ. Are you sure?”

“It’s the only way. I want you to call Ray Presley at ten in the morning. Tell him I’ll be at his place at ten-thirty. That doesn’t give him enough time to get the police involved.”

Dad looks down at the steering wheel. “Goddamn it, if anyone has to do this, it should be me.”

“You’ve been under Presley’s thumb too long. He’d never buy your bluff. Do you have a hundred thousand dollars liquid?”

He looks up, helpless with rage. “It’ll cost a fortune in penalties, but I can get it. And I won’t have a damn cent to pay the IRS in January.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back. But there’s no point in creating a paper trail to me yet. Have the money at your office as early as you can. I’ll pick it up. I may not offer Presley the whole hundred grand, but I need to be able to go up to that.”

He looks too dazed to keep track of this. “Well . . . get in. We’ll get it all figured out.”

“I’m not coming, Dad.”

“What?”

“I want to talk to Sam Jacobs about Presley. Sam knows everything that goes on in this town. Have you got everything straight?”

He takes a deep breath and nods slowly. “I’ll have the money waiting. Ray too.”