at the kitchen table. There’s a stack of pancakes in front of him, and the smell of bacon fills my nostrils. Both of them look at me in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” Caroline says.
I ignore her and walk straight to the table. “Where’s Tommy?” I say to Jack.
“What?”
“You heard me. Where’s Tommy? I saw him sleeping downstairs before I left.”
“I guess he went home.”
“Did you talk to him? What did he say?”
The questions I’m firing at Jack are quick, and the tone of my voice is intense. It’s not the kind of treatment he’s used to getting from me. Caroline walks over from the stove and sets a plate of scrambled eggs down on the table.
“What time did Tommy show up?”
“I don’t know,” Jack says. “Why are you so pissed off?”
“I asked you a question, and I want a straight answer. Now, what time did Tommy show up? ”
“Don’t yell at him,” Caroline says evenly.
“Stay out of this.”
Jack is looking at me with wide eyes. We haven’t exchanged a cross word since his first year in college when he got a little too deep into the Nashville party scene. Caroline doesn’t reply. She knows how I feel about Jack, and she knows I wouldn’t be acting this way without a good reason.
“I don’t know what time he got here,” Jack says, looking back down at his plate. “I woke up this morning and he was here. He was already awake.”
“Did you talk to him before he left?”
“Yeah, a little bit. He said he got hammered last night.”
“What time did he leave?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“What else did he say?”
“Not much. He was pretty quiet. I don’t think he felt good.”
“How did he look?”
“What do you mean, ‘How did he look?’ He looked like someone who buried his father yesterday and tried to drown the memory in a liquor bottle.”
“Did he look like he’d been in a fight?”
“I didn’t notice anything.”
“No cuts? No blood? No bruises?”
“Not that I saw. What’s going on, Dad?”
“What about his clothes? Did you see anything on his clothes?”
“Not really. I mean, he was wearing some of my clothes.”
“What the hell happened to his clothes?”
“I don’t know.”
I take a deep breath and sit down across from him. Caroline returns the pan to the stove and walks back to the table.
“You’d better sit down,” I say to her.
For the next few minutes, I describe to them the crime scene, how someone apparently planned the murder, lay in wait, then brutally assaulted, hanged, and burned a man. When I’m finished, I stare straight at Jack.
“They haven’t positively identified the body yet. But there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind who it is.”
“Who?” Caroline asks.
“It’s Judge Green.” I’m still staring at Jack. “And Tommy Miller is at the top of their list of suspects. The TBI is going to be crawling all over this.”
Jack’s face slowly turns pale, as though a valve has been opened and has drained every bit of blood from above his shoulders. Suddenly he stands.
“I’m going to be sick,” he says, and he sprints for the bathroom.
15
Caroline and I sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the retching from the bathroom echo off the walls down the hall.
“You don’t really think Tommy did it,” Caroline says.
“It’s possible.”
“But you knew Ray. You know Tommy. You’re his friend, Joe.”
“Not if he committed a murder and brought it to my doorstep. That’s not my idea of friendship.”
“Tommy didn’t kill anyone, and you know it. They’re just going after Tommy because of what happened with Ray.”
“Oh, they’re going after him, all right. You can count on that. My guess is Special Agent Anita White will be knocking on his door within the hour.”
Caroline stands and starts walking toward the counter. She picks up the telephone.
“Then I’m calling Toni,” Caroline says. “I have to warn her.”
I get up and walk toward her, holding out my
“What are you doing here?” Caroline says.
I ignore her and walk straight to the table. “Where’s Tommy?” I say to Jack.
“What?”
“You heard me. Where’s Tommy? I saw him sleeping downstairs before I left.”
“I guess he went home.”
“Did you talk to him? What did he say?”
The questions I’m firing at Jack are quick, and the tone of my voice is intense. It’s not the kind of treatment he’s used to getting from me. Caroline walks over from the stove and sets a plate of scrambled eggs down on the table.
“What time did Tommy show up?”
“I don’t know,” Jack says. “Why are you so pissed off?”
“I asked you a question, and I want a straight answer. Now, what time did Tommy show up? ”
“Don’t yell at him,” Caroline says evenly.
“Stay out of this.”
Jack is looking at me with wide eyes. We haven’t exchanged a cross word since his first year in college when he got a little too deep into the Nashville party scene. Caroline doesn’t reply. She knows how I feel about Jack, and she knows I wouldn’t be acting this way without a good reason.
“I don’t know what time he got here,” Jack says, looking back down at his plate. “I woke up this morning and he was here. He was already awake.”
“Did you talk to him before he left?”
“Yeah, a little bit. He said he got hammered last night.”
“What time did he leave?”
“About ten minutes ago.”
“What else did he say?”
“Not much. He was pretty quiet. I don’t think he felt good.”
“How did he look?”
“What do you mean, ‘How did he look?’ He looked like someone who buried his father yesterday and tried to drown the memory in a liquor bottle.”
“Did he look like he’d been in a fight?”
“I didn’t notice anything.”
“No cuts? No blood? No bruises?”
“Not that I saw. What’s going on, Dad?”
“What about his clothes? Did you see anything on his clothes?”
“Not really. I mean, he was wearing some of my clothes.”
“What the hell happened to his clothes?”
“I don’t know.”
I take a deep breath and sit down across from him. Caroline returns the pan to the stove and walks back to the table.
“You’d better sit down,” I say to her.
For the next few minutes, I describe to them the crime scene, how someone apparently planned the murder, lay in wait, then brutally assaulted, hanged, and burned a man. When I’m finished, I stare straight at Jack.
“They haven’t positively identified the body yet. But there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind who it is.”
“Who?” Caroline asks.
“It’s Judge Green.” I’m still staring at Jack. “And Tommy Miller is at the top of their list of suspects. The TBI is going to be crawling all over this.”
Jack’s face slowly turns pale, as though a valve has been opened and has drained every bit of blood from above his shoulders. Suddenly he stands.
“I’m going to be sick,” he says, and he sprints for the bathroom.
15
Caroline and I sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to the retching from the bathroom echo off the walls down the hall.
“You don’t really think Tommy did it,” Caroline says.
“It’s possible.”
“But you knew Ray. You know Tommy. You’re his friend, Joe.”
“Not if he committed a murder and brought it to my doorstep. That’s not my idea of friendship.”
“Tommy didn’t kill anyone, and you know it. They’re just going after Tommy because of what happened with Ray.”
“Oh, they’re going after him, all right. You can count on that. My guess is Special Agent Anita White will be knocking on his door within the hour.”
Caroline stands and starts walking toward the counter. She picks up the telephone.
“Then I’m calling Toni,” Caroline says. “I have to warn her.”
I get up and walk toward her, holding out my
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