Chapter 9

They kept Roy in the gin office until the storm passed enough for Priddy to take him in. The guests trickled out in their cars, most of them too stunned to ask questions, a few of them already on their phones. By midnight, the gin hall was empty except for Mari, Eli, Marcus, the sheriff, and Delphine, who had sat down in the chair at the head of the table and hadn't moved since Clay left.

Priddy took Eli's statement in the office. He took Marcus's. He bagged the ledger and the fitting and put them in the cruiser. He read Roy his rights and Roy repeated, over and over, that he wanted a lawyer, and then he said, finally, that he'd killed his brother, and then he asked to call his sister.

Delphine didn't take the call.

At 12:40, Priddy put Roy in the back of the cruiser and drove him up the flooded gravel drive toward the county road. The tail lights disappeared around the cotton field.

Mari and Eli stood on the gin steps in the dark. Rain dripped off the eaves. The string lights had come back on after the generator was fixed, and they glowed in the wet air, casting everything in soft gold.

"You should go," Mari said. "You've been up since yesterday morning."

"I'll go in a minute."

"Eli."

"Let me stand here a minute."

She didn't argue. She took off her muddy shoes and set them on the step, then sat down. Eli sat next to her. The fitting was gone now-tagged and bagged-and his pocket felt strange without it.

"What happens now?" Mari asked.

"Roy gets a trial. Delphine gets charged as an accessory. The estate probably gets tied up for years." Eli looked at his hands. "I get a hearing. The conviction gets reviewed. I don't know if they'll vacate it, but it doesn't matter much now."

"It matters."

"It matters to you. That's more than it's mattered in a while."

Mari leaned her head back against the porch post. "Clay's gone. I'm not sure he'll even answer my calls."

"He will. He'll call to explain why it wasn't his fault."

She laughed-a small, tired sound. "You know him?"

"No. I just know men like him."

They sat in silence for a while. The storm had moved off east, and the sky over the cotton field was starting to clear. Somewhere in the dark a cicada started up again, the sound thin and constant.

"I lost everything tonight," Mari said. "The wedding, the estate, my grandmother-she's going to hate me for the rest of her life. She's going to tell everyone I ruined the family."

"You didn't ruin the family."

"I named you in front of seventy people."

"You told the truth in front of seventy people." Eli looked over at her. "There's a difference."

Mari was quiet for a second. Then she said, "Are you going to leave? Now that it's done?"

Eli thought about it. He'd been planning to leave since Saturday afternoon-get in his truck, drive back to Arkansas, let the law do what it would. That was the version of his life where he stayed safe and unknown. No parole risk. No Bellroses. No Mari.

But the fitting wasn't in his pocket anymore. The truth was out in the open. The door she'd opened when she mailed him that letter was still open, and he was standing in it.

"No," he said. "I'm going to stay."