“Patty,” he said. “Maryellen. Join us?”

They allowed themselves to be led inside. Kitty wiped tears from her cheeks, face flushed. Slick stared at the floor between her and Leland and he glared at her, both of them holding very, very still. Grace made a point of studying the framed photo of Patricia’s family hanging over the fireplace. Bennett looked past them all, through the sun porch windows, out over the marsh.

“Ladies,” Carter said. Clearly the other men had elected him their spokesman. “We need to have a serious talk.”

Patricia tried to slow her breathing. It had gotten high and shallow and her throat felt like it was swelling closed. She glanced at Carter and saw how much anger he carried in his eyes. “There aren’t enough chairs for everyone,” she said. “We should get some of the dining room chairs.”

“I’ll get them,” Horse said, and moved to the dining room.

Bennett went with him, and the men hauled chairs into the living room and there was only the clattering of furniture as everyone arranged themselves. Horse sat next to Kitty on the sofa, holding her hand, and Leland leaned against the door to the hall. Ed sat backward in a dining room chair, like someone playing a policeman on TV. Carter sat directly across from Patricia, adjusting the crease in his dress pants, the cuffs of his jacket, putting his professional face on over his real face.

Maryellen tried to regain the initiative.

“If the detectives aren’t coming,” she said, “I’m not sure why you’re all here.”

“Ed came to us,” Carter said. “Because he heard some alarming things and rather than risk y’all embarrassing yourselves in front of the police and doing serious damage to both yourselves and to your families, he did the responsible thing and brought it to our attention.”

“What you have to say about James Harris is libelous and slanderous,” Leland cut in. “You could have gotten me sued into oblivion. What were you even thinking, Slick? You could have ruined everything. Who wants to work with a developer who accuses his investors of dealing drugs to children?”

Slick lowered her head.

“I’m sorry, Leland,” she said to her lap. “But children—”

“‘On the day of judgment,’” Leland quoted, “‘people will give account for each careless word they speak.’ Matthew 12:36.”

“Do you even want to know what we have to say?” Patricia asked.

“We got the gist,” Carter said.

“No,” Patricia said. “If you haven’t heard what we have to say, then you have no right to tell us who we can and can’t speak to. We’re not our mothers. This isn’t the 1920s. We’re not some silly biddies sitting around sewing all day and gossiping. We’re in the Old Village more than any of you, and something is very wrong here. If you had any respect for us at all, you’d listen.”

“If you’ve got so much free time, go after the criminals in the White House,” Leland said. “Don’t fabricate one down the street.”

“Let’s all slow down,” Carter said, a gentle smile on his lips. “We’ll listen. It can’t hurt and who knows, maybe we’ll learn something?”

Patricia ignored the calm, medical-professional tone of his voice. If this was his bluff, she’d call it.

“Thank you, Carter,” she said. “I would like to speak.”

“You’re speaking for everyone?” Carter asked.

“It was Patricia’s idea,” Kitty said, from the safety of Horse’s side.

“Yes,” Grace said.

“So tell us,” Carter said. “Why do you believe that James Harris is some master criminal?”

It took a moment for her blood to stop singing in her ears and settle to a duller roar. She inhaled deeply and looked around the room. She saw Leland staring at her with his face stretched taut, practically shimmering with rage, his hands jammed deep in his pockets. Ed studied her the way policemen on TV watched criminals dig themselves in deeper. Bennett stared out the windows behind her at the marsh, face neutral. Carter watched her, wearing his most tolerant smile, and she felt herself shrinking in her chair. Only Horse looked at her with anything approaching kindness.

Patricia released her breath and looked down at Grace’s outline, shaking in her hands.

“James Harris, as you all know, moved here around April. His great-aunt, Ann Savage, was in poor health and he took care of her. When she attacked me, we believe that she was on whatever drugs he’s dealing. We think he’s selling them in Six Mile.”

“Based on what?” Ed asked. “What evidence? What arrests? Have you seen him selling drugs there?”

“Let her finish,” Maryellen said.

Carter held out a hand and Ed stopped.

“Patricia.” Carter smiled. She looked up. “Put your paper down. Tell us in your own words. Relax, we’re all interested in what you have to say.”

He held out his hand, and Patricia couldn’t help herself. She handed him Grace’s outline. He folded it in thirds and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

“We think that he gave this drug,” Patricia said, forcing herself to see Grace’s outline in her head, “to Orville Reed and Destiny Taylor. Orville Reed killed himself. Destiny Taylor is still alive, for now. But before they died they claimed to have met a white man in the woods who gave them something that made them sick. There was also Sean Brown, Orville’s cousin, who was involved in drugs, according to the police. He was found dead in the same woods where the children went, during the same period. In addition, Mrs. Greene saw a van with the same license plate as James Harris’s in Six Mile during the time this was all happening.”

“Did it have the exact same license plate number?” Ed asked.

“Mrs. Greene only wrote down the last part, X 13S, but James Harris’s license plate is TNX 13S,” Patricia said. “James Harris claims he got rid of that van, but he’s keeping it in the Pak Rat Mini-Storage on Highway 17 and has taken it out a few times, mostly at night.”

“Unbelievable,” Leland said.

“Sean Brown was involved in the drug trade, and we think James Harris killed him in a horrible way to teach other drug dealers a lesson,” Patricia said. “Ann Savage died with what you’d call track marks on the inside of her thigh. Destiny Taylor had something similar. James Harris must have injected something into them. We believe that if you examine Orville Reed’s body you’ll find the same mark.”

“That’s very interesting,” Carter said, and Patricia felt herself getting smaller with every word he spoke. “But I’m not sure it tells us anything.”

“The track marks link Destiny Taylor and Ann Savage,” Patricia said, remembering Maryellen’s advice during one of their rehearsals. “James Harris’s van was seen in Six Mile even though he says he’s never been to Six Mile. His van is no longer at his house, but he’s keeping it in Pak Rat Mini-Storage. Orville Reed’s cousin was killed because of what’s going on. Destiny Taylor suffers from the same symptoms as Orville Reed did before he killed himself. We don’t think you should wait for Destiny Taylor to follow his example. We believe that while this evidence is circumstantial, there is a preponderance of it.”

Maryellen, Kitty, and Slick all looked from Patricia to the men, waiting for their reaction. They gave none. Thrown, Patricia took a sip of water, then decided to try something they hadn’t rehearsed.

“Francine was Ann Savage’s cleaning woman,” she said. “She went missing in May of this year. The day she went missing, I saw her pull up in front of James Harris’s house to clean.”

“Did you see her go inside?” Ed asked.

“No,” Patricia said. “She was reported missing and the police think she went somewhere with a man, but, well, you have to know Francine to realize that’s—”

Leland’s voice rang out loud and clear. “I’m going to stop you right there. Does anyone need to hear more of this nonsense?”

“But, Leland—” Slick began.

“No, Slick,” Leland snapped.

“Would you ladies be open to hearing another perspective?” Carter asked.

Patricia hated his psychiatric voice and his rhetorical questions, but she nodded out of habit.

“Of course,” she said.

“Ed?” Carter prompted.

“I ran that license plate number you gave me,” Ed said to Maryellen. “It belongs to James Harris, Texas address, no criminal record except a few minor traffic violations. You told me it belonged to a man Horse and Kitty’s girl was dating.”

“Honey’s dating this guy?” Horse asked in a shocked voice.

“No, Horse,” Maryellen said. “I made that up to get Ed to run the plates.”

Kitty rubbed Horse’s back as he shook his head, dumbfounded.

“I’ll tell you,” Ed said. “I’m always happy to help out a friend, but I was pretty damn embarrassed to meet James Harris thinking he was a cradle robber. It was a cock-up of a conversation until I realized I’d been played for a fool.”

“You met him?” Patricia asked.

“We had a conversation,” Ed said.