"Your father never…?" Virgil let the sentence fragment hang out there, instead of asking, "sexually molested you?"

Wendy took just a second to catch on, and then said, "Oh, no. No, no. Nothing like that."

"Never?"

"No. There was a time when I was thirteen, or twelve, I got kind of a bad feeling about him, like he was watching me, so I was kind of careful around him for a while. But nothing ever happened. Ever."

"What about with the Deuce?"

She smiled ruefully. "He liked to spy on me. You know, when I was coming out of the bathroom, peeking in my window and stuff. I didn't mind so much-he never did anything, either. He's really shy."

"What's your dad's relationship to the Deuce? He's seems to be pointing us at him."

She shook her head. "I don't know. He used to spank us both, because he believed in discipline. But Mom would jump in… After she was gone, he beat up the Deuce pretty bad, a couple of times. That stopped a few years ago, when the Deuce started fighting back. It looked like maybe… like maybe Dad was taking on more than he could handle."

THEY SAT around for a minute, then Virgil asked, "Has your father ever talked to you about not leaving?"

She nodded. "Oh, yeah. He came from this really poor family-I mean, really poor. He had this brother who died young, supposedly of a heart problem, but Dad told me once that he thought it was because he didn't have enough to eat when he was a boy. There were times when they went hungry. They had a welfare program back then, where the government would give people peanut butter and lard and that kind of stuff. Leftover stuff, when the farmers grew too much. He said there were months when they ate peanut butter for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He can't even stand the smell of it anymore."

She trailed off, and Virgil, trying to keep her rolling, said, "I can understand that."

She nodded. "Anyway, after high school he was a shovel man for another septic tank construction company, then he went in the army and learned heavy equipment. He was in for six years, saved every dime he could, and when he got out, he put a down payment on a Bobcat and then… he worked and worked, and he met Mom and got married, and Mom worked and worked, all the time, and they finally got the business going. He doesn't think the Deuce can handle it; he wants me to. He thinks if I go running off to Nashville or somewhere, the business will…"

She shrugged.

"Go down the toilet," Zoe said.

"Not funny," Wendy snapped. To Virgil: "But I don't want to do it. I don't want to spend my life pushing some goddamned Bobcat around, or doing the office work for a bunch of rednecks."

"SO, why're you telling me this?" Virgil asked.

" ' Cause if Dad did it, they should stop him," Wendy said. "And the Deuce… the Deuce can't help the way he is. Dad made him that way. After Mom ran off with Hector, it was like I was the mom, and I had to take care of the Deuce. Stand between him and Dad, as much as I could."

"The Deuce is what? Four or five years younger than you?"

"Seven," Wendy said. "You know, I think they'd kill him in prison. I think being in prison, in a cage, might kill him, all by itself. But he seems to attract attention… from people who like to make fun of him. If he went to prison, he'd die there, or get killed there. And it's not right, if he didn't do it."

"No, it isn't," Virgil said.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. If Slibe did it, and the Deuce was innocent, they had major problems. Once the police arrested somebody for a crime, it became almost impossible to convict somebody else, without a perfect, watertight case. Given the standard for a conviction-guilty beyond a reasonable doubt-a defense attorney would beat them to death with a prior arrest: "If you're so sure X is guilty, why'd you arrest Y two days before?"

They might be able to slide around that, since the two people involved were closely related, so the same evidence could point at either of them, but it'd be tough; especially if the only thing that pointed at Slibe was a "maybe" sighting.

Although he thought she was right about the truck…

He opened his eyes and asked Wendy, "What would you say if you hit your dad with the accusation that he was there, with his truck, and he said, 'No, I wasn't. I was over at Joe Blow's house'?"

"Well, then… I guess I'd believe it," Wendy said. "Especially if Joe Blow backed him up. I'm not absolutely sure it was Dad's truck. I just thought so. At the time."

"Man. That's really soft," Virgil said. He leaned forward. "What would you think of the idea of wearing a wire… a microphone… and accusing him of killing Erica? Tell him about seeing the truck, see what he says? We could be right there, outside, if he tried anything."

"Ohhh, God." She brushed her fingers through her hair. "That would really be… traitorous, wouldn't it? He'd never forgive me, even if he's innocent. I mean, when Mom turned traitor, he never got over it. He did nothing but work, and come home and do the garden, and clean the house, and feed us kids. All the stuff that he used to do, plus all the stuff that Mom used to do, and then go to bed and get up and do it all over again."

"I can't think of what else to do but the wire," Virgil said. "Especially if that blood comes back as belonging to Jud Windrow. That points right at the Deuce. And I gotta tell you, honey, a singing career is looking pretty distant, if it turns out that your old man kills everybody who tries to help you along."

She said, "I've got to think about it."

"Think quick," Virgil said.

Zoe said to Wendy, "We could talk about it. Kick Virgil out, work through it together."

VIRGIL THOUGHT it might be a while. He called the sheriff and asked him for a couple of deputies. "I'm going out to talk to Slibe and I'd just as soon not be alone."

"I can understand that, what with his son being all shot up," Sanders said. "I'm up in Bigfork again. Swing on by the office; I'll have a couple guys waiting."

VIRGIL AND TWO DEPUTIES went out to talk to Slibe; but Slibe wasn't home. The dogs were fed and watered and happy, but the house, the loft, and the trailer were all empty, and Slibe's truck was gone.

When Virgil called Zoe, to get a verdict on the idea of bugging Wendy and having her talk to Slibe, Zoe said, "Bad news on that. Slibe called and she went out to meet him."

"Meet him? Zoe, if he's the killer, and they get alone-"

"They were meeting at Dick Raab's office," Zoe said.

"Who's he?"

"An attorney," Zoe said. "Probably the best one in town. Slibe told her it's time to shut up and save the family."

"Aw, that really makes my day," Virgil said.

"You want to know something?" Zoe said. "I think Wendy likes me again."

"Aww…"

VIRGIL CALLED SANDERS and told him they needed to get together with Phillips, the county attorney. "Trouble?" Sanders asked.

"Maybe," Virgil said.

THEY MET IN SANDERS'S OFFICE. Phillips looked unhappy; an older man sat in a corner with a carefully neutral expression on his face.

"Bob said there might be trouble," Phillips said, as soon as Virgil walked in.

Sanders nodded at Virgil, then gestured at the older man: "This is my dad, Ken Sanders. He was the sheriff here before me. Half the people in the county still think they're voting for him."

Virgil and Ken Sanders shook hands, and Virgil sat down and said, "I talked to Wendy Ashbach. She doesn't think the Deuce did it; she thinks her old man did."

He told them about the discussion with Zoe and Wendy, and about Slibe calling, and about the meeting with Dick Raab, the attorney. Ken Sanders looked skeptical, while his son and Phillips tended toward apoplexy.

"She's telling us now?" Phillips exploded. "After another woman is shot, and another guy disappears, and her brother gets shot up?"