I felt like he’d punched me. Tears gathered behind my eyes. I blinked and swallowed and willed them not to fall.

“Fine,’’ I finally said, grateful when my voice didn’t crack. “If that’s what you want.’’

“I think it is.’’

Carlos reached over and gently brushed a bit of hair from my eyes. I could see him all too clearly as he turned and walked away.

My heart was in my stomach, and my stomach was in my throat. I felt like I’d come down with the flu, and then got hit by a train. I’d thought I was over Carlos before he showed up on the Cracker Trail; but it turned out he could still put a lot of hurtin’ on me.

I wandered over to the bright lights of the dinner site, thinking maybe there would be a soda or some hot tea to help settle my stomach. The first person I saw there was Trey. He’d stuck a nearly empty beer bottle in the back pocket of his jeans. Now, he was helping himself to the coffee Johnny had put out before dinner.

Watching him, I felt a blush creeping up my face. I wished I hadn’t seen what I saw between him and Wynonna at the RV. But as long as I had, I wanted to know: What the heck was up with that?

Trey swayed a little as he reached for the sugar. I could smell the booze on him. Drowning his guilt, no doubt.

“Hey, Trey.’’ I came up next to him. “How you doin’?’’

His eyes were bloodshot. His clothes were rumpled. He needed a shave. Trey looked like thirty miles of bad road.

“Mace,’’ he said, barely moving his lips.

“Looks like you can use that coffee.’’

He nodded, and winced from the motion.

“I’m sorry to see you drinking again.’’

“Me, too.’’

“You want to have a seat and talk about it?’’

“Not really.’’

“Well, I do. And this isn’t the kind of conversation you’re going to want overheard.’’

I led him to an out-of-the-way, dimly lit spot. He carefully placed his coffee cup on the grass. Reaching around, he extracted the beer bottle from his back pocket and dropped it on the ground. We sat, propping our backs against a big rock.

When we were settled, I said, “Austin and I happened to be on our way a little earlier tonight to see Wynonna. We saw her, Trey. With you.’’

I had to admire his control. Even half-drunk, his only reaction was a twitch in his jaw.

“So? We’re burying Daddy next week. Wynonna and I have a lot of details to discuss.’’

“You weren’t discussing much. You were on the steps to the RV, and you had your hands all over each other. Then she tugged you inside by your belt and shut the door. Was that when y’all started talking about your daddy’s funeral?’’

He flinched.

“I gotta say, it doesn’t look good, Trey. I have to tell the sheriff what I saw.’’

His mouth got hard. “What business is it of his? Or of yours? My troubles with Wynonna don’t have nuthin’ to do with Doc getting shot.’’

“That could be true. But the two of you carrying on could have an awful lot to do with Lawton’s death. And if it turns out your daddy was murdered, and Doc was shot because he knew it, then that is very much the sheriff’s business.’’

Trey looked at me blearily. “Didn’t your detective friend find out there was nothing in that chili cup that could have killed Daddy?’’

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t murdered.’’ I started to tell him about the note in my Jeep, but, for some reason, I changed my mind. “There are still questions about his death,’’ I said, “especially given everything that’s happened since.’’

Trey dropped his head into his hands. He sat that way, rubbing at his temples, for what seemed like a long time. Finally, he looked up. Every emotion he was feeling showed in his eyes: Grief. Confusion. Guilt. I almost felt sorry for him, until I got a mental memory of his hands exploring Wynonna’s breasts.

“Mace, I swear to you, I swear on my sister’s life, I didn’t kill Daddy. I loved that man. Which is all the more reason why I hated . . . hate . . . Wynonna. She’s been coming on to me for months, and she’s just relentless. Whenever we were alone, she’d be touching me, rubbing on me, throwing herself at me.’’

He took a swallow of his coffee. He didn’t touch the beer.

“But I never did a thing with her while Daddy was alive,’’ he continued. “Tonight was the first time I gave in. I’d been drinking, and I’m weak, Mace. Daddy always said it, and it’s true. I’m weak. I thought it would make me feel better, just to hold someone in my arms. Just to have someone hold me. But that somebody was Wynonna, so it only made me feel worse.’’

He touched a thumb to the corner of his eye. It came away wet.

“When I rolled off her tonight, all I felt was shame.’’

Now, unfortunately, I had another mental image to add to his hands groping her.

“What do you plan to do now, Trey?’’

“She’s the devil, Mace. I’ve gotta stay away from her. I thought maybe you could help me do that. I like you. A lot. I thought there was something between us, but I can see you’re hung up on that Miamuh hotshot.’’

Not any more, I thought.

“It will just kill Belle when she finds out what I did with Wynonna. Can you wait to tell the sheriff until after I’ve told my sister? You know how word travels.’’

I contemplated that. I guess I owed him that much. And, knowing how fragile Belle was, I thought it would be best if she heard bad news from her brother instead of from some gossipy Cracker Trail camper.

“Yeah,’’ I finally answered. “I’ll do that. But you better make it fast, Trey.’’

“I will, I promise. But I sure don’t look forward to it. Belle’s gonna be so disappointed in me. And she’ll hate Wynonna, of course, even more than she does now. Wynonna was too smart to ever let Belle catch her chasing me. If she had, Belle surely would have told Daddy.’’

He sipped his coffee, probably cold by now.

“That’s how close the two of them were. Much closer than Daddy and me. And I didn’t mind, because I love my sister. She worshipped our daddy, and Belle was his favorite. It didn’t matter that she was adopted.’’

My surprise must have registered on my face because Trey stopped to look at me.

“Yeah, not too many people know that,’’ he said. “She was just an itty bitty baby when they brought her home. I was only three, a little past being a baby myself. All I remember is my parents walking in the door with this tiny, living doll. They’d wrapped her in a pink blanket, with bunnies.’’

“Did Belle grow up knowing?’’

“Not until she was ten years old. I didn’t know either, really. Daddy sat us both down on her tenth birthday. He gave us a speech, about how he and Mama loved Belle so much that they chose to have her join our family. He didn’t say much about where she came from or how they got her.’’

“Weren’t you curious?’’

“Belle was, but I wasn’t. As far as I was concerned, she was my sister. She’d been part of the family, part of me, for as long as I could remember. She was just Belle.’’ He stopped talking, his eyes grew distant.

“What?’’

“I was just thinking about her as a little girl. After she found out she was adopted, she had a lot of questions about where she came from. But you learned with Daddy, there were certain things he didn’t talk about. When Belle was younger, she tried prying out the details. As she got older, she finally accepted it and quit asking.’’

We were quiet for a few moments. A generator hummed at the cook site. A bobcat screeched in the distant woods. I thought of my feelings for my sisters, and of Mama’s overwhelming—sometimes overbearing—love for all of us.