Louis could feel Susan’s eyes on him. “I had to tell Susan. She’s Cade’s lawyer.”

Mobley took a drink of his scotch. “Forget it. Just tell me what you found out. Did the second sample match or not?”

“It didn’t match. It was AB-negative.”

“Any chance Ronnie Cade did it?”

“Nope. I checked his blood type. He’s O-positive, just like his father.”

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Mobley whispered. “I guess I will have to go pull Cade’s old defense file out of my evidence room.”

“You don’t have it,” Louis said.

“What?”

“You never had it. Whoever killed Duvall took it.”

Mobley leaned back in the chair. In the flicker of the candle, Louis could see something pass over Mobley’s eyes, like the sheriff was watching his whole career go down the toilet. Mobley reached up and, with a hard tug, undid his black bow tie.

“Lance,” Louis said quietly. “We can’t put this back in the box. You’ve got to reopen Kitty’s homicide.”

Mobley looked at Susan. “I hate lawyers,” he said. “I fucking hate lawyers.”

Susan glanced at Louis but said nothing.

Mobley got slowly to his feet. “I’ve got to do my second set. Order whatever you want, dinner’s on me.”

He drained his scotch and set the glass down hard. “Goddamn, I liked being sheriff,” he muttered, walking away.

Susan looked at Louis. “Is he going to reopen?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, watching Mobley resume his place at the piano. “I think he will.”

Louis looked down at his drink, thinking about Jack and Ronnie Cade and what they would do when he told them they would be cleared. This whole thing had kicked up so much mistrust between them, so much bad blood. Twenty years was a long time to wait for the truth, and it might be coming too late to repair the damage that had been done between them. Damage that he himself had helped cause by his accusations.

He looked at Susan. She was stirring her drink, her dark eyes intense with thought.

“Susan, what are Cade’s options now?” he asked.

“It’s going to depend on the investigation, but assuming it favors Cade, a motion for a new trial would be first, I suppose,” she said. “But it’s always a tough road.”

“You can do it.”

Susan looked at him, then played with the swizzle stick in her drink. “Not me, Louis. I never had a case like this one. I’d be in over my head.”

Louis let a moment pass, looking at her in the soft light of the candle. He knew how hard it was for her to admit that. She had fought hard to get the Cade case in the first place, and once the news broke that Kitty Jagger’s case was being reopened, there was a good chance her bosses would take it out of her hands. Innocent man does twenty years for a murder he didn’t commit? The press would be all over it. And Susan would be cut out.

Louis glanced back at Mobley. He was playing “Yesterday.”

“Who would’ve thought,” Susan said softly.

“Thought what?”

“That for twenty years, this whole town looked at Jack Cade like a piece of garbage. And he’s probably innocent.” She shook her head. “I’ll go see Cade the first thing in the morning and give him the news.”

Louis thought about how Cade looked last night, standing in the dark, Issy in his arms, making threats. He thought of the knife Cade had thrown at his feet.

“Do you mind if I tell him?” he asked.

She frowned slightly. “Why?”

He took a drink. “We have some unfinished business,” he said.

Chapter Thirty-One

Louis swung the Mustang into the gravel drive of J.C. Landscaping and stopped. He could see Ronnie and Eric loading plants on the truck. Black clouds were rolling in overhead and he could hear the distant rumble of thunder.

Louis turned off the engine, picking up Cade’s knife from the passenger seat. He got out and started toward the truck.

Ronnie saw him coming and nudged Eric. Both of them stopped working, waiting for Louis to get closer.

“You’ve got no business here,” Ronnie said coldly.

“I need to see your father.”

Ronnie’s eyes dropped to the knife in Louis’s hand. “Why? He fired you.”

Louis hesitated, knowing he needed something to say to Ronnie.

“Look, Ronnie, I owe you an apology. I know you didn’t kill Kitty and I shouldn’t have accused you without cause. Especially in front of your son.”

Ronnie glanced at Eric, and his face softened. He ran an arm across his forehead and pulled off his work gloves.

“Okay. I appreciate that.”

“And I think we can prove your father didn’t kill her either.”

Ronnie’s eyes widened, then he broke into a slow smile. “That’s great,” he said. “I mean, that’s really great. Did you hear that, Eric?”

Eric’s sour expression didn’t change.

“Where’s your father?” Louis asked.

Ronnie motioned toward the trailer. “He’s over there, on the porch. He’s sick.”

“He’s hung over,” Eric muttered.

Louis headed across the yard toward the front of the trailer. He could see Cade sitting in a plastic chair, his feet propped up on the wooden spool table. Cade took a drink, and set the beer can on his knee, watching Louis approach.

Louis came up to him and stopped. He brought Cade’s knife from his side and stuck it hard into the top of the wooden spool. Cade glanced at it.

“What do you want? I fired you.”

“We need to talk,” Louis said.

Cade’s eyes flicked beyond Louis. Louis turned to see Ronnie and Eric coming up behind him.

“Dad, did he tell you?” Ronnie asked.

“Tell me what?”

“Louis says he can prove neither of us killed Kitty.”

Cade didn’t move.

“Dad?”

Cade slowly pulled his legs off the table and set the beer down next to the knife.

“So now you believe I was set up. Took you long enough.”

Louis started to say something but stopped. First, he just didn’t like agreeing with anything Cade said, but there was something else too, pulling at him.

“I’m waiting, Louie. You believe now that somebody stole my tool and threw those panties in my truck?”

Louis ignored him, trying to focus in on what it was that was bothering him. He could accept that the real killer had found Cade’s tool and used it on Kitty. But how could the killer have known the semen on the panties would match Cade’s blood type? He would have had to have been damn sure-or damn lucky-to set Cade up.

Cade was talking about money now, but Louis wasn’t listening. He was seeing Joyce Novick, and hearing how she described Jack Cade.

He looked at me and. . he touched himself.

“So, Louie. Who can I sue?”

Louis looked back at Cade. He was standing there, scratching his stomach.

“We can sue? I thought you told me we couldn’t,” Ronnie said. “How much can we get?”

“Millions,” Cade said, looking at Louis. “Right?”

“Forget that for now,” Louis said. “I need to talk to you, Cade. Alone. Let’s take a walk.”

Cade followed Louis toward the front gate. When they had gone about halfway, Louis stopped and turned. He was facing the sun and he moved so that he could see Cade’s face clearly.

“So,” Cade said, “what do we have to talk about?”

“The panties in your truck.”

“What about them?”

“How did the semen get on them?”

Cade shrugged. “Well, that’s obvious, ain’t it? That girl’s killer left it, you know, as part of the setup.”

Louis shook his head. “The killer would’ve had to know that those stains would match your blood type. How did he know that, Jack?”

Cade scratched his chest, then looked off across the yard. “You already know the answer, don’t you?” he said.

“I want to hear you say it.”

Cade hesitated. “I found the panties on the floor of the truck in the morning when I was leaving for work. I knew Ronnie had taken the truck out the night before. I figured he just got lucky.”

Louis shook his head. “You said he was a loser around girls, a virgin. Try again, Cade.”