Drunk, he was crushed by his own tractor.

She thought of the kids who had overdosed, the one into auto-eroticism who had hung himself. Of Trudy Pruitt's tongue cut out of her head. Avery understood. "Their mode of death mirrored their crime."

He inclined his head. "They died as they lived, a fitting punishment, we believe."

Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed past it. "And my dad? The others involved in the Waguespack cover-up? What were their crimes? Knowing too much?"

"Treason," he said softly, regretfully. "They began to talk amongst themselves. Began speculating about Sallie Waguespack's death and the way their good friend Chief Stevens told them it went down. They began speculating that someone had retooled The Seven. Before they could be silenced, they went to Phillip."

"Retooled The Seven?"

"We are the elite, Avery. The best, operating in secret, willing to do whatever necessary to protect what we hold dear. What the original group was supposed to be."

"Cypress Springs's very own version of Delta Force?"

"I like that analogy."

"You would. And the group of seven men at Dad's wake and funeral, who were they?"

"Nobody. Nothing but an unfortunate number of men standing together."

She processed that, then went on. "My dad figured out what was going on?"

"To a degree. But he made a mistake, he thought Dad was the one. Behind it all. He had decided to go to the D.A. about Sallie Waguespack. He went to Lilah first, to prepare her."

"And she told you."

"Yes." He smiled. "After his suicide, she assumed that he hadn't been able to do it and had killed himself instead. She understood guilt, you see. How it ate at a person."

Avery curled her hands into fists, cuffed behind her back. "So you woke him up in the middle of the night. He opened the door and you immobilized him with a stun gun."

A look of surprise, then respect, crossed his features.

"You had everything ready in the garage," she continued. "The diesel fuel, the syphoning hose."

He inclined his head. "It's not easy to get away with murder these days, forensic science being what it is. The tazer leaves no detectable mark but offered me the time I needed to carry out my plan. That he was groggy from the sleep medication helped."

Tears choked her. She struggled to force the image of her father from her mind, force out what she imagined were his last thoughts. The way he had suffered.

"How did you know?" he asked. "What made you so certain?"

"The slipper," she said. "It was wrong."

"It fell off when I carried him to the garage. A detail I shouldn't have ignored."

"Even without the slipper, I wouldn't have bought the story. My father valued life too much to take his own." She paused. "Unlike you, Matt. Someone disagrees with your politics and you kill them. You're no better than a terrorist."

Color flooded his face. She had angered him. His voice took on the tone of a teacher speaking to a rebellious student. "In a war, Avery, there are only two sides. The good guys and the bad guys. For a cause or against it. They were against us. So they were eliminated."

"And who's been watching you, Matt? Who's been keeping tabs on your activities? Making certain your behavior doesn't veer outside the appropriate?"

She had caught him off guard, she saw by his momentary confusion. "My generals, of course," he answered. "I'm not all-powerful, Avery. I don't want to be. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

"They're dead, Matt. Your generals are rotting corpses. No one is monitoring you, and if they do, you kill them in the name of the cause."

"You're not helping yourself, Avery. We reevaluated and were prepared to make you an offer. Of an opportunity. Join us. You're smart, courageous. Use those qualities to better the world."

The children's story Peter Pan popped into her head, the place in the tale when Captain Hook offers to spare Wendy's and the Lost Boys' lives-if they join him, become pirates. Avery had always admired Wendy's bravery. The courage of her convictions in the face of certain death.

Wendy hadn't died. Peter had saved her.

There would be no Peter Pan to save her, Avery acknowledged. Only the courage of her own convictions.

"You have three minutes to decide, Avery." He set his watch. "And the clock's ticking."

CHAPTER 58

Hunter crouched behind the partially gutted wall, sweating, listening to Avery and his brother. Three minutes. Shit.

He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to force out what lay in the adjoining room. Cadavers. Murder victims.

Ones his brother thought were alive.

If he focused on that, he would be defeated. If he focused on what his brother had become, he would be defeated. If he allowed himself to dwell for even a minute on Avery strapped to that chair, he would lose it.

He needed a plan. Reasoning with Matt was out, that had become obvious. What was left? Charge in, guns blazing?

It sucked. It was all he had.

"Time's up, Avery. Are you with us or against us?"

Hunter tensed, waiting for the right moment, praying for it.

"Please, Matt," she begged, "listen to me. You're in the grip of some sort of paranoid delusion. There is no war. Your generals are corpses, victims of murder. You need a doctor, Matt. A psychia-tri-"

He cut her off. "So be it."

Hunter launched himself into the doorway,.357 out, aimed at his brother's chest. "Drop the fucking gun, Matt! Now!"

Avery cried out his name. He didn't look at her, didn't take his eyes off his brother.

"The cavalry arrives," Matt said, then laughed, moving neither his gaze nor his aim from Avery. "In a last-ditch effort to save his true love's life."

"Drop the gun."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because it's over, Matt. Because I'll kill you if you don't."

"And I'll kill her. So I guess it comes down to who's the better, faster shot."

"I'll take my chances."

"That's your right, of course. But how are you going to feel watching her die? Always wondering if maybe, just maybe, you could have saved her."

He was right, dammit. Every minute could be the difference between life and death. Avery's life or death.

Hunter's gaze flicked to Avery, then back. Matt saw it and laughed. "Reading you like a book, bro. Always could."

"Cherry and Mom are going for the police."

"Bullshit."

"They know you killed Dad."

"You're grasping at straws." His features tightened. "Let's stop fucking around. Lay down your piece."

"You won't get away with this," Hunter warned. "Too many people have died. After this, you won't be able to cover your tracks."

"I already have, actually. You're crazy, Hunter. On a murder spree. You hate Cypress Springs and your family. Everybody knows that. Tom Lancaster's Tulane student ID will be found in your apartment. As will Luke McDougal's class ring and Elaine St. Claire's crucifix. You discovered Elaine St. Claire's body and McDougal's vehicle. Your voice is on Trudy Pruitt's recorder…thank you, Avery, for alerting me to that. And to the paper with Gwen Lancaster's name and room number on it."

Fury rose up in Hunter. "Everything nice and neat, just like Sallie Waguespack."

"Just like," he agreed.

Hunter tried another tack. "I just realized why you went into law enforcement, Matt. So you can hide behind your gun. The badge."

"If that helps, believe it."

Hunter laughed. "You never fought unless you knew you could win. And you can't win without the gun."

"I could always take you. I still can."

"Prove it, then. You throw yours, I'll throw mine. Just you and me, no hardware. Winner takes all."

Matt narrowed his eyes. "You think you can take me, bro? You think you're that tough?"