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〃We didn't ask any questions； Sam。 Just your brother。 Now e on。〃
They handcuffed him and he followed them along the tier。 Sam once had three brothers； but his oldest had died of a heart attack before Sam was sent to prison。 Donnie； the youngest at age sixty…one； now lived near Durham； North Carolina。 Albert； age sixty…seven； was in bad health and lived deep in the woods of rural Ford County。 Donnie sent the cigarettes each month； along with a few dollars and an occasional note。 Albert hadn't written in seven years。 A spinster aunt had written until her death in 1985。 The rest of the Cayhalls had forgotten Sam。
It had to be Donnie； he said to himself。 Donnie was the only one who cared enough to visit。 He hadn't seen him in two years； and he stepped lighter as they neared the door to the visitors' room。 What a pleasant surprise。
Sam stepped through the door and looked at the man sitting on the other side of the screen。 It was a face he didn't recognize。 He glanced around the room； and confirmed it was empty except for this visitor； who at the moment was staring at Sam with a cool and even gaze。 The guards watched closely as they sprung the handcuffs； so Sam smiled and nodded at the man。 Then he stared at the guards until they left the room and shut the door。 Sam sat opposite his visitor； lit a cigarette； and said nothing。
There was something familiar about him； but he couldn't identify him。 They watched each other through the opening in the screen。
〃Do I know you？〃 Sam finally asked。
〃Yes；〃 the man answered。
〃From where？〃
〃From the past； Sam。 From Greenville and Jackson and Vicksburg。 From the synagogue and the real estate office and the Pinder home and Marvin Kramer's。〃
〃Wedge？〃
The man nodded slowly； and Sam closed his eyes and exhaled at the ceiling。 He dropped his cigarette and slumped in his chair。 〃God； I was hoping you were dead。〃
〃Too bad。〃
Sam glared wildly at him。 〃You son of a bitch；〃 he said with clenched teeth。 〃Son of a bitch。 I've hoped and dreamed for twenty…three years that you were dead。 I've killed you a million times myself； with my bare hands； with sticks and knives and every weapon known to man。 I've watched you bleed and I've heard you scream for mercy。〃
〃Sorry。 Here I am； Sam。〃
〃I hate you more than any person has ever been hated。 If I had a gun right now I'd blow your sorry ass to hell and back。 I'd pump your head full of lead and laugh until I cried。 God； how I hate you。〃
〃Do you treat all your visitors like this； Sam？〃
〃What do you want； Wedge？〃
〃Can they hear us in here？〃
〃They don't give a damn what we're saying。〃 〃But this place could be wired； you know。〃
〃Then leave； fool； just leave。〃
〃I will in a minute。 But first I just wanted to say that I'm here； and I'm watching things real close； and I'm very pleased that my name has not been mentioned。 I certainly hope this continues。 I've been very effective at keeping people quiet。〃
〃You're very subtle。〃
〃Just take it like a man； Sam。 Die with dignity。 You were with me。 You were an acplice and a conspirator； and under the law you're just as guilty as me。 Sure I'm a free man； but who said life is fair。 Just go on and take our little secret to your grave； and no one gets hurt； okay？〃
〃Where have you been？〃
〃Everywhere。 My name's not really Wedge； Sam； so don't get any ideas。 It was never Wedge。 Not even Dogan knew my real name。 I was drafted in 1966； and I didn't want to go to Vietnam。 So I went to Canada and came back to the underground。 Been there ever since。 I don't exist； Sam。〃
〃You should be sitting over here。〃
〃No； you're wrong。 I shouldn't； and neither should you。 You were an idiot for going back to Greenville。 The FBI was clueless。 They never would've caught us。 I was too smart。 Dogan was too smart。 You； however； happened to be the weak link。 It would've been the last bombing too； you know； with the dead bodies and all。 It was time to quit。 I fled the country and would've never returned to this miserable place。 You would've gone home to your chickens and cows。 Who knows what Dogan would've done。 But the reason you're sitting over there； Sam； is because you were a dumbass。〃
〃And you're a dumbass for ing here today。〃
〃Not really。 No one would believe you if you started screaming。 Hell； they all think you're crazy anyway。 But just the same； I'd rather keep things the way they are。 I don't need the hassle。 Just accept what's ing； Sam； and do it quietly。〃
Sam carefully lit another cigarette； and thumped the ashes in the floor。 〃Leave； Wedge。 And don't ever e back。〃
〃Sure。 I hate to say it； Sam； but I hope they gas you。〃
Sam stood and walked to the door behind him。 A guard opened it； and took him away。
They sat in the rear of the cinema and ate popcorn like two teenagers。 The movie was
Adam's idea。 She'd spent three days in her room； with the virus； and by Saturday morning the binge was over。 He had selected a family restaurant for dinner； one with quick food and no alcohol on the menu。 She'd devoured pecan waffles with whipped cream。
The movie was a western； politically correct with the Indians as the good guys and the cowboys as scum。 All pale faces were evil and eventually killed。 Lee drank two large Dr。 Peppers。 Her hair was clean and pulled back over her ears。 Her eyes were clear and pretty again。 Her face was made up and the wounds of the past week were hidden。 She was as cool as ever in jeans and cotton button…down。 And she was sober。
Little had been said about last Thursday night when Adam slept by the door。 They had agreed to discuss it later； at some distant point in the future when she could handle it。 That was fine with him。 She was walking a shaky tightrope； teetering on the edge of another plunge into the blackness of dipsomania。 He would protect her from torment and distress。 He would make things pleasant and enjoyable。 No more talk of Sam and his killings。 No more talk of Eddie。 No more Cayhall family history。
She was his aunt； and he loved her dearly。 She was fragile and sick； and she needed his strong voice and broad shoulders。
35
PHILLIP NAIFEH awoke in the early hours of Sunday morning with severe chest pains； and was rushed to the hospital in Cleveland。 He lived in a modern home on the grounds at Parchman with his wife of forty…one years。 The ambulance ride took twenty minutes； and he was stable by the time he entered the emergency room on a gurney。
His wife waited anxiously in the corridor as the nurses scurried about。 She had waited there before； three years earlier with the first heart attack。 A somber…faced young doctor explained that it was a mild one； that he was quite steady and secure and resting fortably with the aid of medication。 He would be monitored diligently for the next twenty…four hours； and if things went as expected he'd be home in less than a week。
He was absolutely forbidden from getting near Parchman； and could have nothing to do with the Cayhall execution。 Not even a phone call from his bed。
Sleep was being a battle。 Adam habitually read for an hour or so in bed； and had learned in law school that legal publications were marvelous sleeping aids。 Now； however； the more he re