“It was him, was it not?” My mouth didn’t want to work. Omar had just accused my father of murdering this man’s brother. “I, uh, no, it wasn’t him. I was there when it happened, in Colorado.” “Colorado? My brother has a house there. One of his smaller ones. He tells me he spends little time there.” I knew that, and I’d been to that house. “The two men who murdered your brother were named Darren and Shelton. On the orders of a man named Wyatt Green. They shot him, and tried to get me to finish him, but they’re all dead now. All the people directly involved are dead.” Except for Glenning, of course, who was in Texas. And, all the people who were directly or indirectly involved that I didn’t know about. Omar turned his head back to the television, nodding solemnly as a commercial for the US Navy showed men and women in camouflage gear operating high-tech equipment on a submarine. I couldn’t tell if he was absorbing the info, or if he’d already forgotten, or what.
