They were getting off the tracks, though Savich was pleased Jonah was taking a stand. He hoped Jonah would follow through. In his experience, someone like Liggert would never stop hurting those weaker than him. Savich said, “Is it you, then, Jonah who has the ability to control what a person does? Do you have more luck with young men? You find they’re more malleable, easier to control? Did you avenge your father’s death by manipulating Walter and Brakey and Charles to do it for you? Your own brother? Are you that cowardly?”

Savich was surprised when Jonah laughed. “Nah, I’m not Dalco. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my dad, his death hit me hard, hit all of us hard, made me really mad, but the thing is I’ve known Sparky Carroll his whole life, watched him learn how to make meatballs from his dad. Sparky was always a nice little wuss who wouldn’t squash a bug on his nose. He was sweet, you know? It’s really sad if he did hit my dad. I can see him standing there, frozen, not knowing what to do. I can see him going to his own dad. He wouldn’t have gone to Tammy, she’s sweeter than he was.”

Jonah looked at them, shook his head. “It isn’t me who’s this wild-haired Dalco. It certainly isn’t Brakey. I mean, Brakey’s such a good criminal, he put Deputy Lewis’s body into his own truck in his own OTR. And Liggert?” He turned to his brother. “Have you learned some things I don’t know about, Ligg? Have you been dancing around a fire in McCutty’s woods, learning spells? Come on, Liggert, out with it. You saw the mismatched paint on Sparky’s fender and that turned you into a mad psychic?”

There was cold pounding hard silence. Liggert was looking at his brother like he wanted to cut his brain out. He shook himself, sucked in a deep breath, and turned back to Savich and Griffin. “You two clowns done here?”

Savich said, “I haven’t said the most important thing I came to tell you all. Dalco tried to kill me last Thursday night. He tried to terrify me in my sleep, as he did to Brakey, and Walter Givens, and that boy Charles Marker, just as he’s trying to terrify some of you. He tried, but he failed. I was stronger than that madman. I took him to my own ground, and I scared the crap out of him. He hasn’t come again because he’s afraid of me. He knows I’ll kill him.

“He’s so afraid of me he didn’t come after me in McCutty’s woods. No, he sent a boy, Charles Marker, with his father’s gun to ambush us. He’s a coward, not man enough to come at me head-on again. Worse, look what he did to Brakey.

“Deliah, you’ve got to give him up. I can protect you. If you don’t, Walter Givens will spend the rest of his life in jail. Brakey will be indicted. Every shred of evidence points to him, and the federal prosecutor will even have motive, revenge for the cover-up of his father’s murder. Aren’t you more afraid of that than what Dalco might try next?”

Deliah Alcott didn’t move. Slowly, she shook her head.

Ms. Louisa cackled, raised her arthritic hands, and waved a finger at Savich. “You waltz in here, boy, and you make your threats and try to get poor Liggert to lose his temper, and what have you accomplished? Nothing. Who is this Dalco? What is he? You claim he’s tried to kill you. You know what I think? I don’t think he even exists.”

The old lady looked at each member of her family. “All I know for certain is that Morgana isn’t Dalco. She isn’t strong enough. Even if she were, can you imagine her making her precious Brakey into a murderer?” She picked up her knitting needles, dismissing them all, and lowered her head to the interminable scarf that looked like it had grown another foot.

Savich looked from Brakey, who was standing behind Ms. Louisa’s wheelchair, to Jonah, leaning against the windowsill next to an oversized pentagram, to Liggert. Savich smiled at him. “Are you Dalco, Liggert? Will you come to me again when I’m sleeping and try to kill me? Do you think you can?”

Griffin watched everyone’s faces as Savich goaded Liggert. Their expressions didn’t give anything away, but he smelled fear, ripe and dark, and a deep, smoldering rage that heated the very air. From Liggert? Probably.

“You don’t want to wait until I’m asleep, do you, Liggert? You want to have a try at me right now, but not here in your mom’s living room. You want to come outside? I’m not weak and small like your wife or your kids. I can fight back.

Liggert roared and lunged at Savich. His mother yelled.

Savich kicked out, no muss, no fuss, got Liggert square in the belly, sent him flying backward to fetch up against a table leg, gasping for breath.