Breaking Point

come back.”
    Joe glanced at the camera in the top right corner of the room, as if to say “Got him.” Then he shifted back to Batista.
    “No, I’m sure you didn’t,” he said. “I actually believe you had no idea there would be shooting. But when it happened—you panicked. You saw your world and career about to blow up if the story got out, though, so you tried to do damage control. You were determined to take Butch out because if he talked it might lead back to you. And today you were going to threaten or murder Pam before she could expose you and what you did to them. The press conference was my wife’s idea to get you up here so you could be prosecuted locally. I wasn’t so sure you were this desperate and stupid, but Blevins confirmed it. And he’ll confirm it on the stand.”
    “He’s a liar,” Batista said.
    “Maybe,” Joe agreed. “But you were the one caught with the shotgun.”
    Batista sneered, but his face had completely drained of color.
    “You know what first got me to thinking that something was hinky with you?” Joe said, sitting back. “It’s when you had Underwood announce that reward. It was a desperation move, and it especially didn’t make sense to me that a glory-hungry political hack like you would pass up an opportunity to get his name in the papers. But you didn’t want Pam or Butch to recognize you as John Pate and put things together, right? Your only shot to save yourself was to get them both out of the picture before they figured the scheme out. And now look at you.”
    Joe stood and shook his head. “You destroyed a family and five people died, one by your hand. You abused your power in the worst possible way. As far as I’m concerned, nothing that happens now is bad enough for you.”
    “My lawyer . . .” Batista said, but didn’t finish his thought.
    —
    A FTER CLOSING THE DOOR of the interrogation room, Joe leaned into Reed’s office.
    “That help?” he asked.
    “I’m going to crucify that piece of shit,” Dulcie seethed.
    “That’s my girl,” Joe said.
    To Reed: “Please tell Butch what happened. He’ll want to start pumping iron for when he runs into Batista in prison.”
    Reed barked a laugh.
    “Man,” Joe said with a heavy sigh, “I think I’m talked out.”
    —
    N EVERTHELESS, HE CALLED Marybeth from his pickup in the lot of the county building. “It’s done,” he said.
    “Thank God. I’ll tell Pam.”
    “Is Hannah still there?”
    “She’s hanging out with Lucy like usual and staying for dinner again.”
    “You’re a saint.”
    He could envision Marybeth rolling her eyes at that. She said, “One more mouth to feed. No big deal.”
    “Keep her there,” Joe said. “I need to talk with her.”
    “Joe,” Marybeth said, concern in her voice, “what’s this about? I don’t like the sound of this.”
    “I can’t tell you yet.”
    “Did Butch relay a message? They won’t let Hannah in to see him, you know. They say she isn’t old enough for visiting hours. So I’m guessing he wants to tell her something through you. Am I right?”
    Joe closed his eyes. What he was about to do felt like the toughest thing he’d ever done. He wished Marybeth was there cheering him on instead of making it harder. But she didn’t know.
    He said, “Just keep her there, please.”

37
    WHEN JOE ENTERED HIS HOUSE, HANNAH ROBERSON looked up from the board game she was playing with Lucy with fear in her eyes. Lucy looked puzzled as she turned her head from her friend to Joe.
    “Hannah,” Joe said, “do you want to take a walk?”
    She nodded and gathered herself up.
    “Dad—what’s going on?” Lucy asked.
    “It’s okay,” Hannah said to Lucy. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
    “Dad,”
Lucy said, annoyed.
    Marybeth intervened from the kitchen. “Lucy, your dad needs to talk to Hannah.”
    Joe gave Marybeth a look of appreciation, and Marybeth arched her eyebrows in a gesture asking him what was going on.
    Joe held up a single finger to Hannah, indicating she should wait for a moment, then took Marybeth aside in the kitchen. He leaned close to his wife and said, “That girl is going to need our help. She’s going to need
your
help, Marybeth.”
    Then he told her.
    In reaction, Marybeth’s eyes got big and filled instantly with moisture as if twin tear duct valves had been opened. She covered her mouth with both of her hands.
    She whispered, “My God . . .”
    Joe said, “I’m hoping you can work with her. You’ve told me