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good sense."

"I don't want this house."

"You have it, or will. That's the way it's going to be. I put this house around you years ago. I put it around your crybaby brother and your weak-spirited mother."

"Be careful." Phoebe stepped closer to the bed. "Very careful how you speak about my family."

"Yours." Even poking a finger seemed to weaken her. "Not mine. You're my only blood at this point, and this house stays with my blood. I've made the arrangements."

"Fine."

Cousin Bess's dry lips twisted into a smile. It seemed to Phoebe her flesh was simply melting off the bone. That's how the Wicked Witch had met her end. Melting. Melting.

"You're thinking you can make yours, too. After I'm in the ground.

You're thinking that won't be long. You're right about the second part. I haven't got long."

"I'm sorry." Whatever their differences, Phoebe felt a pang. "I know you have pain. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Still have that soft spot yet. Give it time and it'll harden up. The house comes to you. Don't think you can give it to your mother or your brother. I've fixed it so you can't. I've got the money put away for maintaining it. You'll get that from the lawyers. Held in trust, so don't think you can just be grabbing it with both hands. It's only for the house. That's made clear."

"I don't want your money either."

"Lucky for you then, because you won't get a dime. None of you.

The house gets it all. On your death, it passes to your issue. If, only if, you abide by the terms. You'll live here now, miss, if you want your mother under this roof. You'll be in residence. There's no turning it into one of those bed-and-breakfasts or retail spaces or museums. It's a house, and it's where you'll live from here out."

Not a gun to her head, Phoebe thought, not a knife to her throat.

No, no, Cousin Bess was too wily for those obvious weapons. Instead, she held those whom Phoebe loved over her heart.

"I don't need your house, your money or your approval. Understand me. I can and will support and house my child as I see fit. Not as you decree it."

"You will, or your mother goes today. Out of this house. Out of the house she hasn't been able to get the guts up to leave in years now. You think I don't know? I'll have her out within the hour, kicking, screaming. Imagine she'll need a padded room for a while, don't you?"

"Why would you do this to her? She's done nothing but tend to you. She's washed and bathed and emptied your slop for months now. Never once, in all of her life, has she caused you or anyone any harm."

"Might have been more respected if she had. I wouldn't be doing it. You would. The only way she stays in this house is if you do. You walk out of it, she's carried out of it. I took her in, took all of you in. I can put you out."

"So you always said."

"This time," Cousin Bess said with a thin smile, "it's permanent."

Phoebe woke with a quick jolt. Had she heard whistling? Had she heard it or imagined it?

She trained the field glasses on the street, toward the park, and saw nothing.

She rubbed her eyes, rubbed her neck.

Cousin Bess. How long had she lasted after that deathbed visit?

Weeks more. Hard, miserable weeks, most of which she'd been delusional or drugged into sleep.

But long enough for Phoebe to learn-from the lawyers, from the trusts and wills and documents-that some things aren't negotiable. She hadn't been able to have another lucid conversation with the old woman.

And here she was, years later, sitting in the house, looking out. As it appeared she always would be.

Chapter 17

Razz Johnson had something to prove. And he was gonna prove it today. The Lords figured they could come on his turf? Screw with his boys? They figured their way into the ground. They gonna come over to the west side, paint their shit right on his doorstep? Uh-uh. They were gonna learn some respect.

Right now his brother was in the hospital, and maybe he'd die.

They got the bullets out of his guts those motherfuckers put in him when his man led the force to Lords' turf for some goddamn retribution.

But T-Bone had ordered Razz to stay back, 'cause he hadn't reached the high level for warfare. Maybe, maybe if he'd been there, his brother