“I don’t care. Get the fuck out.”

Cade slowly peeled off his windbreaker, water puddling at his feet.

Louis took a step toward him. “Hey, man, I said get out.”

Cade eyed Louis through thick-lidded slits. He tossed the sodden jacket on a chair.

“When I’m ready.”

Louis grabbed the jacket, opened the screen door and tossed it to the porch.

“Leave,” he said, holding open the door.

“You’re starting to annoy me, Louie.”

“Look, you don’t just walk in someone’s house in the middle of the damn night.”

“You afraid of me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Good. We need to talk.”

“Not here. You want to talk, call me at Susan Outlaw’s office.”

Cade didn’t move. Louis stared at him, debating whether he should try to throw him out. But Cade probably had at least twenty pounds on him.

“I’m dripping on your floor here, Louie,” Cade said. His eyes were traveling around the small living room, finally focusing on the bedroom door. He moved quickly to it.

“Hey!” Louis yelled. He followed Cade, letting the screen door slam.

Cade didn’t stop or look back. He went through the bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged with a towel. He vigorously rubbed his face and hair dry then tossed the towel on the floor.

“Get out of here,” Louis said evenly.

But Cade just looked at him, his face shadowed by the dim light. “I could sure use a beer or something.”

Louis shook his head. “I’m out. You got thirty seconds.”

Cade gave a small shrug. His eyes were moving slowly over the bedroom now. Louis felt himself tense, unnerved by the intimacy of Cade’s gaze as it moved across his clothes, his books, his bed. Cade’s eyes came to rest on Issy. The cat was lying in the pile of clothes on the floor, its ears flattened back as it stared up at Cade.

“That your kitty?” Cade asked.

Louis didn’t answer. The thunder rolled overhead, fading away. Cade was looking at the files on the bed now. He cocked his head to try to read the top one.

“Don’t touch anything,” Louis said.

Cade’s eyes zeroed in on the blurry blowup of Kitty Jagger. He looked back at Louis. “That’s my old file, ain’t it?”

Cade bent and gently opened the file. Louis took a step toward him and Cade drew back, letting the folder close.

“I’d like to read it.”

“Not tonight.”

“I always wondered what Ahnert’s take on me was.”

Louis hid his surprise. “Detective Ahnert?”

“Yeah. Good old Bob.”

“Forget Ahnert. You need to leave,” Louis said sharply. He moved to the bed and started gathering up the files.

Cade picked up the picture of Kitty and held it out. “Forgot something,” he said.

Louis grabbed the picture and stuffed it in a folder. “Look, Cade,” he said. “We’re going to get something straight. You don’t come here unannounced and not at night. You don’t ever just drop in on Miss Outlaw, either. You-”

Cade had moved away. Louis spun around.

Cade had stepped to the dresser. He picked up the old snapshot.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

Louis started to grab it, but Cade was too quick. He pulled away, taking a few steps back as he looked at the picture, then back up at Louis.

“This your old man?” he asked.

“None of your fucking business.”

“He still alive?”

Suddenly Louis didn’t care what his chances were. He didn’t want Cade touching that picture. He tensed, ready to lunge, but before he could, Cade tossed the snapshot back on the dresser. He was staring at Louis now, and Louis had a sickening feeling Cade could read his mind.

“I didn’t know my old man either,” Cade said. “I had my mom, but the old man, well, he was in Raiford and some bastard stuck a fork in his belly.”

Cade pointed to his own chest. “Leaves a hole, you know, a hole right here.”

Cade’s eyes were moving slowly over the bedroom again. “Yup, fathers are important, Louie, no matter what they are. You can’t separate from them, even if you want to. It’s important for a man to know where he comes from, what kind of blood runs through his veins.”

Louis moved quickly, grabbing Cade’s arm and shoving him toward the living room. Cade jerked away, backing up.

“Let me say what I came here to say,” Cade said.

“Make it quick.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day, about that girl. I’ve decided I don’t want you digging around in it. There’s nothing there. Leave that girl dead and buried.”

Louis knew Cade could probably break his neck, but he didn’t care. He just wanted him out. He shoved Cade and he stumbled toward the screen door.

“Get out,” Louis hissed. “You ever come here again, I’ll have your ass arrested. After I kick the shit out of you.”

Cade looked back at Louis, amused. He scooped his windbreaker off the porch and took a quick step toward Louis. He poked his finger in Louis’s chest.

“A hole,” he said. Then he smiled. “You hang onto that picture, Louie.”

Cade turned and hit the screen door. It slapped closed behind him. Louis watched him disappear into the shadows of the trees.

It wasn’t hard finding Ahnert. He was still with the Sheriff’s Department, working out of a substation in a place called Corkscrew Bend. But when Louis phoned, he was told Ahnert was off for the Thanksgiving weekend. In the phone book, Louis found a Robert Ahnert living down in San Carlos Park. When he called, a cheerful woman named Brenda told him her father-in-law loved visitors and that Louis should come on by.

When Louis pulled up to the pink house, a young man came out the front door, the sun glinting off something silver on his chest. He was just a silhouette in the brightness, but Louis recognized the crisp blue sleeves, the bulge of a holster and the swing of the baton at his hip.

“Can I help you?”

Louis walked to the porch, stepping into the shade of a palm tree so he could see the officer’s face. He was definitely Fort Myers police, and his face still had that eager look that went with being new. He wasn’t a detective, so why was he here? As far as Louis knew, no one at the department cared about Kitty Jagger.

“My name’s Kincaid. I’m here to see Bob Ahnert.”

The officer grinned. “Oh yeah, Dad’s been waiting on you. He’s been excited all morning, thinking someone wanted to come ask about some old case.”

“You work for Chief Horton?” Louis asked.

“Yeah, just passed my six-month mark. You know Horton?”

Louis nodded. “Met him last March.”

Suddenly, the officer’s face changed. “You’re that Kincaid.” He recovered enough to stick out his hand. “Dave Ahnert, pleasure to meet you.”

Louis shook his hand, wondering what Dave Ahnert had heard about him.

Dave Ahnert turned to the open front door. “Dad! You got company!” He turned back to Louis. “I gotta get going. Let yourself in.”

Louis watched him trot to the curb, where a blue and white cruiser was pulling up. When Louis turned back to the house, Bob Ahnert was standing on the porch.

He was a big guy, pushing sixty, with a silver brush-cut atop a fleshy sunburned face. Black-rimmed glasses circled piercing blue eyes.

“Mr. Ahnert?”

“That’s me,” he said.

“I’m Louis Kincaid, I called earlier.”

Ahnert stared at him through the glasses, his lips drawn in a line.

“I called Sheriff Mobley,” Ahnert said. “Asked him if he knew what you might want with me. He said you were looking into the Kitty Jagger case. That true?”

Louis nodded, feeling the sun on his back.

“Why?” Ahnert asked.

“I think the Spencer Duvall case and Kitty’s murder might be related.”

“Jack Cade was convicted of killing Kitty. That isn’t good enough for you?”

Louis shook his head. “No, it isn’t.”

Ahnert stared at him a long time. Louis squinted at Ahnert, trying to read his face. “You going to talk to me or not?” Louis asked finally.