“Over the past forty years, the JFK assassination has become the vessel of America’s darkest anxieties. If we can cut through all that crap and give the people the truth—in all its banality, once and for all—then we’ll have done a lot more than atone for the sins of the FBI. We’ll have cut a tumor from the soul of this nation.”

Kaiser obviously feels great passion about his subject, but passion means nothing on the topic he’s discussing. “You’re wrong about the unknown, John. People need a mystery on which to project all their free-floating paranoia. If you pull back the curtain on the Kennedy assassination, people will just project all their angst onto something else.”

“Maybe I’ve got more faith in people than you do.”

“Maybe so. Politics has changed me, I’ll admit that.”

I pull my coat tighter and scan the streets and windows surrounding the courthouse and City Hall. Not much Christmas cheer in the air today. “JFK’s been pretty battered as a symbol, John. He’s no longer King Arthur cut down in his prime. He’s more like a spoiled prince we never really knew. I feel like people are almost angry at him now, for not living up to their dream of him.”

Kaiser shakes his head. “They still want the truth.”

“Heady conversation for the steps of City Hall, huh?” I say, trying to lighten the tension. “I need to get upstairs to work.”

“But you’ll come see Dwight?”

“I will. I owe him that. I’ll call you about five thirty?”

“Thanks. And please give me a heads-up if you and Sheriff Dennis decide to make any more arrests today.”

I nod acknowledgment but make no promises.

As the FBI agent walks back to his car, I walk up the six steps to the door of City Hall, then pass through the lobby and jog up the staircase to my office on the second floor.

“You alone?” asks Rose, my secretary, peering around me at the hallway door.

“Sure, yeah.”

“That FBI agent is gone?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You’ve got visitors,” Rose says in a cryptic tone.

I raise my eyebrows.

“Go back to the lounge. I didn’t want to put them in your office, in case Agent Kaiser came back.”

Irritated by her caginess, I walk back to the little kitchen we call our lounge. There, I find Dr. Drew Elliott and Nurse Melba Price waiting for me. Drew looks very uncomfortable, but Melba appears relieved to see me.

“What’s going on?” I ask. “Have you heard from Dad or something?”

They look at each other. Then Drew says, “We’ve got something to tell you, Penn. Your father spent yesterday at my house on Lake St. John.”

At first I think he’s telling me he’s just discovered this, but almost immediately I realize that this is a confession. “When did you find this out?”

“We knew Tuesday night.” Drew’s guilty countenance does nothing to ease my anger or sense of betrayal. “I’m sorry, man,” he goes on. “Tom asked me for help, and he was wounded. I didn’t feel I had a choice.”

My face is hot, and my heart has begun pounding. “Wounded how?”

“Through-and-through gunshot. Left shoulder. I treated him, and Melba nursed him until last night.”

My eyes switch to Melba Price. “And you couldn’t call me?”

Melba closes her eyes in what appears to be shame.

“Tom specifically asked me not to,” says Drew.

“So? You think he’s in his right mind right now?”

“He appeared to be.”

“Jesus . . . we’ve been friends since we were kids.”

Drew turns up his palms. “Tom’s my partner, Penn. I’m sorry. I see now that it was probably a mistake. Especially since . . .”

“Since what? What’s happened?”

“I don’t think he’s there anymore. Melba was with him until last night, like I said, but he sent her away.”

Dad’s nurse looks at the floor and nods.

“Melba?” I prompt.

She looks up at me with eyes no one could argue with. “He needed my help. You know your father. I wasn’t about to say no.”

“Did he give you any idea of his plans?”

“Captain Garrity drove to Baton Rouge to meet with the head of the Louisiana State Police. I know that much.”

“Why’d he do that?”

“I think he was going to try to get that APB revoked. For the killing of that trooper. Captain Garrity knows the head of the state police down there.”

“I see. And what about Dad?”

“He was waiting for Captain Garrity to get back. But the captain was late, way late. Dr. Cage made me leave a little after midnight. He was worried we might be found by those old Klansmen.”

That Drew and Melba would keep Dad’s whereabouts from me when his life was at stake is almost incomprehensible. And yet . . . why would I expect anything else? Their willing deception tells me just how many options my father must have when it comes to finding aid and comfort in his home territory.

“Why don’t you think he’s still there now?” I ask.

“I’ve been calling the house phone all morning,” Drew explains. “No answer. Tom could be there, of course, but my gut tells me no.”

“Mine, too,” Melba agrees.

“Maybe Walt got back and they moved on?”

Melba slowly shakes her head. “I think Dr. Cage believed Captain Garrity was already caught. Maybe even dead.”

“Jesus. I need to get over there.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Drew asks. He reaches into his pocket and brings out a key. “I brought this.”

“No.” I pluck the key from his hand. “You’ve done enough already.”

“Penn—”

“At least you told me now. Christ, you guys. Swear to me that you’ll call me if he contacts you again.”

They both nod with the sincerity of the guilty.

With a heavy sigh, I hurry to my office for the keys to the city car.

CHAPTER 24

WHEN WALT SAW Griffith Mackiever sit down opposite him in the Waffle House on Lee Drive, he knew he was looking at a broken man. The restaurant was nearly empty, and Walt had taken a corner booth, but Mackiever spoke in a cracked whisper so soft that Walt could hardly make out his words.

The gist was that Forrest Knox had leaked the story about Mackiever downloading child pornography, and he’d supplied images to the press. Reporters started calling the colonel’s house immediately, and within half an hour TV trucks had laid siege to his front yard. Mac had only reached this rendezvous by sneaking through his neighbor’s backyard and having his nephew pick him up, and he was anxious to get home to his wife as quickly as he could. He’d only come because he’d put Walt in harm’s way and felt he owed it to him to personally release him from any obligation.

“What do you mean?” Walt asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “You sound like you’re giving up. You’re not going to resign, are you?”

“What else can I do?”

“Fight, goddamn it.”

“How do you fight a fire hose of filth? Knox has been laying this computer trail for months, using my actual computers. How can I prove I didn’t do those searches?”

“Did you do them?”

“Of course not!”

“Then you can prove it. You’ve just got to calm down enough to approach it systematically.”

“Walt, I don’t have that kind of time. If I don’t resign, Knox will have those male prostitutes talk to the press. They’ll swear I hired them. I’m sure Forrest has access to all my movements for the past year, and all the dates will jibe.”

“Fuck him. You need to stab that prick in the gizzard.”

Mackiever cradled his face in his hands. “With what?”

Walt took the flash drive out of his pocket and laid it on the Formica between Mac’s elbows.

“What’s that?”

“A video of snipers murdering three black teenagers during Hurricane Katrina.”

The colonel dropped his hands and blinked in disbelief. “Are you kidding?”

“No. They’re trained snipers, either military or police. I’m betting state police. The shooter used a silencer.”