by Greg Iles
“Who’s staffing the ER over there?”
“That new doctor, Waheed-something. Foreigner. Henry doesn’t have a doctor of his own. His mother doesn’t think he’s been to see one since your father treated him as a boy.”
Typical male. “Walker, I’m going to ask Drew Elliott to drive over there. Tell the ER doctor that Drew is Henry’s doctor of record. Unless they have a board-certified ER doc, we want Drew in charge of Henry’s care.”
“I hear you, buddy. And thanks. I’ll take care of it.”
“Do you have any idea who attacked him?”
“Just a vague description. Three white males between twenty and thirty.”
“That young?”
“That’s what Lou Ann Whittington said. She’s the secretary over there. It was just luck that she walked outside to leave for the night. She carries a .38 in her bag. She told the bastards to stop hitting him, and when they didn’t, she started shooting. She hit one, and they took off. That lady saved Henry’s life, no question about it.”
“I thought Henry was going to call you for an escort at quitting time.”
“He was supposed to. The dispatcher was waiting for his call, and I had a man ready to go at a moment’s notice. Apparently Henry went out to his Explorer to get a computer drive, and they jumped him. He managed to Mace them, and that stalled things enough so that Lou Ann came out in time.”
“Did Henry recognize any of them?”
“He thinks he might have known one of them, but he couldn’t give me a name. Seems like they meant to kidnap him, but when he resisted they decided to kill him. I’ve got to wait to question him again. Poor guy’s out of his head.”
Annie reaches out and takes my hand. Her skin is cold. I squeeze tight.
“They stole a bunch of Henry’s files, too,” the sheriff adds. “Busted out his back window.”
“What files?”
“Mrs. Whittington thinks it was all his old Klan stuff. He was going to take it all over to his girlfriend’s house. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Anyhow . . . tell Dr. Elliott to hurry. I’ll let you know if they decide to medevac Henry down to Baton Rouge.”
“Okay,” I say dully. “Thanks.”
When I set down the phone, I realize Annie is scared to death.
“What happened, Daddy? Your face looks white.”
I sit beside her on the sofa and put my arm around her. “Somebody I work with just got hurt. Don’t be afraid. He’s all right. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Who was it?”
“A reporter. You’ve never met him, but he’s a really good man.” Despite my reassurances, the realization that somebody tried to kill Henry tonight has shaken me to the core. I hug Annie, then stand so that she won’t feel my anxiety. “I’m going to have to make some calls, Boo. Maybe you should go in the kitchen and fix that ice cream.”
Annie stays put. “You said you didn’t want ice cream.”
“I said I didn’t need it. I’ll eat some when I’m done with my calls.”
“I’d rather stay here. I’ll just keep doing my homework.”
Sure you will. “Okay. But don’t let this stuff upset you.”
As I dial my parents’ house, Annie nods and puts on a brave face, but she’s faking. Ever since my wife’s death, my daughter has been unable to witness me losing any degree of control without freaking out. In the first months after Sarah’s death, Annie literally couldn’t leave my side. She had to be touching me, even in sleep, or she would experience night terrors. The road from that place to where we are now has been a long one, and Caitlin—along with the move back to Natchez and proximity to my parents—did much to bring us down it. Sudden crises like this one sometimes trigger severe anxiety in Annie, but unless I’m going to wait for my mother to drive over here, my choices are to keep her with me or banish her into a separate room, where she’ll feel even more anxious.
“Hello?” says my mother. “Penn?”
“Mom, is everything okay there?”
“Yes, I think so. Your father’s sleeping. Today was just too much for him, I think.”
“Is the cop still outside?”
“Yes, I’ve seen him several times, walking around the house.”
“I’m going to have Chief Logan send a squad car over to stand guard.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Yes. Henry Sexton was just stabbed and beaten.”
“Oh my God.”
“You and Dad stay inside. Don’t go out for any reason. I’ll call back in a while. I need to talk to Dad before tomorrow.”
“All right. But—”
She tries to go on, but I beg off and call Chief Logan, who’s just heard of the attack on Henry. He’s happy to send a squad car to my parents’ house, and says he’s sending one to mine as well. I thank him and hang up, then glance at Annie, who’s pretending to work. A protective instinct of almost frightening intensity swells within me as I watch her, but I force my fingers to text Caitlin at the newspaper.
Henry Sexton just assaulted outside the Beacon. In bad shape. In Mercy Hospital ER. Nothing u can do there for now. My home line will be busy. Perps stole some of Henry’s files. Come here if u need to talk. Sorry.
As soon as the “Message Sent” confirmation appears, I call Drew Elliott, a local internist and one of my father’s younger partners. I dial his cell phone to circumvent the answering machine that, along with his wife, screens his home calls.
“Hey, Penn. Been a while. Tom okay?”
“I think so. Do you have privileges at the Ferriday hospital?”
“I do, actually. Why?”
“A good friend of mine was just stabbed and beaten. He’s over there in the ER. I just told Sheriff Walker Dennis you were his doctor.”
“You what?”
“Dad treated him when he was a boy, but now he doesn’t have a doctor. But he needs help, and I’m asking you to see him, as a favor to me.”
“He’s in the Ferriday ER, you say?”
“Yeah. It’s Henry Sexton, the reporter.”
Drew takes a few seconds with this. “The guy who writes those stories about the KKK?”
“Yep.”
Drew grunts like a man getting to his feet. “Okay, I’m on my way. I’ll give you a call as soon as I’ve assessed him.”
“Thanks. Do whatever you think is necessary. I don’t know if he has insurance, but I’ll cover any costs he can’t pay.”
“I hear you. Let me get going.”
“Just a second, Drew. How did Dad seem to you at the clinic today?”
I hear Drew breathing as he walks. “Same as ever, I guess, considering. I didn’t see that much of him. I rarely do, unless I make a point to walk down to his end of the office for a consult. That murder mess isn’t really going to trial, is it?”
“I hope not, but it could. I’ll tell you about that another time.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know how Henry is.”
Before I have time to second-guess myself, I hang up and call Information for the number of the New Orleans field office of the FBI. Using the automatic connect option, I watch Annie as I await the first ring. She’s still watching me so intently that I wonder if she’s blinked even once.
“FBI,” says a female voice. “New Orleans Field Office.”
“I’m trying to reach Special Agent John Kaiser. The situation is urgent. My name is Penn Cage.”
“Agent Kaiser is not in the building, sir.”
“Can you get him a message? This could be life or death.”
“What was your name again?”
“Penn Cage. I’m the mayor of Natchez, Mississippi. Three men just tried to kill one of Agent Kaiser’s confidential informants. Please take my telephone number.”
After she does, I decide to make sure my message gets through. “Tell Agent Kaiser I’m the Mississippi lawyer who forced the resignation of Director John Portman in 1998.”
I’m pretty sure I hear a gulp at the other end of t
he line.
“Do you have that?”
“Yes, sir.”
As soon as I hang up, I rise and start pacing, trying to think of the most efficient moves I can make while I wait for Kaiser’s callback, which could take hours.
“Life or death?” Annie echoes. “Is your friend going to die?”
“I hope not, Boo. But he’s hurt pretty bad.”
“Is Dr. Drew going to take care of him?”
I smile and nod, tying to convey confidence. “Drew’s going over there now. If anyone around here can fix Mr. Henry up, he can.”
“What about Papa?”
I considered calling Dad to check on Henry, but it’s been years since he treated trauma cases in the ER. “Papa’s under too much strain to be dealing with a trauma case right now.”
“Do they have a CAT scan machine across the river?”
“Uh . . . I think so.”
“Do they have a neurologist?”
My eleven-year-old daughter is a huge fan of both Grey’s Anatomy and House, M.D. Initially, I tried to keep her from watching these shows, but after a while I gave up. Annie has an almost morbid interest in cancer, which killed her mother, and she’s told me repeatedly that her ambition is to become an oncologist and cure the disease.
“I don’t think so,” I admit. “But Drew knows how to read a scan. If Henry has bleeding in his brain, they’ll airlift him to Baton Rouge.”
“Why not Jackson?”
“The Louisiana doctors have connections in Baton Rouge and New Orleans, not Jackson.”
“That’s weird, since Natchez and Vidalia are only a mile apart.”
I walk over and lay my hand on her shoulder. “Boo, in a lot of ways, the Mississippi River is like a locked gate.”
The slam of the front door tells me Caitlin must have run right out the door of the Examiner when she got my text. The newspaper office is less than a mile from our houses as the crow flies, but she must have driven fifty or sixty miles an hour through the maze of one-way streets that is downtown Natchez to get here so fast.
“What do you know about Henry?” she asks, almost skidding into the room.
Annie jumps up and hugs Caitlin’s waist.
Before I can answer, the telephone rings. The LED says UNKNOWN NUMBER. I hold up my hand to Caitlin and answer.
“Penn Cage.”
“Mayor, this is Special Agent John Kaiser. What’s happened? Is it Henry Sexton?”
“How did you know?”
“Just a feeling. Is he alive?”
“Right now he is.”
“Thank God.”
CHAPTER 45
AS CONCISELY AS POSSIBLE, I summarize what I know about the attack on Henry for Special Agent Kaiser, while Caitlin memorizes every word. Halfway through my account, I notice Caitlin staring at the preliminary autopsy report for Viola Turner, which lies on the back of the sofa. I was stupid to leave it out.
“What’s Henry’s present condition?” Kaiser asks with military succinctness.
“He’s in and out of consciousness. I’ve sent the best doctor I could get to check him out. I called you because I know you’ve been in contact with Henry about the Jericho Hole bones, and tonight’s assault was probably related to the cases he’s been working.”
“Henry told me you put some security on him last night,” Kaiser says.
“Just an ex-cop. The Concordia Parish Sheriff’s Office was watching him today. They were supposed to provide an escort when he finished work, but the wires got crossed. I should have hired somebody to stay with him every second. I guess I didn’t think they’d go for him at the newspaper.”
“I assume the sheriff’s covering Henry at the hospital now?”
“Yes, Sheriff Walker Dennis. He’s hoping to question Henry some more.”
“Do you know Sheriff Dennis personally?”
“Sort of. I played Little League ball with him as a kid.”
“Do you think he could have set Henry up?”
A chill runs along my arms. “My first instinct says no. But I honestly don’t know him well.”
“Well, it’s something to consider. By the way, I’m expediting the DNA analysis on the Jericho Hole bones, and we’ve sent the bullet up to the crime lab in Washington. That was good work going into that lake. Sometimes the shortest route between two points doesn’t involve a search warrant.”
“As long as the guys breaking the rules can be trusted.”
“Amen. Henry told me a little about your father’s case, too.”
“Did he?” I say coolly.
Kaiser is silent for a few seconds. “Would it surprise you to learn that I know quite a bit about you, Mayor?”
“Because of my battle with Director Portman, you mean?”
Kaiser chuckles softly. “No, though I was no fan of that elitist asshole. I’m actually a friend of Dwight Stone.”
This name hurls me back in time. Dwight Stone was one of more than a dozen FBI agents assigned to Natchez during the 1960s. When I was persuaded by distraught family members to look into the murder of civil rights activist Delano Payton, the trail eventually led me to Dwight, who’d retired to the mountains of Colorado. He did more than help me solve the cold case; he ended up saving my life.
“That says a lot for you,” I tell Kaiser. “What are you going to do about Henry? Can you do anything?”
“You bet your ass I can. I’m going to add some men to his guard detail, and I’m coming up there myself, first thing in the morning.”
“First thing” means different things to different people. New Orleans is three hours south of Natchez, but Kaiser sounds like the crack-of-dawn type to me. Before I can ask for clarification, he says, “If Walker Dennis is bent, or he has a mole in his department, the discovery of those bones in the Jericho Hole might have triggered Henry’s beating.”
“Couldn’t it just as easily have been Henry’s interviews with Glenn Morehouse and Viola Turner?”
“Of course. Can you keep something absolutely between us?”
“Absolutely.”
“Morehouse died of an overdose of fentanyl, which he was taking by prescription. But the dose was too high to have come from his patch, or even two of them. He was murdered, no question.”
Kaiser’s openness is startling after years of dealing with closemouthed FBI agents. “I figured as much. One thing strikes me as strange. Henry described his assailants as being between twenty and thirty years old. That doesn’t sound like Double Eagles to me.”
“All those bastards had sons and grandsons. Keep an open mind as we move forward.”
I’m surprised to hear Kaiser use the plural pronoun. “What’s your idea of moving forward?”
“Getting the rest of those bones up, ASAP.”
My heart is pumping faster. “How are you going to do that?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ve got a couple of ideas. The Double Eagles have crossed the line this time. I’m coming up there loaded for bear.”
Kaiser doesn’t talk like most FBI agents I’ve worked with. Around laymen, Bureau people tend to speak like fighter pilots and accountants—without emotion. “Agent Kaiser, I’m going to take a shot in the dark here. I think my family may be in as much danger as Henry Sexton was. I believe Brody Royal and the Double Eagles have threatened us, to make my father take the blame for a murder they committed. Are you with me?”
“Keep going.”
“I don’t exactly have a private army up here. I was wondering whether you might be able to protect my father as a federal witness. I believe my dad knows who murdered Albert Norris, and probably Dr. Leland Robb and three other people as well.”
Kaiser grunts but offers nothing.
“And this may sound crazy,” I add, “but Dad might also have information about the major assassinations of the 1960s. A man named Brody Royal definitely does. Do you know that name?”
“I know who Royal is. He barely evaded prosecution in a state insurance fraud case.”
> “That’s the one. I think if you could assure my father that our family is safe, he could help you quite a bit.”
After a few seconds, Kaiser says, “Let me make some calls. I’m just getting up to speed on some of this. I probably won’t know for sure what I can do until tomorrow morning. Can you protect your folks until then?”
“I think so. And anything you need on my side of the river, let me know. I’ll get it done.”
“Do you have a lot of influence with Shad Johnson?” The lightest touch of irony colors Kaiser’s voice.
“I can still make things happen here when I need to,” I assure him.
“Good.” The FBI agent gives me a 504 cell number, which I enter into my contacts list, and then I let him go.
“Was that John Kaiser?” Caitlin asks, her face strangely flushed.
“Yes. He’s coming up here tomorrow.”
Her face lights up as though I’ve announced that Robert Redford is coming to town.
“What’s the deal?” I ask. Annie, too, looks curious.
“Don’t you know who Kaiser’s wife is?” Caitlin asks.
“No.”
“Jordan Glass!”
I shake my head, perplexed. Then it hits me. “The war photographer? From Oxford, Mississippi?”
“Yes. Holy shit.”
Annie is bemused by Caitlin’s schoolgirl excitement.
“Jordan Glass has won two Pulitzers,” Caitlin informs us. “Maybe three. Not to mention the goddamn Robert Capa Gold Medal. Not that it matters. She’s past all that. Glass is like Nachtwey, or even Dickey Chappelle, for God’s sake! She’s on that level.”
“You have a Pulitzer,” I remind her.
Caitlin dismisses this with a flick of her hand. “I was lucky. Jordan Glass is the shit. She’s a freaking legend.”
Annie is shaking her head in amazement.
“Are you sure she’s married to this John Kaiser?” I ask, motioning for Annie to leave the room.
“I’ll stop cursing,” Caitlin promises, signaling Annie to stay. “I read all of Henry’s stories last night, remember? He mentioned Kaiser several times, so I checked him out. He’s married to her, all right. They met while working a big murder case in New Orleans.” Caitlin shrugs. “You know me.”