“About one percent.”

“No,” I breathe, pushing my fingers back through my hair.

As we stare at each other, the door opens and the four agents move swiftly up the staircase.

“You need to go?” I ask.

“They’ll wait for me. This is a bad situation, Penn.”

“You think that’s news to me?”

I know Kaiser’s grinding his teeth, because his jaw is flexing, hard. “Who is Serenity Butler?” he asks.

“A friend. A writer.”

“Why is she taking care of Mrs. St. Denis?”

What can I say? “They’re both women? They’re both black? She got elected because Dolores trusts her.”

“You brought Mrs. St. Denis up here in an airplane?”

“It seemed like the safest method.”

Kaiser shakes his head. “This was right on the borderline, man. You really pushed it. You should have called me yesterday, before you ever went to see her.”

“You and I have different objectives, John.”

“There were gunshots reported within one block of that woman’s house last night. Also a false report of a home invasion.”

I say nothing to this.

“Penn, you don’t have the legal authority to do anything like that. Do you understand? If this were anyone but me standing here, you’d be in federal custody.”

“And if I hadn’t done what I have,” I say in a low voice, “you wouldn’t be about to interview a witness that the Bureau should have found forty years ago. One who can put Snake Knox in line for a lethal injection.”

Kaiser holds up his hands, but before he can speak I say, “And she was living right in New Orleans—your home base.”

He grinds his teeth again. “What’s your point?”

“My point is, you’re welcome.”

Chapter 27

Serenity has vacated the house. When I asked where she was going, all she said was, “I need some motherfucking air.” When I called after her to ask whether she would take one of Tim’s guys along, she pretended not to hear me. To some extent, I was glad for the break. I didn’t want to spend the afternoon hearing Serenity tell me how culpable we are in the attack on Cleotha Booker and the suicidal ordeal of her daughter-in-law.

I already know.

Settled in the den with Annie, who seems to be contentedly watching television with the volume low (Mia has gone upstairs to take a shower), I am thankful for the “distraction” of my father’s trial.