His progress toward me is shockingly slow. The arthritis in his feet must be worsening. Despite aging rapidly over the past few years, due to various comorbid conditions, my father has always projected a deep vitality that patients sensed and drew on for comfort. But now he seems shrunken, gray and desiccated, like a monk emerging from a solitary cell, unused to human contact.

“Jewel Washington’s been bringing me casseroles about every other day,” I tell him. “Melba, too. Annie and Mia and the security team have been living off them.”

“At least the food’s not going to waste. Jewel and Melba are good women.”

He grips the back of the empty chair with his clawlike right hand, then slowly lowers himself toward the seat. With ten inches to go, his knees give out and he drops into the chair with an explosive grunt.

“A lot has happened since we last saw each other,” he says.

“There’s no need to get into all that.”

His eyes find mine and peer deeply into me. “Maybe not. But I want you to know something about Caitlin.”

I hold up my hand in the universal sign for STOP. I cannot bear to talk about Caitlin’s death with my father.

“Son,” he goes on, “I need you to know I did everything I could to save her. I had no instruments, my hands were cuffed, but still we came close, working together. Caitlin did things some soldiers couldn’t have done—”

“I know all that,” I cut in, my voice cracking. “Look—I’m sure you did everything you could. But that’s not the point, okay? She shouldn’t have been there in the first place. It was the choices you made early on—refusing to speak about Viola’s death, jumping bail—that’s what killed Caitlin. Not failing to drain her goddamn pericardium.”

Dad stares back at me, his mouth and chin quivering. “All right,” he says finally. “You’re right. But no matter how you feel about me, we have to talk. For the family’s sake.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes. And I’m glad. Also surprised.”

“Snake Knox sent you a message. Through me.”

“John Kaiser told me that. But he said you never got the message.”

“Huh.” I give Dad a subtle wink. “He must have forgotten.”

Dad blinks slowly, then motions for me to come closer and whisper. Leaning forward, I tell him exactly what I told Quentin.

Dad looks perplexed by the words. “Wives and children?” he echoes. “No immunity?”

“That’s what the biker said. And he seemed especially concerned that I get the exact words. I figured you might get more out of the message than a simple warning.”

“No. That’s what it sounds like to me. A threat.”

“Yeah. Except when did the Double Eagles ever shy away from hurting wives? They raped and beat women as a standard tactic.”