Serenity has been gone even longer than Annie. Despite her quick use of Mia’s calcium gluconate, Drew Elliott immediately had her transported to University Medical Center in Jackson. He didn’t want to risk the complications that still have Keisha Harvin in critical condition. I never even got to say good-bye to Tee. The ambulance carrying her had already departed Natchez by the time I left Dad and Quentin at the jail.

We’ve had some turnover in our security detail as well. While the VK attackers used nonlethal rounds against most of us, Tim Weathers took an impact to the back of his head, and he’s recovering from a severe hematoma in St. Catherine’s Hospital. Our driver wasn’t killed outright, but he too had to be flown to UMC in Jackson for surgery, where he remains in critical condition. Our security detail is now led by Tim’s deputy, Joe Russell, who is a very solid guy, but he doesn’t inspire quite the confidence or sense of intimacy that Tim did.

One hour ago, my mother went upstairs with a migraine, and I went down to my basement office for the tense wait until dawn. To my surprise, when I went up to the kitchen to scrounge for food, Jenny came in to talk about tomorrow’s prospects.

I didn’t tell her much. I’ve spoken to Kaiser three times, but all he could tell me was that both tapes have been checked into a special forensic intelligence lab at FBI headquarters, and a team is working on them.

While Jenny nibbles at a bowl of ice cream, my phone pings, and a text from John Kaiser appears. I assume it will be about the videotapes, but it’s not.

Snake Knox bought gas in Sulphur, Louisiana, earlier this evening. Paid cash. We got a security cam photo of him and Alois Engel at the payment window. They bought four quarts of beer.

I texted back: So they’re headed to Texas?

Unless they double back into the Atchafalaya Swamp to hide out. We’ll find them. Leave ur cell on tonite.

I text, Will do, then click end and set my phone back on the granite countertop.

Jenny seems to be staring at a point on my chin, her expression lethargic.

“Are you thinking?” I ask. “Or having a seizure?”

She starts like a sleepwalker coming awake somewhere unfamiliar. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I get that way when I’m thinking. Slack-jawed.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Dad. Last October, when he had his heart attack, that was the first time I began to truly understand that he will die someday. Probably soon. Whether he’s acquitted in this trial or not . . . he’ll be gone. Despite all his health problems, I’ve always seen him as invulnerable. Invincible.”