“It was too much for her. She snapped. Her brother and Davis had been tortured in front of her, and she was certain they would be murdered by the Double Eagles. As we know now, they were.”

“Why didn’t you contact the FBI at that point?”

“Because I was afraid that what had happened to Frank Knox in my office would be uncovered.”

“Did Viola share your concern about being charged with murder?”

Dad reflects on this. “Not at that time. She was hysterical. She would have sacrificed her life to free her brother.”

“But you wouldn’t?”

“I couldn’t take that risk. I had young children. Viola didn’t. Her husband had been killed in Vietnam. She was pretty much alone. I see now that her urge to protect her brother was as strong as my urge to protect my children. But . . .”

“Go on, Doctor.”

“I was fairly certain that her brother and Mr. Davis were already dead by the time I got the story out of her and Ray.”

“And were they?”

“I don’t think anybody knows for sure.”

“What happened after Viola was rescued, Doctor?”

“I hid her for several days. The Double Eagles were scouring the county for her.”

“Where did you hide her?”

“I enlisted the help of Nellie Jackson, a black madam who was a patient of mine. Nellie first hid Viola at her place of business, then at a rental house she owned.”

The very mention of Nellie Jackson is titillating to the Natchezians in the crowd. A soft buzz of conversation rises, then dies under Judge Elder’s glare.

“What was your intention at this time?”

“Just to keep Viola alive. I had to sedate her several times. She was going out of her mind. She said many times that she wished I’d left her to die with her brother.”

Quentin shakes his head as though he can hardly believe this tragic tale. “How was this situation finally resolved, Doctor?”

“I had about decided to take Viola to the FBI when she disappeared.”

“Disappeared? What did you think had happened to her? Did you think the Klan had found her?”

“For a couple of hours I did. But then I found out she’d given Nellie a note for me. Viola wrote that she was certain her brother was dead, and she couldn’t bear to stay in Natchez anymore. She said she loved me, but that there was no future for us and never had been. She told me not to look for her. That was all. Nellie told me one of her men had driven Viola up to the train station in Memphis, but beyond that, she wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“And the next you heard of Viola was the letter that came to your office, from a P.O. box in Chicago?”

“That’s correct.”

“When was the next personal contact between you and Viola Turner?”