“Bear with me.” He slides the photo under the one beneath it. The second shot is black-and-white, and as soon as I comprehend what I’m seeing, the hair on my neck stands up. A rush of scents and images fills my brain: the smell of horses and barbecue and burning kerosene; clouds of pink cotton candy; wild-eyed men standing in the beds of pickup trucks, yelling about God’s wrath while women sell embroidered sheets from card tables nearby. In this photograph, my father is standing amid some Ku Klux Klansmen wearing white robes and hoods. Dad’s wearing street clothes, as is another man beside him, but everyone else in the photo, except the children, is dressed in full Klan regalia.

“Where was this taken?” I whisper.

“At the Klan rally advertised on that poster. Or just outside it. July 1965. This was shot by an FBI agent. Do you recognize anyone in the picture besides your father?”

“The man standing with Dad looks like … holy shit. Ray Presley.”

After an awkward silence, Henry says, “Ray was never in the Klan. He kept his hand in everything, though. This could have been a chance meeting.”

“Who’s the Klansman talking to Dad?”

“Frank Knox,” Henry says evenly. “The founder of the Double Eagle group.”

My face feels numb. “Goddamn it, Henry. What is this?”

“Frank Knox was a patient of your father’s. All the Double Eagles were.”

“They must have worked at Armstrong Tire or Triton Battery.”

“They did. Recognize anybody else?”

I study the photo more closely. “Yeah … me.”

“What?” Henry leans down over the photo.

I point to a little towheaded boy with a flattop, talking to two other kids. “That’s me, right there. Age five. And that kid is Jackie Steele. He pitched for my Dixie Youth baseball team a few years later. Dad took me to this rally when I was a kid. I didn’t realize it was this one until now. All I really remember is that the horses were wearing robes and hoods, like the people. They reminded me of the horses in Ivanhoe.”

“Why would he take you to that rally?”

“I think he wanted to show me history while it was happening, even if it was terrible. Do you believe there was more to it?”