Henry stands with his hands on his hips, looking like a man who just climbed out of a ditch after digging for twelve hours straight. “I don’t know, Penn. This is a rough group he’s talking to. But I’ll tell you this. These sons of bitches here”—he sweeps his hand to his right, taking in a row of photos on the wall that looks like a mug book of convicts culled from 1950s-vintage chain gangs—“they murdered the man who was more of a father to me than my own blood. They burned him alive. These same bastards would love to send your daddy to Parchman for killing an old woman that they did terrible things to—terrible things—and almost certainly killed last night.” He fixes me with a single-minded stare. “I mean to take them down, Penn. I mean to make them pay.” Henry’s jaw quivers from the force of his passion. “If it’s the last thing I do on earth, I’ll make them face their just punishment.”

“I believe you, Henry. Why are you showing me all this?”

The reporter wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “If you stay to hear the rest, you’ll understand. I think I’ve been on my own too long. People are dying so fast … too fast. I don’t know who I can trust, or whose life I can justify putting in danger. These are some bad boys. There’s young ones involved, too. I called you because I know you’ve been in this kind of scrape before. You’ve got connections I don’t. You’ve fought the FBI before, and won. You can keep them off my back while I walk the last mile of this thing. But more than that, you’ve got a stake in this. One way or another, your father is involved in every important murder case I’ve been working these past years.”

“What?” I break in, another chill racing along my skin.

Henry nods soberly. “And Dr. Cage has consistently refused to let me interview him. Your daddy knows things about this time, Penn. Things he’s afraid to talk about. And I imagine some of them have to do with Viola.” Henry waves his hand around the room again, taking in the artifacts of a more troubled decade. “This is our legacy, brother. It’s not easy for me to do, but I’m asking for your help.”

I lay my hand on his shoulder and squeeze tight. “I’m with you, bud. Tell me what you know.”

CHAPTER 18