“No idea. I found that photo in the Beacon morgue. The man who likely shot it is dead, and no one seems to know where it was taken. It could be the Gulf of Mexico or the South China Sea. I’m hoping you can get the answer from your father, among other things.”

I nod slowly. “I intend to.”

“Was I wrong to show it to you?”

“No. I want to know everything you do. I need to know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Henry takes several photocopied pages from the manila folder. They appear to be heavily redacted FBI surveillance reports from the 1970s. Much of the typing that hasn’t been blacked out is scarcely readable.

“What’s this stuff?”

“Three FBI reports detailing trips taken from New Orleans to Natchez for medical treatment.”

“By whom?” I ask, my chest tightening.

“Members of Carlos Marcello’s Mafia organization. In each case, they were followed to the door of your father’s office on Monroe Street. Twice during normal office hours, but once at about eight P.M., and Ray Presley also showed up on that occasion.”

Sour bile rises into my throat. “Goddamn it, Henry. What are you telling me here?”

“I don’t know what it all means, Penn. I just want you fully informed when you finally speak to your father.”

While I stare at the reports in disbelief, Henry fills a Northeast Louisiana University mug to the brim with coffee and takes a scalding sip. “Damn, I needed that.”

After pouring me a cup, he takes the reports from my hand and looks into my eyes. “How far would your father go to protect his family? Would he go to jail for the rest of his life?”

To my surprise, tears well in the corners of my eyes. “Without a second’s hesitation. Dad doesn’t have much time left anyway. He’s already outlived every prognosis he’s been given.”

“I figured as much. When you first came in, you told me you thought your dad might be trying to protect somebody. What if that somebody is you, Penn?”

“Me?”

“Not just you. Your mother, your daughter, your fiancée, your whole family. What if the Eagles simply exploited the chance to frame your father, then threatened to kill members of his family if he fought it? No one knows better than Tom Cage what the Double Eagles are capable of, and there’s no Ray Presley around to protect you anymore.”

I nod slowly, weighing the odds. “If someone made that threat, and Dad believed they’d carry it through … yes, he might sacrifice himself without a fight.”

“Today I heard a story that I wish I’d never heard. The man at the center of it was Brody Royal. I’ve heard some pretty horrible things in my time, but this …”

“You already told me Royal was involved in horrific murders.”