The phone on my desk buzzes, drawing our eyes to it. I press the lighted button. “What is it, Rose?”

“Henry Sexton is out here. I told him you couldn’t be disturbed, but he says it’s an emergency.”

Caitlin’s eyes shine with anticipation, and she doesn’t offer to leave. “Send him in, Rose.”

“Yes, sir.”

Five seconds later, my door opens and Henry walks in wearing corduroy pants, a flannel shirt, and John Lennon glasses. He must have been wearing contacts last night. The moment he sees Caitlin, he looks like a college professor flummoxed by a question he can’t answer. Caitlin has actually sunk down in her chair in the vain hope that Henry won’t see her until he’s blurted out whatever is on his mind. The woman is shameless.

“Henry, you know my fiancée.”

He moves awkwardly around the chair and shakes hands with Caitlin, who straightens in her chair and smiles like an actress auditioning for a coveted role. But Henry doesn’t return the expression. He looks back at me with utter sincerity and says, “We need to talk, brother.”

“Does Caitlin need to leave? If this visit has to do with your investigations, don’t hesitate to kick her out.”

Henry gives this question grave consideration, his face hardening with something like territorial instinct. “Under any other circumstances, I would. But if she’ll promise not to print what I’m about to say, or post it online, I’m willing to say it in front of her.”

“Henry, what the hell is going on?”

“Do you know about the grand jury?”

My diaphragm flattens like that of a boxer about to take a body blow. “No. What’s happened?”

“Shad took your father’s case before them right after lunch.”

For a few seconds I stop breathing. The work of grand juries is supposed to be confidential, but I sense that Henry already knows what happened in that chamber today. “Tell me.”

He gives Caitlin a mistrustful glance, then says, “They returned a true bill half an hour ago. I’m sorry, Penn.”

“Motherfuck,” Caitlin curses, anger making her eyes blaze like klieg lights. “An Adams County grand jury indicted Tom Cage for murder?”

“They sure did,” Henry confirms. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

Henry and I share a look: last night he assured me that he’d nail the Double Eagles for Viola’s death long before my father could be indicted.

“How the hell do you know that when I don’t?” Caitlin asks.

Henry lowers his chin and gives me a look that says: Does this girl have her priorities straight?

“Who’s the judge?” I ask.

“Joe Elder.”

I shake my head with something close to despair. “How certain are you of this?”