Tom’s stomach rolled. “I didn’t know that.”

Walt nodded. “I only mention it because they indicted you so fast. The DA obviously has a burr up his ass about you.”

“We’ll be done with our work long before this ever gets to trial. Hopefully before they even know I’m gone. Let’s go.”

Walt slapped him on the knee, and Tom winced as the Ranger turned back toward the steering wheel. Fifteen seconds later, Walt drove past the empty police car, turned onto Jefferson Davis Boulevard, and joined the traffic moving toward Highway 61.

“Did you bring the things I asked for?” Tom asked.

“That and a lot more. We could track a whole terror cell with this van, and wipe ’em out anytime you say.”

Tom nodded with relief. “Good.”

“You gonna tell me who we’re after?”

“All in good time, compadre. Let’s get the hell out of town.”

CHAPTER 38

WAITING IN MY office for my confrontation with Shad Johnson, I plugged the USB flash drive into my computer and opened the JPEG that has hung over the DA like a sword of Damocles for the past seven weeks. The fresh sight of it still engenders disbelief. I can’t quite get my mind around the fact that a calculating manipulator like Shad would put himself in a situation that could destroy his career overnight. On the other hand, he certainly wouldn’t be the first.

In the photo, a blood-soaked pit bull hangs by its neck from a rope tied to a tree limb while three men look on. The dog appears to be jerking its hindquarters away from something in the hand of one of the men. It’s an electric cattle prod, and the man holding it is Darius Jones, an All-Pro wide receiver. Standing to the left of Darius is Shadrach Johnson, his face shining with something like rapture. Few things in life have shocked me more than seeing Shad in this context, but it only proves the lesson I’ve learned time and again: none of us truly knows anybody. How Shad could possibly try to use my father’s plight to get revenge on me is unfathomable, given the existence of this image. I recall former Louisiana governor Edwin Edwards’s campaign boast that the only thing that could keep him from retaking the governor’s office was “being found with a dead woman or a live boy.” But Governor Edwards hadn’t seen this picture. In this day and age, being seen torturing a dog is political suicide.