Her arms clench me with the strength of near panic, and she shudders against my chest. After half a minute, I kiss the top of her head and draw back.
“Mom, I don’t want Annie to see me this way. I need to look for Dad, even if the chance is slim. Please reassure her all you can. And whatever you do, don’t leave this house. Don’t even stand by the windows. I’ve called all the contractors, so no one should be showing up. If I decide to send someone to protect you, I’ll call you first.”
She nods with grim determination. “I’ve got my pistol in my purse.”
“I’ll come back as soon as I can. Tell Annie I’ll be back by dark. And call my cell if you think of any way I might be able to reach Dad.”
Mom nods helplessly as I disappear through the back door, but she bolts it shut as soon as I’m outside.
My cell phone rings when I take out my keys—a number I don’t recognize. Clicking the talk button, I say, “Hang on!” then climb into the Audi and start the engine. “Who is this?”
“John Kaiser.”
“Thank God. Have you got anywhere on being able to help my father come in?”
“I’m working on it. The best we can hope for is a surrender to us on federal charges. But with a dead state trooper, the politicos down here are going to light up the phones in Washington if I try to take him away from them. I’m pressing for it, but my SAC has been fighting turf battles with the locals every day since Katrina.”
I grit my teeth in frustration. “Please do what you can. I haven’t had any luck finding him yet, but I will.”
“Watch your tail while you look. I checked up on Randall Regan. He’s a bad son of a bitch.”
“I learned the hard way, as usual. Hey, have you got anything on the Big Ears yet?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve got Regan telling Brody Royal that you assaulted him in the restroom of a restaurant. He’s thinking of pressing charges.”
“Is that all they said? No mention of what I said to Regan in the diner?”
“Nope. He told Royal you sat down at his table and harassed a coworker he was with. Then he went into the restroom to take a leak and you attacked him. Two waitresses have already confirmed that story, by the way. If you go by what they said on the phone, Regan and Royal are as clean as a nun’s drawers.”
“Damn it, John. They must have figured out my game. Regan didn’t say a word in the restaurant, like he expected me to be wearing a wire.”
The FBI agent sighs. “You know the odds of getting quick results are low, especially pushing as hard as you are. You’re so keyed up Regan probably read you like a book. Setups always take time. Just promise me you’re not going to make the same kind of approach to Brody Royal.”
Not unless I have no other option. “You can rest easy on that score.”
“Good. Stay in touch.”
Hanging up, I back my Audi onto Washington Street, then pull onto Broadway and drive along the bluff to State Street, wondering where to go next. Where would Dad run with his life on the line? Even if a thousand people would risk their lives for him, there can’t be more than a handful whom he would place in the line of fire. I quickly discard my first few ideas, but then a chill raises the hair on my arms and neck.
Could Dad be hiding at Quentin’s house? When the old lawyer’s not working in Washington, D.C., he lives on seventy acres in Jefferson County, Mississippi, and I can hardly think of a more isolated sanctuary for Walt and my father to hide in. Whether Quentin would risk his law license to hide a client fleeing a murder warrant is another question. But of course my father is more than a client to Quentin. This half-crazy idea gives me the first hope I’ve felt since I learned Dad jumped bail, but the only way I can safely confirm it is to drive the thirty-five miles to Quentin’s place.
Turning right on Franklin Street, I cruise past the turn to City Hall and continue north, half convinced I should make the drive right away. There’s not much else I can accomplish in the next couple of hours. Since my altercation with Randall Regan didn’t trigger any incriminating phone chatter, he and Brody are obviously smarter than I’d hoped. The only other thing that might push them to incriminate themselves is Sheriff Dennis hitting the Knoxes’ drug operations, which won’t happen for another eighteen hours, at the earliest. Why am I even thinking about that? Now that Dad and Walt have been painted as cop killers, everything else is academic—
When my phone rings, I assume it’s Kaiser calling back, but it turns out to be Chief Logan of the Natchez police.
“Don? What’s happening?”
“I found what you were looking for. Are you still interested?”
“Can you be more specific?” I ask, confused.
“L.T.”
Lincoln Turner. My heartbeat picks up immediately. “Where?”
“His white pickup is parked at a juke joint out by Anna’s Bottom. It’s called CC’s Rhythm Club. Looks like your basic dump to me.”
Having been thwarted on all fronts today, the idea of confronting the man who started this nightmare—and who’s been stalking my family—appeals to me. Moreover, Anna’s Bottom lies in roughly the same direction as Quentin Avery’s place. You could almost say it’s on the way.
“Keep him there, Don. I’m on my way.”
“Keep him there? He’s outside the city limits, Penn. I’ve got no grounds to detain the guy if he tries to leave.”
“He’s in a jook house, right? If he tries to leave, give him a field sobriety test. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“I don’t even have jurisdiction out here! This is the county. Billy Byrd’s territory. Penn, wait. You don’t sound like yourself. I heard about that APB, too. What exactly you are planning to do?”