Kaiser is still looking hard at me, but I signal for him to be patient.
“After we finished with the Lusahatcha sheriff’s people, we split up at an Athens Point gas station. A girl from the Examiner had driven down, and she was supposed to drive Caitlin back to Natchez. Her name was Terry. But as I drove toward Baton Rouge, something told me I ought to be sure they’d done that. So I started calling Caitlin.”
“She didn’t answer?”
“No. She could have been busy, of course, but I had a funny feeling. I kept calling, and her phone started kicking me straight to voice mail. I tried five more times before I called you. Have you heard from her?”
“No. I’ve assumed she was on her way back.”
“What’s the cell reception like between Athens Point and Natchez?”
“Good, most of the way. Couple of dead spots.”
“Maybe that’s it. Or maybe she switched off that phone for some reason. But when I started thinking about her being out of range, I thought of that swamp. We had no reception at all at ground level—only in the chopper. And . . . well, I know how badly she wants to find the Bone Tree. I made her swear that she wouldn’t go back until Carl or Danny could help her, but I don’t know. . . .”
“I do. Do you remember the last name of the girl she’s supposed to be with?”
“Terry, that’s all I know. She works in marketing at the paper.”
“Okay, that’s enough to work with. Do you need to talk to John? He’s about five feet away from me.”
“No, listen. I called you because I don’t really have the right to tell John what I know about Caitlin. She has a lead that nobody else did. Henry had found a poacher who claimed to know where the Bone Tree was. The guy didn’t show today, but he sent a map that supposedly showed the tree’s location. Long story short, Caitlin still has that map, or at least a photo I shot of it. Also, she’s not only after old bones from those cold cases. Frank Knox apparently hung on to some kind of document that he used as insurance against Carlos Marcello. It was supposedly written in Russian, and it was supposed to have been kept inside that tree at some point. You know Caitlin. She’s not about to let somebody else get down in there and find that stuff before she does.”
“No, shit. But how could she get back into the swamp?”
“That I don’t know. But if there’s a way—”
“She’ll find it. Thanks, Jordan. I’ll call you if I reach her. You do the same.”
I hang up without waiting for a good-bye, then dial Caitlin’s office.
Kaiser lays his hand on my forearm. “What the hell was that about? Where’s Jordan now?”
“Headed to the New Orleans airport.” I give him the quickest summary I can, omitting any mention of Frank Knox, but my narrative is terminated by a chipper female voice saying, “Natchez Examiner.”
“This is Penn Cage. I need to speak to Jamie Lewis, immediately.”
While the call is transferred, I tell Kaiser that Caitlin might be trying to get back into the swamp.
“This is Jamie Lewis.”
“Jamie! I need to know which female employee Caitlin took out of marketing today, and I need her cell number right now.”
“Ah . . .”
“This may be life or death, Jamie. Don’t fuck around.”
“It was Terry Foreman. She hasn’t come back yet. It may take me a minute to get her cell number.”
“Hurry.”
Kirk, Annie, my mother, and Kaiser close around me as I wait for the number, then dial it. The worry in my mother’s eyes looks deeper than I would have expected, but Annie’s face is almost bloodless.
“This is Terry,” says a young female voice.
“This is Mayor Penn Cage. I need to speak to Caitlin. Immediately.”
“Oh. Uh . . . she’s doing an interview right now. She told me not to disturb her until it’s over.”
“Drop the lie, Terry. Jordan Glass called me, worried sick. Are you with Caitlin?”
She hesitates only a moment. “No, sir.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Not really. To be honest, I’m scared myself. Caitlin told me not to worry, but I’m not used to this kind of stuff.”
“What kind of stuff? Did she go back into the swamp?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How could she do that?”
“A black guy was going to show her where it was.”
This answer throws me. “A black guy? Was it Carl Sims?”
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Was he a deputy?”
“Oh, no. No way. He was just a guy at a gas station. The Crossroads Café. He was some kind of fisherman or something.”
Oh God . . . “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“There was only room for two in the boat. Seriously. It was the littlest boat I ever saw. He called it a pee-row, I think. It was a Cajun boat.”
“A pirogue?”
“That’s right.”
“Where are you now, Terry?”
“I’m still at the Crossroads Café. That’s where she told me to wait for her.”
“Have you tried to call her?”
“Yes, sir. I can’t reach her.”
I close my eyes and try to stay calm. “I want you to stay right where you are, in case she comes back. If she contacts you by phone, call me right away. I’m coming straight down there, and I’m going to get the police involved. They’ll probably come by the station to talk to you.”
“Oh, God. I knew she shouldn’t have gone with that guy. I’m so sorry—”
“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have stopped her. Tell the police everything you remember. Even the smallest thing could be important. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. I was just trying to help Caitlin.”
“I know. You sit tight. We’re going to find her, Terry.”
As soon as I click off, my mother asks me to explain the situation, but I’m too freaked out even to summarize it.
“I’ll go with you,” Kaiser says. “I’ll bring in Bureau assets.”