After the first tears of shock, Annie had voiced an almost obsessive concern with Caitlin’s body. Where was she now? Was she alone? Why wasn’t Daddy bringing her home with him? The rational answers did nothing to allay her concerns, and once Annie realized that Caitlin’s body was almost sure to be autopsied, she had grown even more distraught. After a very difficult hour, Peggy had given her a couple of teaspoons of Benadryl, with the excuse that it would make her burning eyes feel better. The adrenaline-depleted child had almost instantly collapsed in her lap and gone to sleep.
Annie still lay there now, while Penn steadily vented the emotions boiling in his mind and heart. At first he had spoken softly, but as he revealed more of his feelings, he got louder, and Peggy grew worried that he would awaken Annie. On the advice of their FBI guards, they had moved down to Penn’s basement office. Thankfully, that isolation also prevented the guards from hearing what Penn was saying now, which was a blessing. Peggy didn’t want anyone to know how angry he was at his father, or how irrational he sounded when he spoke about the Knox gang—particularly Forrest Knox. She worried that Penn actually might take it on himself to go after the state police officer with a gun. Part of her was glad to see Penn’s anger diverted from Tom, but she knew his focus on others was probably some sort of transference. His deepest anger was reserved for Tom, and there Peggy was at a loss. She didn’t know how to argue without appearing to be giving her husband the blind support of an ignorant or deluded wife. She was looking down at Annie when the best solution came to her.
“Penn, would you take Annie from me? My legs have gone to sleep. She’s way too big for my lap now.”
He stopped pacing and glared at her, but then his face softened, and they made the transfer with the smoothness imparted by long practice.
“I’m going to make you a drink,” she said.
“I don’t need a drink.”
“Yes, you do. If you don’t slow that brain down, you’re going to talk yourself into something crazy. You have to calm down, son.”
He sighed heavily and looked over at his desk. “All right, one drink.”
“Gin and tonic?”
He nodded.
Peggy swished up the stairs before he could think twice, then went to the kitchen cabinet where Penn kept the liquor. A young FBI agent sat at the kitchen table, but he merely nodded to her and smiled encouragingly.
“Is there anything I can do for you, ma’am?”
“No, thank you.” Peggy quickly poured a triple serving of gin.
“Don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I won’t,” Peggy said, covertly reaching into her purse for the bottle of the temazepam she took to help her sleep. She swallowed one of the yellow capsules, then quickly pulled apart three others and stirred the white powder into Penn’s drink with her forefinger. It didn’t dissolve very well, but she thought the bitter gin would cover the taste.
“I wish my husband would call,” she said, just to keep the agent focused on what she was saying rather than what she was doing.
“I think Agent Kaiser wishes the same thing.”
“Oh,” Peggy said brightly, “I’m sorry, I forgot to offer you a drink.”
The agent smiled. “I’m on duty, Mrs. Cage.”
“Peggy, I told you. Please.”
“I’m fine, ma’am.”
She smiled, then picked up the glass and carried it back to the basement, the ice tinkling as she negotiated the stairs. She thought she might have to press Penn to drink, but when she got to his office, she found Annie asleep on the couch and Penn standing by his desk with his hand out. He took a big gulp from the glass, then gave her a hug so tight she could feel him shuddering against her. As she hugged him back, she spied a suede zip bag lying on his desktop. It hadn’t been there when she left to get the drinks. Tom owned several bags like that one. Every one contained a pistol.
“Mom . . . last night Dad was hiding at Quentin’s house in Jefferson County. I didn’t know that, but Caitlin did. She found him somehow. She went to see him, she talked to him, but she never told me about it. I think Walt knew, but he held it back to protect her. I only found out because I called Melba to check on her. She let it slip by mistake. If Caitlin had told me last night where Dad was . . . none of this would have happened. Don’t you see? It’s like she killed herself. Because she wanted an exclusive story. Can you believe that?”
Peggy was stunned, but she didn’t want to play into Penn’s anger. “I imagine Tom made her promise not to tell us about it.”
“Of course he did, but still. You’ve got to draw the line somewhere with loyalty. That’s what I was telling you yesterday.”
Peggy just hugged her son and willed the drug to take effect.
“Can you believe Dad just walked out of that hospital? Caitlin was dead upstairs, and he just . . . walked out. Like he didn’t even care.”
“He couldn’t have known she’d died, honey.” Peggy prayed this was true.
Penn drew back, his bloodshot eyes like those of an angry and disillusioned teenager. “If he didn’t, then it’s worse. He knew she was barely holding on.”
“Don’t talk that way!” Peggy snapped.
“Why not? I’m sorry, Mom, but I have to say it: how many chances has Dad had to do the right thing?”
Peggy went and sat beside Annie, stroked her silken hair. All she’d withheld from Penn roiled in her stomach like something she needed to vomit up, yet still she did not speak.
“I wonder if he’ll even come to Caitlin’s funeral?” Penn asked bitterly.
A wrenching abdominal ache nearly doubled Peggy over. She almost couldn’t bear to hear these words come from her son’s mouth. When would those three pills take effect? Penn’s face had grown steadily redder, but he showed no sign of collapsing. As she stroked Annie’s hair, Penn spoke with almost fearful softness.
“Mom . . . do I know everything you know?”