“Why’d he do that?”
“I think he was going to try to get that APB revoked. For the killing of that trooper. Captain Garrity knows the head of the state police down there.”
“I see. And what about Dad?”
“He was waiting for Captain Garrity to get back. But the captain was late, way late. Dr. Cage made me leave a little after midnight. He was worried we might be found by those old Klansmen.”
That Drew and Melba would keep Dad’s whereabouts from me when his life was at stake is almost incomprehensible. And yet . . . why would I expect anything else? Their willing deception tells me just how many options my father must have when it comes to finding aid and comfort in his home territory.
“Why don’t you think he’s still there now?” I ask.
“I’ve been calling the house phone all morning,” Drew explains. “No answer. Tom could be there, of course, but my gut tells me no.”
“Mine, too,” Melba agrees.
“Maybe Walt got back and they moved on?”
Melba slowly shakes her head. “I think Dr. Cage believed Captain Garrity was already caught. Maybe even dead.”
“Jesus. I need to get over there.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Drew asks. He reaches into his pocket and brings out a key. “I brought this.”
“No.” I pluck the key from his hand. “You’ve done enough already.”
“Penn—”
“At least you told me now. Christ, you guys. Swear to me that you’ll call me if he contacts you again.”
They both nod with the sincerity of the guilty.
With a heavy sigh, I hurry to my office for the keys to the city car.
CHAPTER 24
WHEN WALT SAW Griffith Mackiever sit down opposite him in the Waffle House on Lee Drive, he knew he was looking at a broken man. The restaurant was nearly empty, and Walt had taken a corner booth, but Mackiever spoke in a cracked whisper so soft that Walt could hardly make out his words.
The gist was that Forrest Knox had leaked the story about Mackiever downloading child pornography, and he’d supplied images to the press. Reporters started calling the colonel’s house immediately, and within half an hour TV trucks had laid siege to his front yard. Mac had only reached this rendezvous by sneaking through his neighbor’s backyard and having his nephew pick him up, and he was anxious to get home to his wife as quickly as he could. He’d only come because he’d put Walt in harm’s way and felt he owed it to him to personally release him from any obligation.
“What do you mean?” Walt asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “You sound like you’re giving up. You’re not going to resign, are you?”
“What else can I do?”
“Fight, goddamn it.”
“How do you fight a fire hose of filth? Knox has been laying this computer trail for months, using my actual computers. How can I prove I didn’t do those searches?”
“Did you do them?”
“Of course not!”
“Then you can prove it. You’ve just got to calm down enough to approach it systematically.”
“Walt, I don’t have that kind of time. If I don’t resign, Knox will have those male prostitutes talk to the press. They’ll swear I hired them. I’m sure Forrest has access to all my movements for the past year, and all the dates will jibe.”
“Fuck him. You need to stab that prick in the gizzard.”
Mackiever cradled his face in his hands. “With what?”
Walt took the flash drive out of his pocket and laid it on the Formica between Mac’s elbows.
“What’s that?”
“A video of snipers murdering three black teenagers during Hurricane Katrina.”
The colonel dropped his hands and blinked in disbelief. “Are you kidding?”
“No. They’re trained snipers, either military or police. I’m betting state police. The shooter used a silencer.”
A light came into Mackiever’s eyes. “Can you see their faces?”
“No. The footage was shot through a scope. Probably a spotting scope. But you can hear voices on the tape.”
“Clearly enough to recognize them?”
Walt thought about it. “I think so. With all the high-tech tools available now. If you’re lucky, one of the voices on the tape is Knox’s.”
Mackiever was clearly tempted. “If that’s true, it would not only destroy Knox, but the reputation of the state police.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Mac.”
Mackiever looked miserable.
“Don’t give Forrest any clue that you have this, or he’ll have time to make up some bullshit story to explain it.”
The colonel looked at Walt a couple of more seconds, then hung his head.
“What the hell did you expect when you brought me into this?” Walt demanded, looking around the restaurant. The fry cook behind the counter was staring at them.
“I thought I had forty-eight hours,” Mackiever said. “That’s what Knox told me in New Orleans. But he didn’t even give me twelve.”
“He’s being squeezed. His drug operations got hit in Concordia Parish this morning.”
“Really?”
Walt nodded. “I’m betting Penn Cage is behind it. Knox isn’t invincible, Mac. But you can’t fight a guy like that halfway. It’s kill or be killed, just like the old days.”
“I just wish we had something lethal, something that would damn Forrest alone.”
Walt thought about the derringer he’d planted in Knox’s house. Then he thought about the man he saw before him. Looking at the bloodshot eyes and resigned face, he saw nothing of the stalwart Ranger he’d once known.
Walt patted his own chest. “You remember what I always keep around my neck here, don’t you?”
Mackiever nodded dully. “A five-shot derringer.”
“That’s right. Let me run something by you. I was thinking . . . if you were to order a search of Knox’s home, and the search team found the gun that killed Trooper Dunn hidden there . . . that would change the game quite a bit. Wouldn’t it?”
Mackiever’s eyes had gone wide. “That derringer was the gun you used on Dunn?”