“Through that door, down the hall.”
Henry found a water dispenser down the hall and drank two Dixie cups dry. Even the brief image of Viola Turner in obvious distress had shaken him to the core. Johnson’s revelation that he suspected Tom Cage of assisted suicide—or even murder—was too momentous for Henry to focus on now. He felt like an idiot for spending more than four hours with Viola Turner and failing to inspire enough faith for her to confide in him. After a third cup of water, he gathered himself, went back to the anteroom, and sat down.
“Wasn’t there a woman receptionist the last time I was here?” he asked distractedly.
“She got pregnant,” the young man said with apparent disdain.
Henry checked his watch twenty times before the DA’s door opened again, his mind on his upcoming interview across the river. Glenn Morehouse knew enough about the Double Eagles to break a dozen murder cases wide open, and Henry wasn’t about to postpone talking to him. If Shad Johnson didn’t come out of his office within five minutes, Henry was going to leave. He could retrieve his computer later. More than thirty minutes had passed since he’d started the video player for the DA. That made sense; the Superstream could hold thirty minutes of video at maximum resolution. What had Shad Johnson witnessed in that span of time? An assisted suicide? Or a brutal murder?
Thirty seconds before Henry’s self-imposed deadline, Johnson’s office door opened. With a sober look, the DA beckoned him back inside. Henry tried to read Johnson’s eyes, but he couldn’t tell much.
As soon as Shad closed the door behind Henry, he said, “That hard drive is evidence, Mr. Sexton. It’ll have to go into the evidence room at the sheriff’s department.”
“What’s on it?”
Shad sat down behind his desk. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“That’s my newspaper’s property, sir.”
“It’s evidence in a criminal case. End of discussion.”
“What about freedom of the press?”
Johnson gave him a thin smile. “In this situation, that and four dollars will buy you a cup of coffee. You can file a protest or hire a constitutional specialist, but that disk drive is going to the evidence room.”
Henry considered arguing further for appearance’s sake, but he didn’t have the time or the energy for a show. As long as he got out of the office with his PowerBook, he would have his own copy of the video file.
“Mr. Sexton,” Johnson said, “you’re a serious journalist, and I know you care about people. I’m going to ask you not to tell anyone about the existence of this tape. I feel pretty sure you won’t do it immediately in any case, because you write for a weekly paper and you don’t want Caitlin Masters at the Examiner getting the jump on you.”
Henry colored but said nothing.
“This case is very delicate,” Johnson continued. “I’m going to proceed with the utmost caution and deliberation. Do you understand?”
“You mean it involves the mayor’s father, and you don’t want your ass hanging out on a limb until you know you’re right.”
Shad raised his right hand and pointed at Henry. “Don’t fuck with me, Henry. I’m not a man you want for an enemy.”
Henry believed this, but he’d irritated more frightening people than Shadrach Johnson in his time. “Does the drive show an assisted suicide? Or a murder?”
Johnson turned the question back on him. “Do you know why anyone would want to murder Mrs. Turner?”
Henry swallowed hard, but he held his silence.
“Take your computer and go, Mr. Sexton. I may ask you to appear before a grand jury in the near future.”
There it was. All Henry had to do was pack his Mac into his briefcase and leave. Yet he stood rooted to the carpet, like a Cub Scout itching to confess a lie.
“What’s the matter?” Johnson asked.
“There’s something you should know,” Henry said awkwardly.
“What?”
“Members of the Double Eagle group threatened to kill Viola Turner if she ever returned to Natchez.”
Shad thought about this for a few moments. “When was this threat made?”
“Before she moved to Chicago.”
The DA looked confused. “You mean forty years ago?”
“That’s right. Mrs. Turner told me this during our second interview.”
“You’re talking about the Ku Klux Klan?”
“Not the Ku Klux Klan,” Henry said, making his annoyance plain. “The Double Eagles. They killed a lot of people, and they probably kidnapped and killed Mrs. Turner’s brother.”