Page 145 of The 9th Man

“Still a lot of issues there to this day. And everywhere else too.”

He agreed.

“We had ourselves a tight-knit, family-oriented safe place. When these two men came lookin’ for me it was early ’64, about a month after I turned my pictures over to the FBI. We knew it wasn’t no coincidence.

“They tried hard to be discreet, but they stuck out like rat droppings in a bowl of rice. They had badges of some kind, though nobody got a good look at ’em. For days they drove around askin’ where I could be found. They didn’t get anywhere, of course, but it didn’t stop ’em from coming back. All through that year and a bit into the next. Sometimes it was the same men, other times different ones.

“See, I was born dirt-poor in my mama’s bed. No hospital records, no birth certificate, didn’t get a Social Security number until I got married. As far as the government was concerned, I didn’t exist.”

“Your good luck,” he said.

“I think so too. Anyway, after a while they stopped comin’ around. So we tucked those pictures away and never talked about them again.”

“That was smart,” Luke replied. “A lot of other people weren’t so smart.”

“Folks that are no longer with us, I presume?”

He nodded. “Recently departed.”

“Is this a government thing?”

“No, just one man. On his own.”

“Does this have somethin’ to do with what happened that day?”

“Most definitely.”

“And my pictures show somethin’ worrying?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Those kind of men tend to err on the side of caution when it comes to threats.”

“That’s a terrible way to be.”

“They’re terrible people.”

“Is there any chance they’ll come looking for me again?”

He shook his head. “Not if I have my way.”

“What would you do if I told you I destroyed the pictures and negatives a long time ago?”

“I’d thank you for your time and the delicious sweet tea, then be on my way.”

“You’re a nice boy, Luke.”

“And you’re a lovely lady.”

“I have the photos,” she said. “And the negatives. Victoria says you’re the man to trust. I can now say I agree with her. I’d be grateful if you took the whole lot off my hands. Could you do that for me?”

He smiled. “Happy to help, Miss Pearl.”

After dinner he and Kathleen retreated to the basement office, where the photo collection waited on a fold-out metal table. The collection was in pristine condition, the photos protected by archivist-quality sleeves. Similarly, the negatives were sealed in hermetic cannisters.

“Miss Victoria,” Kathleen said, “made sure they were all tucked away nice and safe. She’s a good person.”

One by one he compared each of Pearl’s photos against his memory of the ones he’d seen at College Park NARA until he’d picked out the three that weren’t there. Which he carried back upstairs, along with the one with Rowland in it he’d already seen.

Pearl waited at the dining room table sipping a cup of coffee. “Made one for you, Luke. You look like you could use a little boost.”