The Last Mile (Amos Decker 2)

Mars nodded. “Yeah, I mean we got requests. They came through UT. ESPN and some others wanted to do a story on my parents. The newspaper in Austin, even the New York Times came calling.”

“And?” asked Decker.

“My parents turned all that down. They didn’t want to talk to nobody.”

“Didn’t you find that strange?”

“Well, looking back, yeah. But you got to understand, man, everything was going a million miles an hour for me right then. I barely had time to breathe. It was like every week somebody was honoring me with something. Hell, even my old elementary school had a Melvin Mars Day that I went to speak at. So I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on my parents. I knew they were proud of me. That was all cool.”

Jamison said, “I’m sure they were, but their reluctance to be in the public eye may mean something.” She glanced at Decker. He nodded.

She said in a low voice, “Decker thinks your parents might have been in Witness Protection.”

Mars’s eyes widened and he gaped at Decker.

Davenport said, “That would make

sense, actually. And explain a lot.” She looked at Decker. “Can we verify it?”

“Working on it,” said Decker as he continued to study Mars.

Mars said, “Why would my parents be in Witness Protection? Isn’t that for, like, criminals who ratted people out?”

“Not always, no. Innocent people have gone into Witness Protection because they helped bring down bad elements and because of that their lives were in jeopardy.”

Mars mulled over this. “I guess that might make sense. But they never said anything to me about it.”

“I would imagine not,” said Davenport. “Telling you might lead to bad things. You might slip up and mention something. I’m sure the protocols for the U.S. Marshals are to have as few people as possible know.”

Mars nodded but still looked stunned by this possibility.

Decker stirred. “Did your parents go to the elementary school event?”

Mars composed himself and said, “Yeah. It was the only thing I remember them going to, actually. It was just a little ceremony in the auditorium. I spoke to the kids and teachers. Then some little kids brought up this plaque and presented it to me. I got my pictures taken with the principal and some of the teachers I had when I was there.”

“And your parents?”

“Well, they were in the audience.”

“They didn’t come up onstage?”

“No way. They would never have done that. They hated stuff like that. Wanted to keep in the background.”

“And did you leave together?”

Mars knitted his brows, obviously thinking back. “Yeah, we did, actually.” He flinched a bit and then eyed Decker. “When we were coming out of the school there was a local TV film crew there. We didn’t know they would be there. Sort of a surprise. But they talked to me. I did a little interview right there. Talked about my time at the school, the award I’d been given. All feel-good stuff.”

“And your parents?”

“They were behind me.”

“And in the camera’s eye.”

“Well, yeah, I guess. The dude was doing sweeps of the crowd.”

“And did you mention your parents?”

“Yeah. I turned and pointed them out—” Mars stopped.

“And did the footage play on TV?”

Mars dumbly nodded. Then he said, “And ESPN picked it up and played parts of it over the next couple days. I remember seeing it.”

Decker sat back. “So that’s what started all this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your parents being on national television.”

“But you said my father probably had plastic surgery done. To change his face.”

“Maybe he did but it didn’t change it enough.”

Davenport said, “Decker, are you saying someone saw the Marses on TV and then came to Texas and killed them?”

“It’s one theory, yes.”

“And the people who did it were the reason the Marses were put in Witness Protection in the first place?” asked Jamison.

Decker nodded.

Mars said, “But you’re talking a long time ago.”

“Some people never stop looking,” said Decker. “I speak from experience. So the passage of time means nothing.”

Jamison shot him a quick glance but said nothing.

“So can we find out for sure if my parents were, you know, in Witness Protection?”

“I have Agent Bogart running that down for us.”

“Bogart?” exclaimed Davenport.

“But it may take time,” added Decker.

“Then what do we do in the meantime?” asked Jamison.

“Like I told you before, we head back to Texas.”

“What about the guy who might have killed Regina Montgomery?” asked Davenport.

“I think he might already be in Texas.”

“Why?” asked Davenport.

“Because there’s a big piece of this that makes no sense to me.”

“Such as?” asked Jamison.

“Such as a man who kills. And saves someone at the same time.”

CHAPTER

31

DECKER AND MARS didn’t have the money for airfare, though Jamison and Davenport did. They were willing to put the men’s airline tickets on their credit cards, but both refused the offer. Mars said he did not feel right about accepting anything from anyone.

“We’ll drive back to Texas in the rental the FBI is paying for,” said Decker. “You two fly and we’ll meet you at the same motel.”

“Are you sure?” asked Davenport. “We can drive back with you.”

“Melvin and I can talk. And you two do not want to spend all that time in a car with us. When you land, you can get rooms there. Bogart emailed me and told me he had authorized government vouchers for five more days each for all of us. I’ll forward you the info and you can use them. When you get back, check in with the local police to see if anything has happened since we’ve been gone.”

“Happened?” said Jamison. “Like what?”

“Anything inexplicable.”

“And you don’t like inexplicable, that I know.”

“No, I don’t. I hate it, in fact.”

* * *

The women made their flight arrangements while Decker gassed up the car and packed his few belongings. Mars had done the same. The state of Texas had given him some money after he left prison, to purchase some clothes, shoes, and other essentials, along with a duffel bag to carry it in.

Decker had spoken with Mary Oliver before they’d left to return to Texas. She was busy preparing the paperwork to get Mars his official compensation from the state. She had also hinted to Decker that she had another strategy in mind and would fill him in later.

“What strategy?” he’d asked.