The Last Mile (Amos Decker 2)
And maybe my frank omission.
“I can understand that, Melvin. When was it taken?”
“When I graduated from high school. They were real proud. I’d already committed to UT. I was going away. My mom cried a lot.”
“And your dad?”
Mars hesitated. “Not so much.”
“Sometimes it’s that way with fathers.”
“Yeah.”
“Your mom was beautiful. Truly stunning.”
“Yeah, she was.”
A long moment passed as the two men stared at each other.
“Got something else on your mind?” Decker asked.
“It’s like I don’t exist, Decker.”
“Why do you say that?”
Mars glanced at him. “I don’t know anything about the two people in the photo. Where they came from. Who they really were. Why they were killed. Nothing. And since I came from them, meaning nothing, what can that make me?” He put up his hands. “Nothing.”
A minute of silence passed as the rain started to pick up outside. The drumming of the drops seemed to march in parallel with the heartbeats of each of the men.
Decker took out the picture of his wife and daughter and handed it across to Mars. Mars looked at it.
“Your family?”
Decker nodded.
“Your little girl is super cute.”
“Was super cute.”
Mars looked uncomfortable. “I know you must miss them.”
Decker leaned forward. “The point, Melvin, is that I knew everything about them. Everything. There was no mystery at all.”
“Okay,” said Mars slowly, evidently unsure of where this was going.
“And they’re gone. And I’m…nothing too. Same as you.”
Mars looked like he wanted to hit something. “So is that it? There’s nothing else? Then what the hell are we doing this for?”
“We’re doing it because there can be something else. It’s up to us.”
“But you just said—”
“I said I am nothing. Today. Tomorrow I may be something. That’s the only guarantee any of us have. It’s a big, free country. There are opportunities for all to do something.”
“It’s different for me.”
“Why?”
“Damn, why do you think? I’m black. You’re white. Biggest difference there is.”
“You think?”
“And you don’t? You got a bigger one?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of Longhorns and Buckeyes. Race doesn’t matter there, just winning.”
Mars gave him a smirk. “Nice one. But it don’t change reality. I’m a black ex-con, pardon or not. Remember them assholes from the truck diner?”
“Forget them. They’re a shrinking segment of society. But finding out who really did this can change things, Melvin.”
Mars shook his head, but Decker continued. “Half the people still think you killed your parents.”
“I don’t give a shit what they think.”
“Hear me out.”
Mars was about to say something else, but he stopped and nodded curtly.
Decker continued, “There are few things more powerful than the truth. Once you get truth on your side, good things tend to happen, black, white, or anything in between.”
“But you thought they were in this Witness Protection thing. They weren’t. So we’re right back where we started.”
“In a game when the play broke down and the first hole was plugged, what did you do, fall on the turf and give up?”
“Hell, what do you think?”
“So what did you do?”
“I found me another hole to run through.”
“Well, that’s what we’re going to do, Melvin. We’re going to find another hole to run through.”
“How?”
“Did your dad keep a safe at the house?”
“A safe? No.”
“Would he have used one at work? That only he would have access to?”
“They had a safe there, but my dad told me the owner was a real prick. Hovered over him all day, afraid he was stealing. Even after working there for years. So there’s no way that my dad would have been the only one to have access to that safe.”
“Then that really leaves only one alternative.”
CHAPTER
36
DECKER AND MARS faced the stone building as fresh storm clouds built overhead. Darkness had arrived early thanks to this new weather system.
“Texas First National Bank?” said Decker. “You’re sure this is it?”
“I had an account here when I was in high school, and later in college. My parents brought me here. It’s where they kept their money, what little they had.”
“They might have had more than you think.”
“If they’d had money why didn’t they spend some of it?”
“I wasn’t necessarily talking about cash,” replied Decker as he began to mount the broad steps leading to the bank’s front doors.
Inside, he made his request to a teller and they were quickly shuttled off to the assistant branch manager.
The man was short, in his early forties, bespectacled, with a paunch that protruded from between the flaps of his suit jacket. As he put out his hand he glanced at Mars and his jaw dropped.
“Melvin Mars?”
Mars nodded. “Do we know each other?”
“I’m Jerry Bivens. We went to high school together.”
Mars eyed him more closely.
Bivens said apologetically, “I didn’t play football. Not really built for it.”
Mars shook the man’s hand and forced a smile at Decker’s slight elbow nudge. “Yeah, Jerry, I remember you. How you doing?”
“All right. Married, four kids. Working my way up the corporate ladder. In five or six years I’ll probably be the branch manager.”
“Good for you, man.”
The two men stared awkwardly at each other.