The Last Mile (Amos Decker 2)
McClellan spread his hands. “In my book knowing more is always better than knowing less.”
“I thought you’d see it that way,” said Decker, sitting back down. “So anyway, he has the goods, Chief. I know you don’t want to hear that, but he does. All these years coming back to bite you in the ass. I know it can’t be easy.”
“The goods?”
“Hard evidence. No statute of limitations on murder. You know that.”
“I do indeed, though I’m missing a few steps that you seem to have already made.” He chuckled. “You’re too quick for me.”
“I’m not here to ask you to confess. That’s not going to happen. You’ll play stupid till they lethal inject you.”
McClellan took a sip from his mug. “You’ve lost me again, big fella. What’s your name again?”
“Amos Decker. Did you know I played football for Ohio State? Melvin ran all over my ass when we played UT. Best running back I’ve ever seen, and I saw and played with some good ones.” He leaned forward. “But the thing is, Chief, I’d take Melvin any day with his cleats in my face over his old man.”
“Really? Why is that, son?”
r /> “Because Melvin has a conscience. His old man doesn’t. It was clear that he believed you boys screwed him over. And then when you found him out and came after him in Texas, that cost him everything. Roy had to shotgun his wife in the face. Only person he probably ever loved. Sent his son to prison. But that was small potatoes next to losing Lucinda. The guy’s only thinking about revenge now. And when he had that knife against my throat he told me what he was going to do to all of you.”
“Did he now?”
“I have hyperthymesia, do you know what that is?”
McClellan shook his head. “No idea. Sounds like that ADD thing.”
“It means I have perfect recall. Can never forget anything. So for me, time doesn’t heal all wounds. Because I remember them just as clearly this moment as the day they happened, regardless of the interval of time.”
“Doesn’t sound too good.”
“It sucks, actually.”
“And your point?”
“Roy Mars may have that same condition, but only with one memory that he holds. His wife. Time has not healed the man’s wounds over her. He has to blame someone. And he blames the three of you. And that is not good for your future well-being.”
McClellan edged forward. “Excuse me, son, but are you threatening me?”
“You’re a police chief, but face it, this is a podunk town. Roy could take you out when you’re drinking a beer at the local watering hole, or flipping burgers on your Weber, no sweat. Danny Eastland, now maybe he’s a tougher nut because he’s got money, but eventually he’ll go down too because even a mountain of cash means nothing when you have a psychopath like Roy coming after you. And then we have Thurman Huey, the big congressman on the Hill. But even he doesn’t have special protection unless he gets elected as Speaker. So bang-bang-bang. And see the biggest advantage that Roy Mars has is he doesn’t care if he dies. In fact, I believe he wants to die. But not before finishing the game.”
“So you think this is a game, do you?”
Decker rose. “Actually, I don’t. No more than those people in the church or the NAACP office thought it was a game when you assholes blew them into the next life.”
“You’re making some very wild accusations. I could get you on slander.”
“By the time you file the papers, you’ll either be Roy’s next victim and resting on a morgue slab, or else we’ll have enough evidence to take it from a slander case against me to a capital murder case against you.”
Decker headed to the door, but then turned back.
“Oh, one more thing. Roy Mars murdered Charles Montgomery’s wife. You don’t have to know why, just that he did. And his choice of murder weapon was an explosive device so sophisticated that the police could find no trace of it. Boom, she was gone, just like that. Sort of like the church, right? I wonder, did he make the explosive in that one too? If so, the man knows what he’s doing, that’s for damn sure.” Decker looked around. “Maybe he’s already planted one in here. Or in your car. Or at your house.”
“What the hell do you want from me?” asked McClellan.
“That’s the thing, Chief. I don’t need anything from you. Nothing at all.”
Decker opened the door and walked out.
CHAPTER
61
SO WHAT DID you think you’d accomplish?” said Bogart to Decker.
The two sat in Bogart’s room at the hotel in the town square of Cain.
Decker drank down a Coke and wiped his mouth. “I told him what I told him. He’s not going to stand pat. He’s going to do something. Make a call. Send an email. Get in a car. Jump on a plane.”
“You really think he’s going to crack? He struck me as a pretty hardened guy.”
“I told him somebody even tougher is after him.”
“Roy Mars?”
Decker nodded. “And did you notice something about McClellan’s office?”
“What in particular?” said Bogart.
“On his photo wall of fame.”
“There were lots of pictures. I saw one of him and Thurman Huey, in fact.”
“I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about one that wasn’t there.”
“I don’t get that,” said Bogart.
“There was a picture on the wall that’s no longer there. You could see where the wall was darker.”
“Why would he take a picture down?”
“Only one reason,” said Decker. “We would have recognized whoever was in it.”
“Who the hell could that have been?”
“I don’t know.”
Bogart glared at him. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“And there’s something else. McClellan tried to act surprised, but he knew Roy was alive. I mean he really knew. Not just speculation.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but McClellan is going to make a mistake. We just need to be there when he does.”
“And if, instead, he and his buddies get their acts together and stonewall us?”
“That’s always a possibility.”
“I wish that you had discussed your strategy with me before you went ahead and deployed it.”
“I was just trying to seize the moment. What do we know so far?”
“I put tracers on his phones and his Internet connections. I have local agents watching his movements. If he does snap and goes running or emailing to one of the other Musketeers, we’ll know about it. But so far, nothing.”
Decker checked his watch. It was late.
“I think we need to get some sleep.”
* * *
Melvin Mars was tossing and turning when his phone buzzed at two in the morning. He snatched it up and looked at the screen.
Out by the car in ten. We need to talk. Decker.
“Shit,” muttered Mars.
He struggled into his clothes and left his room. It was a short walk to the parking lot. He found the car and looked around.
“Mellow?”
Mars froze at the name. Then he slowly turned.
His father stood ten feet away, next to another parked car.
“How did you—” began Mars.
“I got your contact info off your buddy’s phone when I broke into his motel room before. He should really use a password. You just assumed the text was from Decker because I used his name.”
“Dad, what the hell are you doing?”
“Not here. Let’s take a ride.” He pointed to the car.