David Baldacci - Memory Man

“Is that what you want?”

“Not up to me.”

“You’re right. It’s largely up to a judge and a jury. But you still have input. So, you want to tell me what happened?”

Decker checked his watch. Four minutes had passed. And at any moment someone might walk by who knew him. He turned so that his back was to the cell door.

“I killed them,” said Leopold simply. He was staring dead at Decker now, and Decker was looking for any hint of recognition in the other man’s eyes. If he saw it, what would he do? Strangle the man like he might have done to his daughter?

Leopold started moving his hands again. He looked like a conductor leading an orchestra that didn’t exist. Decker watched for a few moments, then refocused.

“And why did you do that?”

“Dude pissed me off.”

“What dude?”

“The dude. Dude that lived there.”

“How he’d piss you off?”

“Just pissed me off.”

“But how?”

“Didn’t show me no respect.”

“You worked there? You were a customer there? At the 7-Eleven on DeSalle?”

Leopold ignored this and said, “Well, I got him, didn’t I?”

“How’d you do that?”

“Killed his family.”

“No, I mean how did you know where he lived?”

“Followed him.”

“How?”

Now there came a caution in the man’s eyes that Decker had not seen before.

“I don’t need to tell you shit. You a cop? Trying to trick me?”

“You confessed, Mr. Leopold. There’s nothing left to trick. Do you see that?”

Leopold blinked and rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, I guess I see that.”

“And, no, I’m not a cop. So you followed him. How?”

“What do you mean, how?”

“Car, foot, bike?”

“Ain’t got no damn bike.”

“So a car?”

“If I ain’t got a bike, I ain’t got no car.”

“So on foot, then?”

Leopold nodded slowly and then studied Decker closely, perhaps to see his reaction to this.

Decker wrote something down on his pad. He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow even though it was cold in the basement cell. If he was discovered here, he could go to jail. And he didn’t actually like talking to people, so the briefer the better. But he had to do this. This might be his only chance.

“So you found out where this ‘dude’ lived and then you planned to kill his family. But you waited a month or so. Why?”

“Who said I waited a month?”

“That’s what you told the police.”

Leopold hunkered back down, the rat hiding among the crevices. Only there was no place to hide in here.

“Okay, that’s right. I had to plan it out. Watch the place, see what the lay of the land was, so to speak.”

Decker glanced down at the tattoo. “When were you in the Navy?”

Leopold’s eyes flashed for just a second. “Who says I was?”

Decker pointed at the tat. “Two dolphins. Sailors often have those. You have it positioned so it won’t show from under your uniform sleeve, per regulations.”

Leopold looked down at the tat as though it had betrayed him.

“I’m not in the Navy.”

“So you got the lay of the land and then went there that night. Take me through it.”

Decker glanced over his shoulder at a sound. But it was only the jailer walking down the corridor. He rubbed another bead of sweat off his cheek.

“Take you through it?” parroted Leopold.

“From the moment you got there to the moment you left. Let’s start with how you got there.”

“Walked.”

“House address?”

Leopold hesitated. “It was a two-story, yellow siding, carport on the side.”

“How’d you get in?”

“Side screen door into the kitchen.”

“Remember any details of the room?”

“It was a damn kitchen, man. Stove, dishwasher, table, and chairs.”

“Remember the color of the walls?”

“No.”

Decker glanced at his watch again. He had to speed this up, and his anxiety at being here was growing by the second.

“Who’d you kill first?”

“The dude. Thought it was the guy that dissed me. But I guess it wasn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Pictures in the paper. After.”

“Go on.”

“He was at the kitchen table. Been drinking.”

“How do you know that?”

Leopold looked up, obviously irritated. “Why you keep me asking me that?”

“Because the cops will. The court will. The jury will want to know these things.”

“Hell, I confessed.”

“They can still try you.”

Leopold looked shocked by this. “Why?”

“To make themselves look good. How do you know he’d been drinking?”

“Beer bottles on the table.”

“How’d you kill him? He was a lot bigger than you.”

“He was drunk. I took my knife and cut him, right here.” He pointed at his neck.

“He was found in the adjoining room.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right. But, see, he crawled in there, after I cut him. Bleeding like a bitch. Then he, hell, he just didn’t move again.”

“Did he make any sounds?”

Leopold said, “Yeah, but not no loud ones.” He pointed to his neck again. “Got him here. Couldn’t make much noise.”

“Remember what he was wearing?”

Leopold looked blankly at him. “Long time ago. Pants? Shirt?”

“What next?”

“Knew he had a family. Went to go kill them too.”

“Take me through it,” Decker said calmly, though he was feeling the opposite. His heart was beating so fast he could feel the pulses in every part of his body, like he had a thousand tiny hearts pumping madly.

Almost there, just hang on, Amos, just hang on.

“I went up the stairs. First room on, on—”

“The left?” suggested Decker.

Leopold pointed at him. “Yep. The left.”

“And?”

“And I went in. She was in the bath — no, she was on the bed. That’s right, on the bed. Pretty little thing. She had a nightie on. See right through it. Damn, the bitch looked good.”

Decker gripped the edge of his chair and kept his eyes on Leopold. His wife had not been raped. That had been confirmed. But there had been something else.

“So the light was on?” Decker asked.

“What?”

“You said you could see right through her nightie. I was assuming the light was on.”

Leopold looked unsure. “No, I don’t think it was.”

“Then what?”

“I stood over her.”

“While she was lying in the bed?”

Leopold looked crossly at him. “Shit, man, can you let me tell it?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“I had my gun. I put it against her forehead and I shot her.”

“What kind of gun?”

Leopold answered right away. “Forty-five. Smith and Wesson.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Stole it off some guy.”

“Guy have a name?”

Leopold just shrugged.

“Keep going.”

Overhead Decker could hear doors opening and feet trooping around. It seemed some of the cops were returning from the high school.

“So I shot her. No, wait a minute. She did wake up, come to think. She sat up, she was starting to scream. That’s right. And I shot her. Then the bitch fell off the bed.”

“Flat on the floor? Her whole body?”

Leopold looked at him warily. “Maybe parta her got hung up. Foot or arm or something.”

“What then?”

This was the critical point. The one that had not made it into the papers. The wound to her head was not the only one Cassie had suffered. It had been discovered during the autopsy.

She had not been raped. But the outside of her genitals had been mutilated.

“Knew he had a daughter. I went down the hall to her room. She was sleeping.”