Дэвид Балдаччи - Redemption

He remembered that behind the cutout was an open space in between the studs. The gun inside a box had been found there. There had been no prints found on either item. He looked down at the floor. The closet was carpeted, and it looked to be the same carpet as during the Hawkinses’ time here. He got down on his knees and hit it with his light.

What are you doing, Decker? After all this time did you think you were going to find a smoking gun in the frigging carpet?

He straightened and finally admitted to himself that he was grasping at straws. He had not a sliver of a lead on this investigation. Either with the murders all those years ago, or with Meryl Hawkins’s more recent one.

He rose and left the bedroom.

And that’s where Decker ran right into a wall of police with a grinning Blake Natty bringing up the rear.

It was the same cell where Decker — pretending to be a lawyer — had scammed his way in to meet with a prisoner who had confessed to murdering Decker’s family.

He didn’t know if this cell selection had been made intentionally, but he doubted it was a coincidence. Someone was definitely trying to send a message.

The police waiting for him in Hawkinses’ old house had been the first sign. His being read his Miranda rights for interfering with a police investigation had been his second, and more visceral, sign.

But Decker was nothing if not a patient man. He leaned back against the cinderblock wall and waited. They knew where he was. At some point they would have to come to him, because he could not come to them.

An hour later a surprising figure appeared in front of the steel bars.

To her credit, Sally Brimmer didn’t look pleased to see him in a jail cell.

He glanced up at her.

“Ms. Brimmer. Having a nice day?”

“Apparently better than the one you’re having.”

“I wouldn’t argue with that.”

She drew closer to the bars and spoke in a low voice. “Why did you push it? You know Blake hates you.”

“I don’t care whether he hates me or not. I have a job to do and I’m going to do it.”

“But you’re not part of the police force anymore. This isn’t your problem.”

“It is my problem if I helped send an innocent man to prison.”

“Do you really believe he was innocent?”

“Let’s just put it this way: I have a lot more doubts about his guilt than I used to.”

“Okay, but does it really matter? The guy’s dead.”

“It matters to me. It matters to his memory. He has a daughter who thinks her father killed four people.”

Brimmer’s cheeks reddened. “I really hated you for conning me that time.”

“I took full responsibility for it. I didn’t want you to suffer because of what I did.”

“I know that man helped murder your family. I... I guess I was surprised you didn’t kill him in the cell.”

“I wasn’t sure he’d done it. In fact, I had doubts.” He paused. “I have to be sure, Ms. Brimmer. It’s the way I’m wired.”

“I guess I can see that. And I brought that up only because...” Her voice trailed off and she looked around nervously. “Because I would have done the same thing if it were me.”

He rose and went over to the bars separating them. “Can you do something for me?”

She took a step back looking wary. “What?”

“I need to look at the files from the Richardses’ and Katz’s murders.”

“But I thought you had. I saw the guy taking the boxes to the conference room that day.”

“I got involved in running down potential witnesses and didn’t get to the files before, well, before I ended up in here.”

“But surely you read them all from when it happened.” She glanced upward at his forehead. “And I heard you can’t forget anything.”

Now Decker took a step back and wouldn’t meet her eye. “I didn’t read them all back then. In particular the pathology report.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t have to testify to that. The ME did.”

She didn’t look convinced.

He finally looked at her and said, “I screwed up, Ms. Brimmer. It was my first case as a homicide detective. I thought Hawkins was good for it pretty much right from the start. So I didn’t dot all the i’s or cross all the t’s.”

Surprisingly, she smiled at this.

“What?” he said in reaction to her look.

“That’s actually comforting.”

“How so?”

“I thought you were infallible, like a machine. Now I know you actually are human.”

“Depends on who you ask, actually. Can you get me the files?”

“I guess I can make copies. But I can’t bring them to you here.”

“I won’t be here much longer.”

Her brow wrinkled. “How do you know that?”

“There is something known as a bail hearing. It’s sort of required.”

“Do you have a lawyer?”

“No, but I’m good on that.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Blake is not going to make it easy.”

“I never thought he would.”

“I guess you’re wondering why I’m... I mean, he and I...”

“It’s none of my business. And I’m not judging anybody. I don’t have the right.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But I will give you a piece of advice. I had a daughter once.”

“I know,” she said, looking pained.

“And if she had had a chance to grow up, I would never let her near Blake Natty. Take that for what it’s worth. The fact that he’s seeing you while he’s still married should tell you all you need to know about the guy.”

Brimmer looked at him sadly, then turned and hurried off.

The Judge did a double take when he looked down first at the docket sheet and then up at Amos Decker, who stood behind the counsel table.

At the prosecutor’s table stood Elizabeth Bailey, a veteran prosecutor who knew Decker quite well. They had worked numerous cases together while he’d been on the police force.

Behind the waist-high rail where the public could sit, there were only two people: Blake Natty and Superintendent Peter Childress, a tall portly man in his late fifties with gray hair cut short and a puffy, pockmarked face. He had on a dark suit, crisply starched white dress shirt, a blue-and-white-striped tie, and a white pocket square.

“Decker?” said the judge, a diminutive man in his late sixties with a reedy neck and an abundance of silvery hair that contrasted starkly with his dark robe. He peered at Decker through thick black-framed glasses. “Amos Decker?”

“Yes, Judge Dickerson. It’s me.”

“Obstruction of justice charge?” said Dickerson, glancing at the charging document. “Interfering with a police investigation? I thought you were with the police.”

“I left to join the FBI a couple of years ago, but I’m still a sworn officer here in Burlington.”

Dickerson moved his lips as he read something off the papers lying in front of him. Then he slid off his glasses, set them down, steepled his hands, and looked at the prosecutor.

She stood there looking quite anxious.

“Ms. Bailey, can you explain to me what in the world is going on here?” said Dickerson.

Bailey was in her forties, her frame big-boned. The woman’s blonde hair had dark roots. She wore a beige suit and white blouse along with a small chain necklace. Bailey took a moment to deliver a quick scowl at Natty. She cleared her throat as she looked back at the judge.

“Mr. Decker is being charged with obstruction of justice and interfering with a police investigation.”

For a moment it looked like she might continue, but Bailey set her lips in a firm line and said nothing more.