Дэвид Балдаччи - Redemption

He took a seat and stared down at the field where he had been a superstar many years before. The only player in Burlington High history to go on to play in the NFL, if only for one play. He wrapped himself in his coat and stared moodily out.

As his gaze drifted to the right, he flinched as he saw her coming toward him. Mary Lancaster slowly made her way up the metal steps and sat down next to him.

“Didn’t we do this before?” she said.

He nodded. “In the rain. After the school shootings. How’d you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. You know my house backs up to the school. I take walks late at night. I saw you.”

He nodded again. “But it’s after one in the morning. It’s not really safe for you to be out alone.”

“And it is for you?”

“Well,” he said. “I’m a lot bigger than you.”

She opened her coat and he saw her pistol riding in its holster. “Someone wants to try to mug me, they’ll be eating a round.”

“I can see that. So, how’s it going?”

“It’s going. I hear you’re making progress on the case.”

“From who do you hear that?”

“Of all people, Natty. He seems to have had a change of heart about you after Sally was killed.”

Decker said, “Did you know they were seeing each other?”

Lancaster looked stunned. “What? No, I didn’t. Natty’s married.”

“Sally had ended it with him. She knew it wasn’t right.”

Lancaster shook her head. “I never saw that coming. And I still can’t believe she’s dead.”

He glanced at her as the rain picked up. She had on a long trench coat and a ball cap. Her gray hair flowed out from underneath it. She looked to Decker like she was carrying an enormous weight on her slender shoulders.

“Are you ill, Mary? I mean really ill?”

She didn’t look at him, but kept her gaze on the field. “Why do you ask that?”

“Because you’re not the same. You’ve changed. And I don’t think it’s just because of what’s happening with you and Earl.”

She clenched her hands and then flexed them straight. “I’m not terminal, if that’s what you want to know. I don’t have cancer, despite my smoking.”

“What, then?”

She didn’t answer right away. When Lancaster did respond, her voice held a resigned tone. “Ever heard of early onset dementia?”

Decker gaped. “Dementia? You’re still young, same age as me.”

She gave him a sad smile. “That’s why they call it ‘early,’ Amos.”

“Are they sure? When were you diagnosed?”

“About six months ago. And they are sure. Brain scans, more MRIs than I can remember, blood work, biopsies, everything. I’m on meds, treatment.”

“Then they can turn it around?” he said, with a small measure of relief in his voice.

She shook her head. “No, there is no cure. It’s just holding the progression back as long as possible.”

“What’s the prognosis, then?” he said quietly.

“Hard to say. It’s not like there are a million cases like me. And everyone’s reaction is apparently different.”

“Can they give you an estimate?”

She drew a long breath and her face quivered with emotion. “In a year I might not be able to recognize myself or anyone else. Or it could be five years. But not much beyond that. I won’t even be fifty.”

A long moment of silence passed, as tears slid down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, Mary.”

She wiped her eyes and waved this off. “I don’t need sympathy, Decker, least of all from you. I know it’s not your thing.” She patted his shoulder and added in a kinder tone, “But I appreciate the effort.”

“How did you know something was wrong?”

“When I woke up one morning and couldn’t remember Sandy’s name for about a minute. I blew that off, chalked it up to overwork. But little things like that started to happen with more frequency. That’s when I went to the doctor.”

Decker sat back and thought about his momentary inability to remember Cassie’s favorite color. “Is that the reason for you and Earl splitting up?”

“Earl is a good guy, couldn’t ask for a better one. But he has enough to do taking care of Sandy. I do not need to add to his burden.”

“A good guy would not see it as a burden.”

She looked at him. “Cassie never saw you as a burden, I hope you know that.”

Decker looked away, his gaze drifting over the field where he had run like the wind, opposing players bouncing off him like pebbles flung against a mighty oak, people cheering him on, a normal kid with abnormal, even freakish athletic talent. Those had been some of the happiest times of his life, only to be dwarfed on the happiness scale by his time as a husband and father.

“I know that,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think you should give up on Earl that easily. The words are ‘in sickness and in health.’”

“‘Till death do us part.’ Those vows are easy to make when you’re young, healthy and happy and in love, your whole life ahead of you.”

“Are you still in love with Earl?”

She looked at him, startled. “What?”

“I’m still in love with Cassie. I’ll always love her. I don’t care if she’s dead. But Earl isn’t dead. Earl is right here. I would give anything for Cassie to be here. And nothing, not early onset dementia or anything else, would keep me from her. Any second without her would be a waste of my life.”

Decker rose and walked down the steps as the rain picked up.

Mary Lancaster watched him every step of the way.

“You look tired. Didn’t you sleep okay?”

Mars asked this as he and Decker sat in the dining area of the Residence Inn the next morning having coffee.

“Slept like a baby,” lied Decker. He sat back and fiddled with his paper napkin. “Planning went into this. They had to get the print, the DNA, and come up with the light switch plate. They had to kidnap David Katz. They had to commit the murders, leave the evidence, and flee the crime scene. This was clearly premeditated.”

“I agree.”

“So why did they pick that night, then? To do it? Was it just a coincidence that it was around the time of the only known phone call between the two men for a long while?”

“Maybe they found out about the phone call another way. What time did it happen?”

“Twelve-ten p.m.”

“And Richards got the call at work?”

“It was his cell phone, but because of the time presumably it was—” Decker sat up straighter, his eyes wide.

“What?” said Mars, looking a bit alarmed.

“It was on a Monday in October.”

“Okay.”

“It was actually also Columbus Day.”

“A holiday, then.”

“Yes, and that meant two things. There was no school and the bank was closed.”

“So where was Richards when he got the call, if not at the bank?”

“He could very well have been at home,” said Decker.

“With his kids. And his wife. Do you think one of them might have overheard something, and then told someone?”

“That’s certainly possible. But regardless, they would have had to act fast. Get the print on the switch plate and take it with them to the Richardses’. Then someone scratches Hawkins’s arms and collects his DNA that way.”

“And you think it was his daughter, Mitzi.”

“It would explain why he kept quiet. He would obviously know who scratched him.”

Mars said thoughtfully, “I see what you mean. His wife was dying, and he didn’t want their daughter to get into trouble, even if it cost him his freedom.”

Decker nodded. “When they finish testing the DNA sample, I bet it will show that Mitzi’s DNA is also mixed up in what we found under Abigail’s nails.”