Дэвид Балдаччи - Redemption

“No, she and my father both passed away.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It happens. You want me to get this wine going?”

“Yes, please. My Dewar’s seems ages ago. The opener’s in that drawer.”

He poured out two glasses and handed one to her as he sniffed the air. “Something smells good. What’s for dinner?”

“Caprese to start, chicken parm with my own secret sauce for the main, and cannoli to finish. Call it my Italian extravaganza.”

“You did that after working all day?”

“I like to cook. But I admit the cannoli is store-bought.”

“Still, damn impressive. You need any help?”

“You did your job by opening the wine and bringing the flowers.”

“Guys always get cut slack.”

“You are a wise man, Mr. Mars.”

They ate about a half hour later. After they were finished, Mars insisted on clearing and cleaning. “You cooked and now it’s my turn,” he said firmly.

As she watched him collect the dishes, she stroked the stem of her wineglass and said, “I hope the woman you’re seeing appreciates what she has.”

“I think she does. But in a relationship, you gotta keep working it, from both sides.”

“David used to say the same thing.”

Mars rinsed the plates, glasses, and utensils and put them in the dishwasher. “Sounds like you two had a great relationship.”

“We did. Only it was cut short.”

Mars finished up and joined her in the living area, sitting next to her on the couch. She drew her legs up under her, holding out her glass as he refreshed her wine.

“Right. That was beyond tragic.”

“But at least I thought it was over. And now Decker is back opening the whole thing up because he’s convinced Meryl Hawkins didn’t do it. But if he didn’t, who did?”

“Did your husband have any enemies?”

“No, nothing like that. I told Decker the same thing.”

“Maybe Don Richards had enemies. Or your husband was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That’s what I thought had happened, but I also thought that Hawkins had committed the murders. And it was a robbery or a burglary. Things were taken.”

“That could have just been a cover.”

She nodded slowly but hardly seemed convinced of this.

Mars said, “When you invited me here tonight, it seemed that you had something on your mind. You said you wanted to talk.”

Katz set her glass down and looked over at him. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Like you said at lunch, people are dying, Melvin. Hawkins. Susan Richards. That woman from the police department.”

“I know, Rachel. It is scary.”

“And someone murdered my husband. And... everything from the past just seems to be coming back. It’s like I’m being haunted by ghosts I thought were long buried.” She put a hand to her face and wiped at her suddenly teary eyes.

He put an arm around her shoulders. “Let me tell you something. Not that long ago, I was in a world of trouble. I mean bad, bad stuff. Then Decker came along. And he got to the truth and the man changed my life. After twenty years of people believing that a lie was the truth. But not him. Not Decker. He just keeps digging. Dude never stops.”

Katz shivered a bit. “He sounds like a man to be reckoned with.”

“Oh, he is. And people have tried. And he just keeps rolling.”

“Does... does he understand that there can be different shades of truth?”

He drew a bit away from her, watching the woman closely. “Such as?”

“I mean, there are times when you can tell the truth, but people may not see it as the truth, not the same way that the person telling it does. And... and sometimes people feel they have to do things for, you know, reasons that might seem...”

“Seem what?”

“Wrong, I guess. But not to the person having to do the things. They might think it’s the only thing they can do.”

Mars looked confused by all this. “You’ve lost me.”

“I... look, never mind. I know I’m not making much sense.”

“Take your time. I’ve got nowhere to go.”

She changed the subject. “So, Decker really believes that Hawkins was innocent?”

Mars looked at her for a long moment, clearly disappointed in the change in direction of the conversation. “Let’s put it this way. Hawkins didn’t try to kill Decker twice, because the man was already dead when those events occurred.”

“You mean someone doesn’t want the truth to come out? They’re trying to stop Decker. And they silenced Hawkins because he might know something?”

“That’s the way we see it, yeah.” He paused. “So, do you know something that could help us?”

“If I did, I would’ve told you. I would’ve told people thirteen years ago.”

“But there are shades of truth, that’s what you just said.”

She moved slightly away from him, as though symbolically distancing herself from this conversation. “It’s amazing what a few drinks will do to loosen someone up,” she said, tacking on a brief smile.

“I’m just trying to get to the truth, Rachel. That’s all.”

“But sometimes the truth doesn’t set us free, does it? Sometimes it traps us.”

“Is the truth trapping you?”

“No, of course not. I was just... speculating. Talking off the top of my head.”

He took her hand. “I want to help you, Rachel.”

“But you work with Decker.”

“That shouldn’t matter. I already told you I don’t think you killed anybody.”

“But...” she said quickly, and then stopped.

“But what?”

She abruptly rose. “I’m really tired all of a sudden. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

Mars stared up at her, and then his expression changed. He leapt up and tackled her as one of the large glass windows shattered. They both fell heavily to the floor, as the shot fired through the window hit its intended target.

“Son of a bitch!” cried out Decker.

He and Lancaster leapt out of his car, which was parked down the street and across from Katz’s building. They drew their guns and hunkered down next to the vehicle.

“There,” said Lancaster, pointing to the opposite building. “The shot came from there. I saw the muzzle flash.”

“Call in reinforcements,” bellowed Decker as he punched in Mars’s number.

It rang and rang, with no answer.

“Shit.”

“Do you think the shooter’s still there?” said Lancaster, putting away her phone after making the call. “If we go to check on Mars and Katz?”

“Right, he’ll pick us off.” He glanced at Lancaster. “It could be the same guy who killed Brimmer. You wait here for the cops to show. Keep trying to call Melvin.” He texted the number to her phone.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going after the shooter.”

“Amos—”

But he was already running down the street, keeping right next to the building where the shot came from, to make it difficult for whoever was in there to draw a bead on him.

He reached the front entrance of the building and looked it over. Plywood on the lower windows. The place looked abandoned. But it had a perfect sightline into Katz’s apartment from the upper floors.

He raced up the steps to the front entrance and noted that the large double doors were chained shut. He heaved his bulk against them, but not even his size and strength could budge them.

He hustled on down the street, turned left at the next intersection, and raced down it. He was listening at the same time for a car starting up or footsteps running away. The night air was brisk and the sky clear for once.

He could hear nothing except his own breathing.