Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fallen

“I assume the police have already been by to talk to you?”

“Yes. A Detective Lassiter. She asked me a lot of questions. I don’t think I was very helpful.”

“Well, I might ask you the same ones. What do you remember about that night?”

“Sirens.”

“I mean before that.”

“Remember the storm. It was a doozy.”

“Anything else?”

Bond sat back in his seat and scratched his chin. “I remember a car starting up and driving off.”

Decker said, “I heard that too. And I also saw a plane go over, a few minutes before the storm blew in.”

Surprisingly, Bond shook his head. “No, that wasn’t a plane.”

“No, it was. I saw it in the sky. The blinking lights and all through the clouds and fog. It was pretty damn low. So it was either taking off or more probably landing.”

“No, son, that wasn’t a plane.”

“But I saw it, Mr. Bond.”

“I know what you’re thinking. That I couldn’t see anything. Thing is, we never have a plane come low over here. No airports of any kind around here that I know about. And Pittsburgh is way to the south of us, and Cleveland way to the west. So even if they were landing or taking off, they’d be far up in the sky by the time they passed over here. But maybe you saw blinking lights and assumed it was a plane. But it was so cloudy, and even foggy, like you said, that you couldn’t see the actual plane, could you? You just saw lights?”

Decker blinked and let his memory frames go back to that moment in time.

I saw the lights or the reflection of lights. But that was all. The clouds and fog were too thick. But it had to be a plane.

Seeming to read his thoughts, Bond said, “And if it was that low, did you hear the engines? They’re pretty loud at low altitudes, even a prop plane. And I was outside that night, on my rear deck, before the storm started. And I didn’t hear anything like that.”

Decker broke out of his thoughts and shook his head. “I didn’t hear the engines. I just saw the lights.”

Bond chuckled. “You just assumed. That’s okay. Perfectly natural.”

“So, if it wasn’t a plane I saw up there, what was it?”

“Well, it does make me think of my grandson Jeremy.”

“Your grandson? How so?” asked Decker curiously.

“When he came to visit one time he brought it along to show me. Well, show me relatively speaking. I could hear it when he started it up.”

“Hear what ?” exclaimed Decker, because he needed the elderly man to get to the point.

“His drone . He’s got one of those big ones. He uses it to take aerial photos for his real estate business, and he also shoots amateur movies and uses it to get some neat shots from the sky. A lot cheaper than renting out a chopper. I think that’s what you probably saw that night. One of those big drones.”

Decker’s jaw dropped. A drone . “Wait a minute. Can you even fly a drone at night?”

“Oh, sure. Jeremy does it. In fact, he flew his around here last time he came. And that was at night. I’m sure there are rules and regulations about doing it. You have to have lights on the thing and all, I would imagine. And if you’re in a flight path or near an airport you probably have to get some sort of permission or waiver. And you have to be careful about what you’re taking pictures of. Right to privacy and all. I think you’d have legal problems if you flew over someone’s backyard and started taking pictures of them there, or through their windows. At least I think that’s what Jeremy told me when I asked him about it.”

“Okay, but what would a drone be doing here?”

Bond shrugged. “I don’t know, but I know it wasn’t Jeremy’s. He wasn’t here that night. He lives in Maryland. I know it wasn’t Alice Martin’s because she doesn’t have one. I doubt she’s ever even seen one. And Fred Ross? Bet if he saw a drone he’d shoot it out of the sky with his damn shotgun. That’s it for this street. Nobody else here. But it could have been somebody on another street. Jeremy told me that drones have different ranges. And once they hit the end of that range, they don’t go any farther. But Jeremy’s is a commercial model and it’s got a pretty good range.”

Decker had a sudden thought. “Could it have been a chopper and not a drone?”

Bond shook his head. “Choppers are real noisy. I would have definitely heard a chopper, and so would you at that low an altitude.”

“Makes sense. And the drone would have a camera attached, right?”

Bond nodded. “Sort of the point. You use a drone to take pictures or video. Though I guess there’s talk of using them to deliver stuff too. Anyway, Jeremy’s has a fancy camera on his. He told me he slides his phone right into the control box and the drone sends whatever it’s seeing right to his phone. Don’t really understand how all that works, but then I’m just an old fart. On this street, we’re all old farts. Well, I take that back. I never would call Alice a fart. She is a very dignified lady. Taught Sunday school.”

Decker said, “So you know Alice Martin?”

“Oh yes. She and my wife were really good friends. She came to the funeral.”

“And Fred Ross? You mentioned him and his shotgun. Do you know him well?”

Bond’s face wrinkled up. “I’ve had that displeasure for far too long.”

“Yeah, that’s what Alice Martin said. You say you were outside that night. Did you hear the drone?”

“No, I didn’t. You can hear it when it’s on the ground, but not high up in the air. They’re pretty quiet. At least Jeremy’s is.”

“Did you hear any other sound? It’s really important.”

Bond again scratched his chin. “Well, I did hear a weird sound I’ve never heard before. Something tapping and scraping. Over and over.”

Tapping and scraping. That’s actually a good description.

“I heard it too, but I couldn’t tell what it was,” said Decker. “So, you’ve never heard it before?”

Bond shook his head.

“But you could hear it from your back porch?”

“The yards here are small, and the houses are even smaller. It’s not that far from my back porch to the street.”

“And the car starting up and driving along? Did you recognize if it belonged to maybe Alice Martin?”

“Alice doesn’t drive and she doesn’t have a car.”

“I take it Ross doesn’t drive anymore, being in a wheelchair.”

“No, he does. He’s got his big van all rigged out. Chairlift and special controls so he can drive it even though he can’t move his legs. Well, at least he used to. When I still had my sight I would watch him driving it.”

“How was he disabled?”

“At the textile plant where he worked. Some big piece of equipment fell on him. Paralyzed from the waist down. That was decades ago.”

“That’s tough.”

“Well, it hasn’t made him exactly congenial. But, to tell the truth, Fred was an asshole even when he could walk.”

Decker smiled. “I could definitely see that.”

“Back then, I could see it too. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“No, you were of great help. Thank you.”

Decker left and walked back to his truck.

A drone.

So, who was watching what or who that night?

Surely, a stricken place.

Decker was on the rear deck of the Murder House looking at the back of the Mitchells’ home.

He had been gone all day. He had covered a lot of ground but didn’t feel as though he had made much progress. Unfortunately, that could be the textbook definition of being a homicide detective.

There was still a DEA agent on duty at the Murder House, but the flashing of Decker’s credentials had allowed him admittance per Kate Kemper’s instructions.