David Baldacci - The Last Mile

Decker said, “I wish you luck with that. But that’s not why I’m here.” He looked at Mars. “I’m here about the murders of your parents.”

Mars swiveled his head to stare at Decker. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“You got paper and pen, ’cause it’s a lot of stuff.”

“I have a good memory,” said Decker. “I don’t forget much.”

The door to the room opened and Jamison came in. She had apparently heard what Decker had said. She held up a recorder.

She said, “But my memory’s not as good, so I always use this.”

“Alex Jamison, Melvin Mars,” said Decker. “She’s also part of the team.”

They shook hands.

Jamison said, “My colleague really wanted to take on this case, Mr. Mars. It’s the only reason we’re here.”

“Yeah, that’s what he told me,” said Mars, staring dead at Decker.

“Tell me about the night your parents were killed,” said Decker as Jamison turned on her recorder.

“If you’re up to it,” said Oliver quickly, placing a protective hand on Mars’s shoulder. “You took a real beating.”

Mars said, “I’m good. You want me to start at the beginning?”

“Yes.”

And Mars did. He talked for well over an hour. Decker frequently interrupted to ask a question or to clarify a point. When Mars was done, Decker said nothing for a few moments.

“You were visiting a friend that night?”

“Yeah, like I said. Ellen Tanner.”

“Where and when did you meet Ellen Tanner?” asked Decker.

Mars frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Right now, everything has to do with everything else,” said Decker matter-of-factly.

Mars drew a long breath, licked his swollen lips, and said, “I met Ellen at a university alumni event the team attended. This was like a few weeks before. She was a big football fan. Good-looking woman. Fun. Smart. We hit it off. We saw each other a lot, actually. And we made plans to see each other that night.”

“And you drove there?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you do while you were there?”

“We had a couple of beers. She had some pot but I said no. That could blow my chance to play in the NFL.”

“Did you two sleep together?”

“She testified that we did.”

“What do you remember?” asked Jamison.

“We had sex, so what?”

“And then you left?”

“Yeah. I had a practice session with my trainer the next morning and wanted to get home and hit the sack. Then my car conked out. So I pulled into the motel and spent the night there.”

Decker said, “The thing is, the timeline provided by Tanner and the motel clerk does not coincide with your story.”

Mars rubbed his eyes. “I know. I heard them testify. All I can tell you is what I know. And I know when I left Ellen’s place. And I know when I checked into the motel.”

Decker sat back. “Your credit card was used at a time that backs up the motel clerk’s account, not yours.”

“You don’t think I know that?” barked Mars.

“I’m just trying to make sense of what on the surface does not make sense. And the last thing we need is for you to lie to us.”

Mars suddenly jerked against the handcuff trapping him to the bed, but it did not give. Jamison and Oliver had jumped back, but Decker hadn’t moved a muscle.

Mars sat back against the pillow, breathing hard. “I’m not lying.”

“Okay,” replied Decker calmly.

“And maybe you’re not here to help me. Maybe you’re here to make sure I stay in prison the rest of my life. Or get the needle. You might be working with the state of Texas for all I know.”

“Why would he be doing that?” asked Jamison.

“How the hell am I supposed to know that?” snapped Mars. “Maybe they brought you in when this Montgomery dude said he killed my parents. Maybe your job is to mess all this up so I don’t get outta prison.”

Everyone was silent for a few moments until Decker said, “But can you explain the time discrepancies?”

“If I could I would have twenty damn years ago, so, no, I can’t.”

“Okay,” said Decker. “So you have no explanation? Nothing else for us to look at on that point?”

Mars shot him an angry glance. “Look, if you don’t believe me, then just leave. ’Cause I got no time for bullshit if you don’t want to get me outta prison.”

Decker rose. “Maybe you misunderstood me, Mr. Mars. I didn’t say I believed you were innocent or that I wanted to get you out of prison. I told you I wanted to find the truth. If it turns out that truth means you are guilty, then they can inject you and you can die, because you’ll have deserved it. But in the meantime, we will continue to investigate this case and let it take us where it does. Is that clear enough for you?”

Jamison and Oliver exchanged a nervous glance.

Mars and Decker stared at each other. The former seemed to be trying to figure out the latter. And the latter seemed to have already turned his mind to other matters.

“I think we understand each other, yeah,” said Mars.

But Decker was already walking toward the door.

After he left Mars turned to Jamison.

“Damn, is the dude always like that?”

“Pretty much,” replied Jamison.

Decker walked down the hall, gathering momentum like a wave about to crash onto the beach as he went. He heard Jamison scurrying behind him. Up ahead, standing in the hallway, were Bogart and Davenport.

Milligan was at rented office space about twenty minutes south setting up shop. They were all staying at a local motel, which represented the best lodgings in the area.

Jamison caught up to him. She said, clearly irritated, “I wish you’d stop doing that.”

Decker looked down at her. “Doing what?”

“Just walking out of a room like that.”

“I was finished. So I left.” He paused. “And you bought me quinoa? Seriously? Is that even a food?”

She smirked. “You’re getting so skinny I’m having trouble seeing you sideways.”

“Yeah, like a Mack truck coming right at you.”

They reached the pair and Bogart said, “What’s your take so far?”

Decker shrugged. “Early to say. There’re problems with his statement. We need to see if there are alternative explanations.”

“Well, after two decades the trail is definitely cold.”

Davenport said, “I’m going to be speaking with him later. Then I can report on his psychological status.”

Bogart focused on Decker and Jamison and said, “Not holding you to anything, but do you think he’s lying?”

Jamison looked troubled by the question. “We only just met him. But if you want an answer, then, no, I don’t think he’s lying.”

“Any particular reason?”

“He told Decker if he didn’t believe him to pack up and leave. Not what you’d expect from a guy who could still be executed. A guilty guy would grasp at anything.”

Bogart looked at Decker. “Anything to add?”

“No.”

He turned and walked off down the hall.

Jamison let out a long breath.

Bogart looked amused.

Davenport looked curious. “Where is he going?”

“To dig. He’s going to dig,” answered Bogart. “And if we’re going to keep up, we’ll need to hustle.”

They had been settled around the rented office space and staring at paper and laptop screens for some time now.

It was just the men. Jamison and Davenport had stayed behind at the hospital to further interview Mars.

Decker was wearing some of his new clothes. For the last week back at Quantico he had gotten up early and gone to the gym and then the track. He had even jogged a bit and ventured onto the elliptical. And he had eaten only the food Jamison had bought for him. Small meals, she had suggested. Four or five per day.