David Baldacci - The Last Mile

“Don’t get me wrong, I sincerely was interested in the offer from Ross. It sounded fascinating and I had pretty much done everything I could in my field. And I like to seize opportunities. I’m a classic Type A overachiever. Only child, two academic, doting parents. Excelled at every level. I was also a distance runner in college at Stanford before I went on to Columbia.”

“Impressive. But it didn’t answer my question.”

“I wasn’t meaning to brag about myself. The fact was, it was you that led me to join the team when Ross called.”

“You mentioned something like that when we first met.”

“I know I did.”

“And the parallels in my case and Melvin’s. You thought it might make a fascinating case study.”

“Exactly.”

“And I told you it would have nothing to do with my cognitive anomalies . That the focus would be on Melvin’s guilt or innocence.”

Davenport sipped her beer. “And I told you that would be a wasted opportunity.”

“I know, but how exactly?”

“I wanted to see if you would allow me to include you in a professional study. The fact that you have turned your unique mental abilities to fighting crime only heightened the uniqueness. I thought it would make a wonderfully compelling paper or even a book. It might even be a bestseller,” she added enticingly.

Decker finished his beer. “I have no interest in that whatsoever.”

She looked at him resignedly. “Which I knew would be the case about five minutes after I met you.”

“So where does that leave you?”

“I already told you that I’m here until the end. I’ll give you my all to solve this case.”

“Why?”

She started to say something but then hesitated, tearing off a bit of the bottle’s label. “I could give you a standard professional answer that would be mostly gobbledygook. Or I could go with the truth.”

“I’ll take the latter.”

She sat forward and stared directly at him for the first time. “It was the execution. The way that man died. Maybe he deserved it. I’m not going to get into a debate on the pros and cons of capital punishment. But Melvin Mars is innocent and was very nearly executed. How many other innocent men have been put to death?”

“As I said before, one is too many,” replied Decker. “So why did you show up here tonight?”

“Like I said, we got off on the wrong foot. Don’t get me wrong, it was all my fault. I just wanted to square things before we moved forward to tackle this case to the end.”

“Okay, consider us square.”

She smiled weakly. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. But tomorrow is a new day.”

Davenport nodded as she got his meaning. “I guess we all have to prove ourselves. Every day.”

“That’s the way I’ve always seen it.” He held up his bottle. “Thanks for the light beer.”

She rose. “Thanks for listening.” She turned to leave but then looked back at him. “Ross told me about your family. I’m so very sorry, Amos. So very sorry.”

He stared back at her but said nothing.

“How hard is it not to ever forget?” she said, her expression matching the sad tone of her words.

“Harder than you might think.”

She left.

Decker put the bottle down and went over to the window where outside the rain was now bucketing down.

He let the frames of his perfect memory whir back to their encounter with Regina Montgomery.

Cartier watch.

Three boxes from Neiman Marcus.

Two boxes from Chanel.

Two from Saks.

One from Bergdorf Goodman.

One from Jimmy Choo.

Then there was the Hermès purse.

He pulled out his computer, went online to each of those retailers, found the items he had seen, and priced them out.

He totaled them in his head.

Fifty-four thousand dollars and change.

The Hermès bag had cost over nineteen thousand alone. The watch was another fourteen thousand. The Jimmy Choos another grand.

Decker shook his head.

To carry stuff, tell time, and encase your feet, only thirty-four thousand bucks.

But that told him that whoever was behind this had deep pockets. Regina Montgomery had evidently expected a lot more money to be coming through.

The big payoff for a life of misery with Charles Montgomery.

Only she never really got to enjoy it, did she? Once Charles was dead, Regina was expendable. It was cruel. It was heartless.

Decker would have expected nothing less from people who had let an innocent man rot in prison for twenty years.

He got undressed and climbed into bed.

They had worked this case for a while now and he was desperately fearful that the minimal progress they had made would be all there ever was.

The gym was small, with only one treadmill, a rack of dusty dumbbells, an ancient stationary bike, and a solitary medicine ball.

Decker walked on the treadmill, slightly increasing the pace every few minutes. As he walked he watched the TV bolted to the wall.

The news was on, and the top story was the execution of Charles Montgomery, followed by the death of his wife when her home had exploded.

“What are the odds?” asked one of the newscasters. “Both dying on the same day like that.”

They didn’t die on the same day, Decker thought. Regina had actually died after midnight, meaning she had perished on the following day.

But still, he couldn’t dispute the man’s overarching point. What were the odds?

Well, Decker knew they were actually really good if someone had murdered Regina as soon as her husband was safely dead.

The door to the gym opened and in walked Melvin Mars dressed in workout clothes. He nodded at Decker and started doing some stretching.

Then he began his workout, and Decker forgot all about what he was doing and simply watched. He couldn’t believe the intensity, even the insanity of the routine. Once, he nearly fell off the treadmill because he was so enthralled by what the nearly forty-two-year-old Mars was capable of doing.

Finally, Decker just turned off the treadmill and watched.

When Mars was finally done, he picked up a fresh towel off a table and wiped down.

“How often do you do that?” asked Decker.

“Every day. For the last twenty years.”

“Impressive. I felt like I was having a heart attack just watching you.”

Mars shrugged. “Kept me going. Kept me sane. You know?”

Decker nodded. “I can understand that.”

Mars sat on a stool and looked up at Decker, his expression wary. “What do you think is going on, really?”

“Someone hated you. And then someone felt sorry for you.”

Mars looked surprised. “What?”

“They framed you, put you in prison, and nearly let you be executed. Then they paid off the Montgomerys and a false confession got you out of prison.”

“You think it’s the same folks?”

“It’s been twenty years, but it’s certainly possible.”

“Why the change of heart? They kill my parents, see me go to prison, and then get me out? Doesn’t make a lick of sense.”

“I agree. They pinned the crime on you because you were the most likely suspect.”

“So why kill my parents?”

“Because of something they knew, saw, heard, did.”

“They were just ordinary folks in a little town in West Texas, Decker.”

“They were that when you knew them. But they might have had a whole other life before you came along, Melvin. And maybe they came to West Texas to get away from it.”

Mars nodded. “I guess that makes more sense than anything else. You think they were involved in something bad?”

“The probabilities lie there. People involved in something good do not often get murdered.”