David Baldacci - The Last Mile

The Witness Protection angle had occurred to him several days ago actually, but after thinking about it in the shower after his workout he had decided to ask Bogart to make an official inquiry with the U.S. Marshals.

If Roy and Lucinda Mars had been in Witness Protection it would explain a lot of things: their lack of personal history, their showing up in a small town in West Texas, the scar on Roy Mars’s face, ultimately their murders.

But what it couldn’t explain away was what had so recently happened. Namely, someone paying off the Montgomerys to get Melvin Mars out of prison.

Who would do that? The same people who had killed his parents and framed him, sending him to prison and nearly to his execution over the course of the last twenty years?

No, it could not be them.

So who?

Unless he answered that question, Decker feared he would never bring this case to a satisfactory end.

He went downstairs to the hotel lobby to find Jamison waiting for him.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

He shook his head. They went into the restaurant off the lobby.

When Decker started to order the All-American Breakfast, complete with fried eggs, pancakes, sausage and bacon, grits, and fried toast, he got a piercing gaze from Jamison.

Instead, he ordered orange juice, plain toast, and an egg white omelet.

As they ate he told her about his idea.

“Witness Protection?” she said. “That’s interesting. I guess it could explain some things.”

“But not the main thing. Why Melvin is free.”

“No, I guess not that.”

He didn’t mention his meeting with Mars in the hotel gym, and the man’s sudden reluctance to see the case through. It didn’t matter to Decker what Mars thought. If he wanted to quit the case that was fine. Decker would continue on alone if need be.

He did tell Jamison about his talk with Davenport.

“Well, at least she brought light beer,” said Jamison. “So, a book deal, huh? I wondered about that.”

Decker looked at her, slightly surprised. “Why?”

She looked uncomfortable.

“Why?” he asked again.

“Because back in Burlington I sort of had the same thought when we were investigating the murder of your family.”

“That what, you’d write a book about it?”

“About it. About you. You are fascinating, Amos, you can’t deny that.”

“If I am fascinating, it’s only because of a traumatic brain injury suffered on the football field. It’s not like anyone should be encouraged to duplicate what happened to me.”

“But your mind, your memory capability?”

He put down his fork. “So, do you still want to write a book on me?”

She looked at him, annoyance followed by guilt flitting across her features.

“Not anymore, no.”

“Good, because if you did it would have to be done without any help from me, Jamison.”

“I get that. I mean, I know that about you now.” She looked around the room. “So what do we do? Stay in Alabama and see what the police come up with?”

Decker shook his head. “The events in Alabama are just part of the effects. Charles Montgomery being executed. Regina Montgomery being killed. The cause of it all is back in Texas. That’s where we need to go.”

“But didn’t this really start before Texas? I mean, if the Marses were in Witness Protection?”

“Absolutely, Jamison. But to get to there we have to go through Texas first. Because, for Melvin, that’s where all this started.”

The next moment Decker froze.

“What is it, Amos?”

Decker mumbled, “Heisman?”

“Heisman. What, the trophy?”

Decker rose. “No, all the hoopla associated with it.”

“How is that connected?” she said.

“I think it might be the catalyst for all the rest.”

I don’t know,” said Mars.

Decker, Davenport, and Jamison faced him across the width of a table in Mars’s hotel room. Like Decker, he had showered after his workout and changed into fresh clothes.

“You have to know something ,” said Decker doggedly. “You were a Heisman Trophy finalist. You went to New York for the awards ceremony. Did they go with you?”

“No,” said Mars immediately. “I asked but they both said no. Dad had to work, and Mom didn’t like to travel without him.”

“You father couldn’t get time off from his pawnshop job to go see whether his son won the Heisman ?” Davenport said skeptically.

Mars looked at her. “I know it sounds weird now. But it didn’t back then. I was going to the ceremony. Sure, I wanted them to come, but man, it was just cameras and microphones in my face all the time. I wouldn’t have had much time to spend with them anyway.”

Decker sat back. “Did anyone try to interview them about you in the lead-up? I know that it’s typical to do stories about the backgrounds and families of the finalists.”

Mars nodded. “Yeah, I mean we got requests. They came through UT. ESPN and some others wanted to do a story on my parents. The newspaper in Austin, even the New York Times came calling.”

“And?” asked Decker.

“My parents turned all that down. They didn’t want to talk to nobody.”

“Didn’t you find that strange?”

“Well, looking back, yeah. But you got to understand, man, everything was going a million miles an hour for me right then. I barely had time to breathe. It was like every week somebody was honoring me with something. Hell, even my old elementary school had a Melvin Mars Day that I went to speak at. So I didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on my parents. I knew they were proud of me. That was all cool.”

Jamison said, “I’m sure they were, but their reluctance to be in the public eye may mean something.” She glanced at Decker. He nodded.

She said in a low voice, “Decker thinks your parents might have been in Witness Protection.”

Mars’s eyes widened and he gaped at Decker.

Davenport said, “That would make sense, actually. And explain a lot.” She looked at Decker. “Can we verify it?”

“Working on it,” said Decker as he continued to study Mars.

Mars said, “Why would my parents be in Witness Protection? Isn’t that for, like, criminals who ratted people out?”

“Not always, no. Innocent people have gone into Witness Protection because they helped bring down bad elements and because of that their lives were in jeopardy.”

Mars mulled over this. “I guess that might make sense. But they never said anything to me about it.”

“I would imagine not,” said Davenport. “Telling you might lead to bad things. You might slip up and mention something. I’m sure the protocols for the U.S. Marshals are to have as few people as possible know.”

Mars nodded but still looked stunned by this possibility.

Decker stirred. “Did your parents go to the elementary school event?”

Mars composed himself and said, “Yeah. It was the only thing I remember them going to, actually. It was just a little ceremony in the auditorium. I spoke to the kids and teachers. Then some little kids brought up this plaque and presented it to me. I got my pictures taken with the principal and some of the teachers I had when I was there.”

“And your parents?”

“Well, they were in the audience.”

“They didn’t come up onstage?”

“No way. They would never have done that. They hated stuff like that. Wanted to keep in the background.”

“And did you leave together?”

Mars knitted his brows, obviously thinking back. “Yeah, we did, actually.” He flinched a bit and then eyed Decker. “When we were coming out of the school there was a local TV film crew there. We didn’t know they would be there. Sort of a surprise. But they talked to me. I did a little interview right there. Talked about my time at the school, the award I’d been given. All feel-good stuff.”