David Baldacci - The Last Mile

Mars shook the man’s hand and forced a smile at Decker’s slight elbow nudge. “Yeah, Jerry, I remember you. How you doing?”

“All right. Married, four kids. Working my way up the corporate ladder. In five or six years I’ll probably be the branch manager.”

“Good for you, man.”

The two men stared awkwardly at each other.

“I heard you, um, got out of prison,” said Bivens nervously.

“Yeah, another dude confessed.”

“What an injustice,” said Bivens. He looked over Mars’s impressive physique. “You look like you could still suit up.”

“Yeah, if only,” said Mars.

Decker cleared his throat and Bivens focused on him. Decker flashed his FBI credentials, which did not include a badge, but nevertheless seemed to impress Bivens, who immediately stood straighter and buttoned his jacket.

“Yes, Agent, um, Decker, what can I do for you?”

“We need some information.”

Bivens glanced around to find both tellers and three customers in line staring at them.

“You want to step into my office?” said Bivens hastily.

Bivens’s “office” was a cubicle partially enclosed by glass. He indicated chairs for them to use and then seated himself behind his desk.

“What sort of information?” he asked.

“I understand that Roy and Lucinda Mars had an account here.”

Bivens said nothing but clasped his hands together and placed them on his desktop.

“Is that a yes?” asked Decker.

“I’d have to look that up.”

Decker glanced at the computer sitting on the desk. “Okay.”

“I meant, I would with the proper authorization. We respect a customer’s privacy.”

“I appreciate that, but the Marses are both dead.”

Bivens changed color, glanced quickly at Mars, and then lifted his hands off the desk and placed them on the arms of his chair. “Well, yes, of course I know that. But then their legal representative—”

“They don’t have one,” interjected Decker.

“Or their next of kin.”

Decker tapped Mars on the shoulder. “Sitting right here.”

Bivens again stared at Mars. “Right.”

Mars said, “You have my permission to look it up and tell him, Jerry.”

Bivens began tapping keys on his computer. He read through a couple screens. “They had an account, but it was closed twenty-some years ago.”

“Can you give us the exact date?” asked Decker.

Bivens told him.

Mars said, “That was two days before they died.”

Decker nodded. “Can you tell us how much was in the account before it was closed?”

Bivens tapped some more keys and pulled up the transaction history. “About fifty-five hundred dollars.”

Decker and Mars both looked disappointed.

Bivens said, “I’m sorry if you were looking for any funds, Melvin.” He paused. “I know you were in prison a long time.”

Decker said, “No other accounts?”

Bivens glanced at the screen. “No, just the checking account.”

Mars looked crushed, but Decker appeared to just be getting started. “How about a safe deposit box?” he said.

Mars jerked and glanced at him.

Bivens hit some more keys. “Right, they had a box. How did you know?”

Decker said, “Just a lucky guess on my part. What can you tell us about it?”

“Well, it was closed out at the same time as the account. We have all records on computer now. Your father closed it and signed all the necessary documents.”

“And there’s no way to tell what was in the box?”

Bivens shook his head. “No inventories are kept of safe deposit boxes unless a client specifically requests that it be done. Otherwise it’s strictly private.”

“But he closed it and took everything?” said Decker.

“Yes.”

“How large was the box?”

Bivens hit some more keys. “Our largest. A double. It could hold a lot.”

“Is there anyone here who worked at the bank back then that we could talk to?” asked Decker.

“Oh, no. I’ve been here the longest. Fourteen years. The branch manager was transferred in from El Paso three years ago. The others have all been here less than five years.” Bivens glanced over Decker’s shoulder and then said to him, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Decker looked behind him to see two people lined up waiting to talk to Bivens.

“No, but we appreciate your help.”

They walked outside, smack into the dreary weather.

Mars barked, “I can’t believe this shit. My mom was dying from cancer and no one told me. And now I find out my dad kept a safe deposit box loaded with who knows what. It’s like I’m living somebody’s else’s life.”

“And he closed it two days before he died,” noted Decker.

“You think my dad knew something was coming?”

“Of course he did. And the question is, what did he do with the items from the box?”

They met up with Jamison and Davenport in a private area adjacent to the motel lobby later that day. Decker filled them in on the meeting with Jerry Bivens at the bank.

Jamison said, “So even if the Marses weren’t in Witness Protection, it seems like they had some secrets.”

Davenport added, “The history that no one can uncover, not even the FBI.” She glanced at Mars. “Roy and Lucinda Mars are probably not even their real names.”

Decker said, “AC and RB. We found those initials written on the wall of their closet. Those might be their real initials.”

“Shit,” said Mars, shaking his head and looking away from them. He seemed like a man stumbling through a dream he’d had no hand in creating.

Decker said, “So they weren’t in Witness Protection, but they may have been on the run from someone.”

“Or some group,” amended Jamison. “Like the mob.”

“The mob!” barked Mars. “Okay, just stop right there. My parents were not in the damn mob, okay?”

Decker said sharply, “The fact is, Melvin, right now none of us knows what they were involved in, including you. But whatever it was, it was bad enough that they created new identities and moved to a little town in Texas to escape it.”

“And the safe deposit box contents might have something incriminating to whoever these people are,” said Jamison.

“But there’s no way for us to find out what was in the box,” added Davenport. “I mean, it was twenty years ago. And whoever killed your parents, Melvin, may have taken it.”

“Or not,” said Decker.

They all turned to him.

“Care to elaborate on that point?” asked Davenport.

“The one question that can’t be answered by any of this is, why would someone pay off the Montgomerys to get Melvin out of prison?” He glanced at them one by one.

“I give up,” said Mars finally. “Why?”

“They might if they didn’t find what was in the safe deposit box. And it’s still out there somewhere. And they may think you know where it is.”

“That’s quite a theory,” said Davenport.

“But if so, why wait all this time?” asked Jamison.

“It may be that once Melvin was scheduled to be executed they panicked, figuring this might be their last chance to retrieve it.”

Mars looked puzzled. “But Decker, no one’s tried to contact me. Or kidnap me and make me tell them what I know, which is zip.”

“They may plan to simply let us do what we’re doing, searching for it.”

“And rush in when we find it and, what, kill us all?” said Davenport skeptically.

“Perhaps,” said Decker. “Or perhaps not.”

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” said Davenport, clearly frustrated.

“Investigations are not always simple,” retorted Jamison. “The case we worked in Burlington took a ninety-degree turn, but it took a ton of legwork and asking questions to get us there. And what seemed unimportant at first turned out to be critical.”