David Baldacci - The Last Mile

He sat on the edge of his bed and stretched out his legs. His hamstrings were tight, his lower back tighter still.

Physically, he was what he was.

But mentally?

He closed his eyes and let his perfect memory wander back to the point nearly twenty months ago when he had lost everything he had.

He knew the color would come, piggybacking on this memory like a parasite attached to a big fish.

Blue.

The color blue poured across the memory of finding his family slaughtered. It was like someone had callously thrown a bucket of paint on top of the most treasured possession he had. Or a giant pen had gone wacky and was releasing its ink everywhere.

Had being the operative word.

Molly and Cassie were gone. Nothing he could do to bring them back. He would remember them in perfect detail until he took his last breath. But that was both a blessing and a curse.

He showered, changed into clean clothes, and opened the door to his motel room, which led directly to the outside. He was on the first floor, which had a covered porch running the length of the building. They were all on the first floor, with him at one end, Mars and Jamison in the middle, and Davenport at the far end.

The rain continued to bucket down as Decker leaned against a support post and gazed out into the darkness.

Decker didn’t like deceit. He didn’t like lies. He didn’t like bad acts with no consequences. People did wrong, that was a given. And that was their choice. And they needed to suffer the repercussions of those bad choices.

He checked his watch. It was a little after six. The sun was still making its way from the other side of the world. And even when it did rise it would be hidden behind the thick curtain of storm clouds. There was a coffee shop attached to the motel. He could reach it under cover of the roof overhang.

It took him two minutes. Three people were already there having breakfast. A tired-looking waitress was pouring out coffee. She swept her arm around the small dining room when she saw Decker come in.

He apparently had his pick of unoccupied tables. He chose one as far away from the other people as possible. He sat, picked up a menu, and ran his gaze down it. Heart attack city, all of it. Cholesterol mania with every bite.

When she came around he ordered coffee, a glass of orange juice, and toast.

“Do you have egg whites?” he asked.

When she stared back at him blankly he said, “Maybe a fruit cup?”

She eyed his ample form and a sympathetic smile appeared on her face. “Sure, hon, coming up. All healthy stuff, I’ll see to it.”

She walked off.

A minute later she brought the coffee. He took a sip. Nice and hot, and it warmed his bones as the rain lashed the windows outside.

He settled back in his chair, half closed his eyes, and focused.

Point One: Roy and Lucinda Mars had a secret life dating from before their son was born. They had changed their names and moved here to get away from whatever that life had been. The scar on Roy Mars’s face might be from plastic surgery.

Point Two: They were seen on a national sports program some time before they were killed.

Point Three: Roy Mars had emptied a safe deposit box right before his death. The contents of that box and its current whereabouts were unknown.

Point Four: Lucinda Mars had terminal cancer.

Point Five: They were murdered and their son framed for the crimes.

Point Six: Mars had been scheduled to be executed but was saved by the confession of Charles Montgomery.

Point Seven: Mars was released from prison.

Point Eight: Charles Montgomery was executed.

Point Nine: Charles Montgomery had almost certainly lied.

Point Ten: Regina Montgomery had received the monetary fruits of her husband’s confession.

Point Eleven: Regina Montgomery had been murdered, possibly by the man in the Toyota Avalon.

Point Twelve: Someone wanted what was in that safe deposit box.

Point Thirteen: And that someone might be different from whoever had framed Mars.

Now the questions poured forth, principally among them: Who had paid off Montgomery? If Avalon man, why? To set Mars free so he could be followed and they could use him to locate the safe deposit box contents? If so, it was a very clumsy way of doing it. How could they know that Mars even knew about the contents, much less its whereabouts, now? And why now, twenty years later? Why not back then? For that matter, why not torture the Marses before you killed them and make them tell you where the contents were?

Maybe they were tortured. But took the secret to their graves.

Decker could think of no plausible theory that would reconcile all of those questions.

And this was clearly frustrating the hell out of him.

His memory was perfect, but that did not mean that the answers were always there. If someone told him a lie, he would remember it clearly, not knowing that it was false until he could compare it with other facts that would, hopefully, demonstrate the inconsistency of the statement.

But it wasn’t inconsistency that was his chief enemy here. It was simply not knowing enough.

“You look like your brain is gonna catch fire.”

He looked up to see Mars standing there.

Decker motioned for him to sit. Mars did.

“Did you give the things I asked about some thought?” Decker asked.

Mars nodded. “Thought about ’em all night. And I got nothing to give you, Decker. I feel... I feel like an idiot. I didn’t even know my own parents. My whole life was wrapped around playing football.” He clearly wanted to say something else, but apparently couldn’t find the words with which to do so. He ended up by just shaking his head.

“Don’t give up on yourself,” advised Decker. “Something still might occur to you.” He glanced at the waitress, who was heading their way with his food.

“You want some coffee or food?” she asked Mars.

“Just coffee.”

The waitress put the toast and a bowl of fruit down in front of Decker. “There you go, hon. Bet you’ll be wearing skinny jeans in no time.”

Mars gave Decker a curious look but made no comment. He ordered his coffee.

After the waitress walked off, Decker took a forkful of the fruit and a bite of the toast.

“So did you think of anything?” Mars asked him.

“I thought of lots of things. Mostly questions to which I have no answers.”

“You know, I did remember one thing.”

“What’s that?” asked Decker quickly.

The waitress appeared again to deposit Mars’s coffee. She left and he said, “The only medical practice in town back then was over on Scotch Boulevard. If my mom talked to a doctor, it would have been there. That’s where they went to the dentist too.”

Decker nodded. “Good. We’ll check that out today.”

“But I still don’t see how that’s going to help us.”

“Investigations are not exact sciences. You plug along until something starts to make sense.”

“I talked to Mary. She’s still pissed about what happened. This is making her even more determined to sue the crap out of Texas.”

“She’s a good friend to you.”

“I thought I was done for when my last lawyer resigned. Then Mary came along and took up the case. We had lots of long talks. She wasn’t just my lawyer. She was, like you said, a friend. And we didn’t just talk about legal stuff. I learned about her family and she asked questions about mine, though it wasn’t like I could tell her much. But she was still interested. Was willing to listen for as long as I wanted her to. She knew how I felt about my mom and dad. She knew I could never have killed them.”

“I’m sure, Melvin.”

Mars glanced around. “You know, I thought Jamison would be here with you.”