David Baldacci: The Last Mile

“And we can lobby the others to do that, Amos,” said Jamison quickly. “Like Agent Bogart said.”

Decker stared down at the laptop. Both Bogart and Jamison watched him.

They knew that Decker was stubborn and inflexible when he had made up his mind. They also knew he couldn’t help it. It was just who he was.

Bogart said, “Since you arrived early, I’ve changed the meeting time to two this afternoon instead of tomorrow.” He looked over Decker’s rumpled clothes and unkempt hair. “We’ll give you time to clean up and then we’ll pick you up about a quarter till and drive you over. It’s not that far.”

Decker looked down at his wrinkled clothes. He was about to say something, but then he nodded dumbly and stared back down at his laptop.

Bogart rose, but Jamison remained seated. When he looked at her inquiringly she said, “I’ll meet you back here.”

He glanced at Decker and nodded curtly. “Amos, it’s good to have you on board.”

Decker continued to stare at his laptop.

Bogart turned and left.

Jamison glanced at Decker. “Lots of changes,” she said. “In a short period of time.”

He shrugged.

“What is really fascinating you about the Mars case?” she asked. “Because you played football against him?”

“I don’t like people just showing up out of the blue and confessing to a crime.”

“Like what happened in your family’s case?”

Decker closed the laptop and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about the other ‘team’ members.”

“I’ve only met one of them. Lisa Davenport. She’s a clinical psychologist from Chicago. She’s in her late thirties and very nice. Very professional.”

“How is all this going to work?” asked Decker.

“Like Bogart said, we vote on the cases to take.”

“But someone has to put the cases we’re going to vote on together. So there’s a preselection by someone.”

“Well, that’s true.” She pointed to his binder. “In there. Fascinating stuff. But you can add this Mars case. Bogart said so.”

“He didn’t actually say that. He said the case was out of his jurisdiction. He said we could lobby the others to take it. But if I get voted out, we don’t take it.” He looked at her. “Do I have your vote?”

“Of course you do, Amos.”

He looked away. “I appreciate that.”

Jamison looked surprised. Decker didn’t usually acknowledge things like that.

“Do you want to get cleaned up?” She added diplomatically, “I know it was a long drive. And you apparently drove straight through.”

“I did. And, yeah, I should clean up some. But I don’t have many clothes.”

“We can go shopping if you want, before the meeting.”

“Maybe after.”

“Anytime, Amos. I’m ready to help.”

“You don’t have to be this nice to me.”

Jamison knew that, unlike other people, Decker was being quite literal.

“I figure we both had big changes in our lives, and we need to stick together. There might be a case down the road I want to take. And then I’d need your support, right?”

Decker looked at her thoughtfully and nodded. “You’re more complicated than you make yourself out to be.”

“One can only hope,” she said, smiling weakly.

How do I get twenty years of my life back? You wanna tell me that? How!”

Melvin Mars sat across from his attorney in the visitors’ room at the prison.

Mary Oliver was in her midthirties, with auburn hair cut short and square glasses over her sparkling green eyes. Her angular, pretty face was sprinkled with freckles.

“You don’t, Melvin,” she said. “Nothing can do that. But they haven’t confirmed Montgomery’s story yet, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“I don’t know this dude. I never met this dude. I never knew he even existed until they came and told me. So they can’t say I paid him to kill my parents. And if they can’t show that, I’m out of here, right?”

Oliver rustled some papers in front of her. “Look, it’s not that simple. We have to let the process work, okay?”

Mars rose and smacked the wall behind him, drawing a stare from the burly guard stationed in the center of the room. He was far enough away that he could not hear their privileged conversation — at least spoken at normal levels — but close enough to step in if need be.

“Process? I let the process work before, and you see what it got me? They took my damn life, Mary.”

“It’s natural to feel betrayed and taken advantage of, Melvin. Everything you’re feeling, it’s natural.”

Mars looked like he wanted to slug something, anything, as hard as he could. But then he saw the guard’s hand move to the head of his baton. He also saw the guard’s mouth twitch in anticipation of kicking some prisoner ass.

Just give me a reason, asshole, please .

Mars calmed and sat down. “So how much longer does this process have to work?” he said in a normal voice.

“There isn’t a set timetable for this because of its unusual nature,” explained Oliver, looking relieved that he was being more reasonable. “But I will keep on top of it every second, Melvin. I promise. I will push them. And if I even see them starting to drag their feet, I will call them on it. I swear. I’ll file motions.”

He nodded. “I know you will.”

She said, “This must be so hard for you. When I first heard of it, I was flummoxed. I still don’t know the connection between your parents and this Charles Montgomery.”

“Well, if there is a connection, they didn’t tell me. Maybe it was a stranger thing. He breaks into the house and kills them.”

“But there was no evidence of a break-in. And nothing was stolen. That was why the police started to look at you.”

“But you believe me, right?” he said quickly.

“Yes, of course I do.”

Melvin stared at her. Running through his mind was the thought, Sure you do .

“Where we lived, nobody locked their doors. And it wasn’t like my parents had much someone would want to steal. You know how we lived. My father worked in a pawnshop. My mom made money on the side sewing clothes and teaching Spanish and cleaning up other people’s messes.” He shook his head. “I was going to change all that when I got to the NFL. Was going to buy them a house, put money aside. They could quit their jobs. I had plans.”

He slapped the palm of his hand against the table. “I had plans.”

“I know you did, Melvin,” she said soothingly.

“I always thought this was a big mistake somebody was going to finally figure out. That I’d be out of prison in a few months and be playing ball. Then a year went by and then another and another. And then five. And then a decade. And then... shit!”

He grew silent, started shaking his head from side to side, his face pointed downward. A tear smacked against the laminate. Mars swiped it away with his hand.

“If I get out of here, what then? I got no family. I got no job. I got no nothin’.”

“The state of Texas can compensate you.”

“How much?”

“It’s capped at twenty-five thousand dollars.”

Mars looked up at her, incredulous. “Twenty-five grand! For twenty years of my life?”

“I know it’s grossly unfair, but that’s what the current law is.”

“Do you know how much I could have made in the NFL?”

“A lot more. I know.”

“So I walk out of here with maybe twenty-five grand, or maybe less since that’s a ‘cap,’ and then what?”

“We’ll help you with that. We’ll help find you housing. And a job.”

“Doing what? Pushing brooms? Maybe I can get my father’s old job in that pawnshop. That part of Texas, man, pawnshops do big business, because nobody has shit.”