David Baldacci - The Last Mile

“I understand love and what it can do to people, Melvin, both good and bad. No matter how much my brain has changed I’ll always understand that.”

Decker sat on the edge of his bed. It was still dark outside and Mars had gone back to his room. Decker had told him to say nothing of what had happened to anyone for now.

Decker wasn’t sure why he had wanted this, only that something didn’t feel right.

Should they go on to Tuscaloosa? When he knew the answer to the mystery was right here?

The Three Musketeers.

McClellan, Eastland, Huey.

Decker felt like he knew the truth. He just had no way to prove it. What he needed was evidence. Apparently, Roy Mars had that in abundance. The only problem was, he had no way to get to Roy Mars. And even if he did, how would he convince him to give up what he had? Mars was a killer too. They knew he had murdered Regina Montgomery. He had practically confessed to Melvin that he was involved in the bombings. If they caught up to him he would be going to prison for the rest of his life. Maybe he would be facing the death penalty.

The man had no incentive to cooperate. Even if they could offer him a deal, there was no way it would not involve lengthy prison time. And at Roy’s age, that equated to a life sentence. Not something he could see the savvy Roy readily accepting.

So the Three Musketeers suddenly became the Three Untouchables.

But Decker could not leave it at that. People had to be held accountable for what they did. He didn’t care how many years had passed. People were still dead because of what they had done. And the killers had all gone on to fine careers and in Eastland’s case great wealth.

Decker pondered some more.

Contents of a safe deposit box. There was no way Roy would carry it around with him. Too easy to lose if he got caught.

He wouldn’t leave it in any place he was staying for the same reason.

On the other hand, it would have to be easily accessible.

That narrowed things down a bit, but hardly enough.

It still involved lots of possible hiding places.

It had not been in the home. Too dangerous. Lots of eyeballs all over it. And now the fire.

So where?

He flipped his frames of memory back to his lone meeting with Roy Mars. He went over every observation, every word spoken. Next, he considered what Roy had told Melvin, searching for anything helpful.

It wasn’t like he thought Roy had purposefully put some sort of code or reference to the hiding place in his words. It would be subtler than that.

It might even be unintentional.

Was there something?

If there was, it was not coming to him.

And they still had heard nothing from Davenport’s kidnappers. Why snatch someone for no reason?

Well, one didn’t. There had to be a reason. But if not for ransom or leverage, what then?

Again, Decker couldn’t think of an answer.

So back to the original question: Should they head to Tuscaloosa? They would see where the bombed NAACP office had been. They knew Montgomery had been there. Bailed out by a confederate or lackey of one of the Three Musketeers?

They couldn’t show that, because the records were long since gone.

They had nothing to even take into court. They couldn’t even get a search warrant. And what would they be searching for anyway?

Three guilty men were potentially going to walk.

Decker slumped back on the bed, as depressed as he’d been in a while.

His phone rang. He checked the time.

Five minutes past six.

It was Bogart. His voice was strained.

“I’m being recalled to D.C. along with my whole team.”

“Why?”

“The FBI is trying to build a new headquarters. The Hoover Building is falling apart.”

“And what does that have to do with you?”

“Apparently there have been inquiries from Capitol Hill about the Bureau wanting appropriations for the new facility at the same time that we are, quote, ‘wasting taxpayer funds on needless investigations.’ So I’m being recalled to go and testify on the Hill and this investigation is being suspended.”

“Let me guess, the Ways and Means Committee?”

“Thurman Huey is apparently more subtle than that. It was one of the subcommittees, of which there are apparently an endless number. He won’t appear in this at all. His hands will be clean. But I have to go.”

“Understood.”

“Anything I need to know before I do go?”

Decker debated whether to tell him about Mars’s run-in with Roy. But what could Bogart do about that? He had to go to D.C. to save his career. Let him focus on that.

“Nothing. Good luck.”

“I think you’ll need more luck than me, Decker. And I’m sorry about this. Seems like I keep popping in and out of this.”

“Nature of the beast.”

Decker clicked off and lay back down again.

The Three Musketeers’ counterattack had begun.

Huey had fired his salvo.

He just wondered what McClellan and Eastland were planning.

His plan to spook them might just have backfired.

Big-time.

Gone?”

Jamison stared across at Decker at their table in the motel’s dining room.

Decker nodded. Mars was beside him.

“It’s Huey’s doing.” Decker glanced at Mars. “Tell her about last night.”

Mars took a few minutes to fill her in.

When he’d finished she said, “Okay, so Roy’s not going to help us. The FBI’s been knocked off the case. We have no proof of anything. Which means we’re right now in the lion’s den with no cover.”

“You want to get out of town?” asked Decker.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do? And don’t say find the truth, because that one I get. I’m talking about what do we do today, right this very minute, in fact. And staying alive might be a good goal.”

Mars said, “She’s making sense.”

Decker said, “If we can only find what Roy has.” His face suddenly brightened. “Melvin, where is your mother buried?”

“She’s not. She was cremated, her ashes were scattered.”

“You know this for a fact?”

“I was there, Decker. I scattered them. This happened before I was arrested. I did the same with my da— well, with the guy I thought was my dad. But of course we know it wasn’t him. It was ashes of the guy he killed.”

Mars fell silent and looked down at his plate. He hadn’t touched any of his food.

Decker rubbed his chin while Jamison watched him.

“Well, you guys look cheery.”

They watched as Mary Oliver walked toward them pulling a rolling suitcase. She sat down in the fourth chair and wearily rubbed her face.

“Left before the crack of dawn. Three connections later, here I am... Obviously, haven’t even checked into my room yet.” She looked around. “Where’s Agent Bogart?”

“He and his team have been recalled to Washington,” replied Jamison.

“Not again. Are you joking?”

Jamison shook her head. “I wish I were.”

“Any news on Davenport?” asked Oliver.

Decker answered. “No ransom demand, no nothing.”

Oliver grabbed a piece of toast from the stack on a plate in the middle of the table and started buttering it. “Sorry, they didn’t even have peanuts on any of the flights. And all the planes were like the size of my car, by the way.” She bit into the toast and sighed.

Mars said nervously, “How’s it going on the legal end?”

She looked at him sympathetically. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Melvin. From what I can tell the prosecutors in Texas have decided that you are a pit of vipers that they don’t want to go near. At least right now. If they were going to try anything I would have had to have been notified.”