David Baldacci - The Last Mile

Jamison said firmly, “Then let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.”

They passed through a security checkpoint and then Bogart used his ID badge to open a door.

“Here we are,” he said gesturing them inside.

Before Decker passed through the doorway he felt the butterflies in his belly that he often had before stepping onto the gridiron. It was an unwieldy combination of nerves, adrenaline, and anticipation.

He had thought those days were long since over.

Obviously not.

Here we go.

He stepped into the room.

Decker’s gaze swept the space and took everything in like radar bouncing off hard objects.

Two people were there.

Lisa Davenport was to his right. She was in her late thirties, with light blonde hair cut short, a lean, attractive face, full lips, and sparkling blue eyes. Her body was long and athletic, the hips narrow, the shoulders symmetrically broad.

She smiled at Decker as his gaze passed over her.

Todd Milligan sat across the table from her. He was about six feet tall and a buck-eighty. Like Bogart he was very fit and looked like he could run forever without getting winded. His dark hair was cut military short, his brow naturally furrowed, his light brown eyes intense, his spine assuredly as straight as his striped tie. There was nothing inviting or welcoming about the man. He just looked permanently serious.

In front of each was a thick binder. Decker noted the myriad Post-it notes sticking out from the binder’s sides. Both Davenport and Milligan had evidently come prepared.

Bogart made the introductions and they all sat.

On the wall was a large-screen TV that neatly filled the space. Bogart fired up a laptop that sat in front of him and manipulated some keys. The TV screen came to life and they all focused on it.

Bogart said, “We currently have twenty cases lined up to look at. Of those we will be able to, realistically, focus on only one at a time. I’m going for quality, not quantity. The twenty cases you’ve been given have been whittled down from a far larger number using various internal filters.”

Milligan said in a firm, clear voice, “It seems to me that the Morillo case has a lot of potential. I have some angles for approaching it that I think are rock-solid.”

“Good to hear,” said Bogart. “But I wanted to go through a brief overview of each of the cases so we’re all starting from the same page.”

Milligan’s features tightened just a bit. Decker could tell he was not pleased at what he no doubt saw as a rebuke, though Bogart was actually being perfectly reasonable.

Bogart methodically ran through each case, the highlights of which were shown on the screen.

Decker noted that each of the others followed along in their binders. He saw Milligan glance over at him in mild surprise because Decker had not even cracked open his book. Perhaps Bogart had not told them about Decker’s hyperthymesia. He was following along in his mind, turning the mental page in his head in synch with what Bogart was doing on the screen.

When Bogart was done he looked around the room. “Comments?”

Milligan said, “I still believe the Morillo case is the one to go after, Ross. It offers the best chance of a successful intervention. The case against him isn’t that strong and one critical piece of evidence was for all intents and purposes ignored. It seems to me that there are better suspects out there. And it would be good for your program to get off to a strong start.”

Bogart looked at the others. “Views on that?”

Decker said, “I think we should pass on the Morillo case.”

“Why?” Milligan asked sharply.

“Because it’s extremely likely that he’s guilty.”

As Milligan looked at him his thick neck seemed to flare out like a cobra’s. “Based on what?” he asked.

“Inconsistencies.”

“Such as?”

“Morillo was a civilian contractor to the Navy. On page two of the statement he told police that he left for work at Crane Naval Base in Martin County, Indiana, at nine a.m. He said he arrived at the base at eight-fifteen a.m.”

“That’s because—” Milligan began triumphantly, only Decker ignored him and plowed on.

“That’s because at that time Martin County and the naval base had been switched to the central time zone from the eastern time zone, effective April 2, 2006. Thus it was nine a.m. eastern standard time when Morillo left his house but eight a.m. central standard time.”

“Correct,” Milligan admitted grudgingly. “So what’s the inconsistency?”

“Morillo had a motive for killing the victims. But there was one witness for Morillo, Bahiti Sadat. He said that he saw Morillo on the street across from his shop at six-fifteen p.m. The murders, forensic and other evidence determined, occurred at six-nineteen. Since the murders were committed about ten miles from Sadat’s shop, and Morillo was on foot at the time, it was a solid alibi for Morillo.”

“But the police mostly discounted that because Sadat was Muslim,” interjected Milligan. “And this was right in the middle of the wars in the Middle East, and there was a lot of prejudice. Sadat’s testimony was rock-solid. It gave Morillo an alibi, but the jury wouldn’t buy it.” He paused, scrutinizing Decker. “I hope you don’t have those sorts of prejudices?”

Decker ignored this too and continued. “Sadat said he had just finished his evening prayer. That’s when he said he saw Morillo. He remembered it distinctly because he had just looked up from his prayer rug and through the window of his storefront. He made a positive ID.”

“Exactly,” said an increasingly impatient Milligan. “You’re making my case for me.”

Decker said, “The prayer Sadat said he had just finished was the Maghrib , the fourth prayer of the day.”

“Right. Devout Muslims pray five times a day. We all know that,” pointed out Milligan.

“Well, actually lots of people don’t know that, and back then a lot more folks probably didn’t,” said Decker. “But the point is the Maghrib prayer cannot commence before sunset. The religion is strict on that. And on that day in Indiana sunset was at seven-twelve p.m., nearly an hour later than Sadat testified he saw Morillo pass by the shop as he looked up. Now, Sadat is only human, and if he’d been off by a few minutes I don’t think anyone could blame him. But at that time of day the sun would still clearly be in the sky. No Muslim would have begun their sunset prayer when it was so clearly not sunset. And certainly no Muslim would have finished the sunset prayer nearly an hour before the sun had even gone down.”

Milligan’s jaw dropped slightly.

Bogart and Jamison shared a glance.

Davenport kept her gaze locked on Decker.

Decker added, “And in addition to that, according to the drawing the police made that was in the file, the front of Sadat’s shop faces west toward the street where Morillo was allegedly walking at the time.”

Jamison said, “And Muslims face east when praying. Toward Mecca.”

Bogart added, “Sadat’s back would have been to Morillo. When he looked up from his prayer rug he couldn’t have seen him. I’m surprised no one thought to question that.”

Decker said, “A lot of Americans don’t know that much about Muslim customs, and they knew even less back then, when most couldn’t tell you the difference between a Sunni and a Shia. I think you might find Morillo and Sadat know each other and that this alibi was prearranged, even though it didn’t work. It might determine conclusively that Morillo was guilty. But since he’s in prison where he belongs, you might not want to waste your time.”