Both men watched the players for a few minutes.
Mars said, “Their wideout is one fast dude with moves and good hands. You see the post-route stutter he just did before taking it downtown?”
“Reminded me of you. But then you could always just run over someone too, if the moves didn’t work.”
“Yeah, well, that’s ancient history.”
“You been thinking about what you want to do?”
“Sure. No answers yet. Just taking it one day at a time. How’s your case coming?”
“It’s taken a couple of twists, actually.”
“Things starting to gel for you yet?”
“Just when they start to, something else comes along and screws it up.”
Mars patted Decker on the shoulder. “My money’s still on you, bro.”
Decker said, “You want to go see someone who likes football?”
“Sure, who?”
“You’ll see.”
* * *
An hour later they pulled into the parking lot of Dominion Hospice.
“Hospice?” said Mars as they climbed out of the car.
“Come on, Melvin.”
Minutes later they were sitting in Joey Scott’s room.
Mars stared down at the boy in obvious distress, but Decker said to Joey, “This is my friend Melvin Mars. He was an All-American running back at Texas and was a Heisman Trophy finalist a while back. He never got to play in the NFL, but he would’ve been a Hall of Famer.” He pointed to the picture on Joey’s nightstand. “Like your buddy Peyton there.”
“Wow,” said Joey. He held up his hand for Mars to shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mars.”
Mars’s hand swallowed the boy’s as he gently shook it. “Just call me Melvin,” he said, glancing at Decker.
Decker said, “Joey played football too. Would’ve been a heckuva player.”
“Yep, I can see that,” said Mars. “I bet you were fast, Joey. You got that build.”
Joey nodded. “I was really fast.” He coughed and tried to sit up. Mars bent down to help him.
“And I could throw too. I played quarterback in Pop Warner.”
“Probably the most important position on the field,” said Mars. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. “I remember one game where we were behind the whole way. We were all discouraged. Pretty sure we were going to lose. Well, our QB comes into the huddle after a timeout and says, ‘Okay, guys, we’re going to win this game because we’re eleven men with one goal. And nobody can stop that. I’ve got this and I’ve got your back, so let’s do this thing.’ And you know what?”
“What?” asked Joey breathlessly.
“We won that game and every one after that, including the Cotton Bowl.” He held up one finger. “’Cause one guy believed in us. That was all it took.”
Joey smiled as Mars held out his fist for Joey to knuckle smack.
Joey looked over at Decker. “Thanks for bringing Melvin to see me. He’s cool.”
“Yeah, I think so too,” said Decker.
* * *
After they left Joey and were walking back to the car, Mars asked quietly, “So he’s got no shot?”
“Apparently not,” said Decker.
“Shit, he ain’t even had a chance at a life.”
“I know,” said Decker. “Life sucks. A lot.”
Mars looked over at Decker. “I guess we both know that.”
“You made his day, Melvin.”
“He did the same for me.”
“How so?”
“Just makes you think about the future. What I’m going to do. Joey doesn’t have that chance. So it makes me not want to screw up with mine. I mean, you only get one shot, right?”
Decker slowly nodded.
They climbed into the car and Mars drove off. “Back to your apartment?” he asked.
“Yeah, Alex is there. You got dinner plans?”
“Yeah, actually I do.”
“Brown?”
“Harper.”
Decker cracked a smile. “Harper.”
“Maybe we could do a double date down the road.”
“That requires two couples. And Alex and I are not a couple. I’m more like her big brother. Her really big brother.”
“I know that. It would just be hanging out.”
Mars dropped Decker at the apartment and drove away. Decker watched him go for a bit. He saw Jamison’s car in the parking lot, so he knew she was there.
But he didn’t go in. Instead, he turned to the east and started walking. Twenty minutes later he was standing outside of Cecilia Randall’s row house.
The police and FBI were finishing processing the scene. Decker’s creds got him inside. He stood in the small front room and looked around.
An FBI tech closed up her evidence kit and looked over at him. “You were here before, with Special Agent Bogart.”
“That’s right. What can you tell me?”
“One shot to the back of the head. Instant death. She was found in her bedroom.”
“On the bed?”
“No, next to it.”
“Did she fall off?”
“No, all forensics point to her being on her knees next to the bed.”
“Whoever killed her probably made her do that?”
“That’s my thinking. She was in a long shirt and pajama bottoms. The bed had been slept in.”
“And I understand no forced entry. All locks work? Windows?”
“All secured. This is not the safest neighborhood. And while she didn’t have a security system, she had extra locks on the front and back doors. All the windows had security pins.”
“If she was asleep then someone either picked the locks or had a key.”
“We checked the door locks. Even the best pick guns will leave some marks behind. We found none.”
“So a key, then?”
“Looks to be.”
“Anything stolen?”
“She had lots of knickknacks. But there was no jewelry to speak of. No prescription drugs in her medicine cabinet. Her purse was found, and her wallet, credit cards, and cash were still in it.”
“So no robbery, then. They just came to kill her.”
“I understand this might be connected to a case you’re working on?”
“It could be very connected.”
“Well, good luck. Hope you find who did this.”
Me too, thought Decker.