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“Itdoesmatter,” said Decker. “A great deal to some people. Enough to kill over, in fact. And I don’t think you ever forgot it. You just didn’t want to ever think about it again. Because the possibilities were too frightening.”

She shuddered. “Are there really innocent people who might go to prison, after all this time?”

“There is no statute of limitations on murder,” White pointed out.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe this has come back to bite me in the ass.” She looked out toward the Gulf for a few moments before turning back to them and saying in a low voice, “They were…wrapping her in…sheets.”

“Was she dead?” asked White.

“I…I don’t know, but I think so. She wasn’t moving. She looked…limp.”

“Who was the other man?”

“I…I think he might have worked on my…”

“On your father’s campaign?” prompted White.

“Yes, but I never knew his name. Hell, I’m not even sure he did work for my father. He just looked the type.”

“Didn’t they see you?” asked White.

“No. I was very quiet and just peering through the slight gap.”

“So they were wrapping up thebody?” said Decker in a prompting manner.

She closed her eyes and dipped her head. “They…they put her in a suitcase. I…I ran away before…they could see me.”

“So you don’t know what they did with it?”

“No.”

“Did you recognize the woman?”

Fellows shook her head.

“Can you describe her?” asked White, taking out a notebook and jotting some things down. “I know it was a long time ago.”

Fellows said quietly, her gaze downcast, “She was Black, in her twenties, long dark hair, slender, quite beautiful, even in…death. And she…was naked.”

“You saw all that peeking through a crack in the door?” said White skeptically.

“Well, maybe it was open more than a crack.”

“Why would they have left the door open at all if they were putting a dead, naked woman in a suitcase?” asked White.

“It wasn’t the door going into the hotel room. It was a two-room suite. It…it was the door going into the bedroom.”

“But then how did you get into the room?” asked White.

Decker held up a hand. “Just continue with your story,” he told Fellows. “Did you see any wounds? Any signs of trauma, or blood?”

“No, nothing like that. And I think I would have on the white sheets. She was just…not breathing, or moving.”

Decker leaned in. “Why didn’t you alert someone in the hotel? Or call the police?”

“I…I don’t know. I was just a kid, really. I was scared. Confused. I…I just wanted to run away and forget what I saw. And I have, all these years.” She snapped, “Until you showed up.”

Decker said, “I think there was more to it than that. Far more.”


Tags: David Baldacci Amos Decker Thriller