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“I just don’t get you, Decker. You snatched victory right out of the jaws of defeat, and you act like the criminal got away with it.”

“It all depends on how you define victory and defeat, I guess.”

***

Barry Davidson met them at the door with a frown.

“I’m not sure I should even let you in.”

“Wedidn’t arrest you,” White pointed out. “And now you’re free and clear, so I would hope that smiles and good cheer are in order.”

He stepped aside to let them pass and then escorted them into the living room.

“It does feel good to be home,” he said. “I made some coffee if you want some.”

“Sure,” said White. They headed into the kitchen, where Davidson poured them all cups.

“Where’s Tyler?” asked Decker.

“He left for school already,” Davidson said. “But we’re going out tonight to celebrate. Did my heart good to see him so happy. I sort of feel things are turning around for us both.”

“You mind if I have a look at Tyler’s room?” asked Decker.

“Why?”

“I saw his place at his mom’s house. I wondered if it was the same here.”

Davidson grinned. “Help yourself. You’ll find that here, Tyler is allowed to be a teenager. At his mom’s, not so much. Down the hall, third door on the right.”

“Next to your office, got it.”

Decker left them and went to Tyler’s room, glancing in the open doorway of Davidson’s office as he went by.

As Davidson had intimated, Tyler’s room looked like a typical teenage boy’s space. Movie, music, and sports posters were on the walls. The place was sloppy and cluttered with piles of dirty clothes, athletic equipment, dumbbells, a football helmet and shoulder pads, books, and an iPad lying on the floor. There was an Xbox and a set of VR goggles. There was also a poster of someone named Kaia Gerber in a bikini. And another poster was of a woman called Olivia Rodrigo. Decker didn’t know who either of these beautiful young women were, but he was pretty sure most seventeen-year-old males would recognize them.

And his father was right—this place couldn’t be more different from his room at his mom’s.

He picked up aBlack’s Law Dictionaryfrom the desk, flicked through the pages, and found what he thought he might. Then he picked up a book on psychological disorders that had been checked out of the local library. Some pages were marked with Post-it notes. He read through them. He dropped the book and gazed out the window at the Gulf.

Normally, solving a case brought a rush of euphoria.

Not this time.

He left the bedroom and poked his head into the laundry room, where’d he spoken with Tyler previously and the young man had broken down in tears over the loss of his mother. He opened the washing machine and looked inside.

Last night his memory superpower had come back just in the nick of time. Decker had taken everything that he had seen and heard during the course of this investigation and laid it next to everything else. Layer after layer of conversations, seemingly innocent remarks, certain observations, and assorted other evidence had been plucked from his personal cloud and analyzed with one another. And the truth had come out of all that with startling clarity.

It really all was in the smallest details. The ones that seemingly had no importance, right up until the moment they became the only things of importance. People lie really well on the big stuff. But no one can lie well enough to take care of the small inconsistencies.

He rejoined White and Davidson in the kitchen, where she was pouring out more coffee and Davidson was making some eggs and toast. “Don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“Knock yourself out,” said Decker.

They sat down and White watched Davidson eat while Decker stared down at his coffee cup.

Davidson said, “So, I heard something about Trevor Perlman being behind all this? What the hell is that all about? He was a good friend and he adored Julia.”

“He had some people killed, including the man and woman found at your ex-wife’s home, but he didn’t have Julia killed,” said Decker.


Tags: David Baldacci Amos Decker Thriller