Decker glanced at White. “And getting odder by the minute.”
Chapter10
T?HE DRIVE TOOK THEM PASTpicturesque scenery, wide beaches, birds roaming the skies, high-rise condos, and oceanfront estates lurking behind sturdy gates and high walls. And all the way Decker ignored this and just stared out the rear window, seeing only images in his head.
His wife dead, his daughter dead, years and years now in the grave. Just recently, Mary Lancaster departed by her own desperate hand. And the very much alive Alex Jamison and Melvin Mars and Ross Bogart all moving on with their lives.
And here I am with a new partner and…this. Two more murders, the puzzle that always comes along with it, the interviews, the questions, the lies in response, more questions and confrontations and just plain bullshit that both the innocent and guilty continually spew out. And then it gets solved and off I go to the next one.
From Florida to North Dakota and all points in between.
He turned to see White staring at him from the front passenger seat. The woman had seen a slice of life that Decker never would. It had no doubt made her tough, ferocious in defense, but crafty and cagey and knowing she had to play by a set of rules that were biased against her to a degree that should alarm everyone but somehow never really did.
“I’m not sure I have enough in the bank to offer up cash for your thoughts,” she said, tacking on a smile.
Decker looked away. In his mind’s eye he saw Mary Lancaster lift a trembling hand with a gun in it to her mouth, insert the barrel, close her eyes, and end her life in one of the most tragic ways possible.
Then, instead of Lancaster’s face, Decker saw his own countenance. He was staring at a toilet on which sat his daughter. Father and daughter were barely a foot away from each other. One staring helpless, crushed beyond all conceivable human limits, the other staring back at him and seeing nothing because the dead could not. He had taken out his service pistol and laid it in his mouth. The muzzle of the Glock had felt metallically bitter, the barrel oil leaching onto his tongue. He had looked at Molly and then closed his eyes. His finger had slipped to the trigger and it would have only taken a couple foot-pounds of force to propel him into death with his daughter and wife. Such a simple move, one he had done thousands of times on the gun range, and several times while doing his job in the field.
And yet, unlike Mary Lancaster, he had pulled the gun free and waited for the cops to show up.
Had I been too cowardly? Had I lacked the courage that Mary had in abundance? And she left her daughter and husband behind. An option I didn’t have, and one I don’t think I could have taken.
“Decker?”
He broke from his thoughts to see White staring worriedly at him. This annoyed him.
“How much longer?” he brusquely asked Andrews.
“Coming up to the security gate now.”
“Does anybody around here live in a place without a guard gate?” asked Decker. “Is itthatfucking dangerous here?”
Andrews eyed him in the rearview, as though checking to see if Decker was perhaps joking. He said, “I don’t have a guard gate in my neighborhood. I guess I don’t make enough money.”
“Has anyone spoken to the Davidsons yet?” asked White.
“Local cops. Just to inform them of Cummins’s death. They deferred the rest to us.”
“We’ll need to establish alibis,” said White. “And what about a search warrant for the ex’s condo?”
“The woman’s body was just found this morning,” said Andrews. “Let’s take it one step at a time. And we have no grounds for a search warrant.”
“Yet,” amended Decker.
They cleared security and took the elevator up to the fourth floor of the condo building with a broad view of the Gulf on the rear side. The elevator doors opened and they were in a small vestibule with one large wooden door. Andrews knocked on it, and a few moments later they heard footsteps approaching.
The teenager was large, about six-three and two-forty. He was dressed in dark blue workout compression shorts, was barefoot, and had on a white tank top. Decker eyed his physique and noted the bulging quads and thick calves, the broad shoulders, the lanky, muscled arms. The kid already had a collegiate body, he assessed. Now if he had some decent wheels and quick-twitch muscle mass, he might have a nice college run. The NFL was a whole other matter. The funnel there got as narrow as a needle’s eye.
“Tyler?” said Andrews, who showed the young man his badge and ID. He introduced Decker and White. “We understand your father is here?”
“He’s drunk,” mumbled Tyler, who looked to Decker like he was on something though his pupils looked normal. “Shit-faced.” He shook his head, his expression pained and his eyes bloodshot from crying. “Is Mom really…?”
“Yes, Tyler, I’m afraid she is,” said Andrews.
His big hands curled to knotty fists. “I’m gonna fucking kill whoever did this.”
Andrews put a hand on his shoulder. “No, you’re not, Tyler. It’s our job to deal with this and we will. We will find whoever did this and they will never see another free day. I promise you that. Now we really need to talk to your dad.”