“I…I haven’t been inside h-her house in a couple weeks,” said Davidson, his eyes rolling around in their sockets. “When I went to pick up Tyler.”
“We’ll still need to take your prints,” said Andrews.
“J-Julia’s d-dead,” Davidson said, starting to sob.
Decker put a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Davidson, why don’t you go grab a shower, and get some fresh clothes on. We’ll make you some coffee and get some water into you for hydration to knock the buzz off and then we can talk, okay? It’s really important. The first forty-eight hours are the most critical of all for any murder investigation.”
He helped Davidson to stand and then looked at Tyler, who was staring out the window, his arms folded over his heaving chest. Decker glanced at Andrews. “Let’s get him to the bathroom.”
Tyler called out, “Bring me his clothes. I’ll put them in the wash to get the stink of the booze out.”
Decker and Andrews helped Davidson to the bathroom, got the shower going, and pulled out some towels and toiletries. They got the man stripped down and into the shower. Then Decker left him there with Andrews and gave the soiled clothes to Tyler. He followed Tyler to a laundry room, where he threw the clothes into the washing machine.
“Didn’t know I was going to have to clean up after my dad,” Tyler said sullenly. “I did my stuff earlier. I had my run early this morning with the guys and got soaked through. I’m a big sweater.”
“Yeah, me too. But we have a lot more skin than most people.”
“I guess.”
He turned the machine on, leaned against the wall, and then abruptly started to sob.
Decker let him do so for a bit before saying, “Can I get you anything, Tyler?”
“N-no.” Tyler wiped his face, composed himself, and suddenly eyed Decker’s large frame. “You look like you might’ve played some ball.”
“Ohio State. And the NFL, for the briefest of times. I was a walk-on with the Browns.”
“TheOhio State University already offered me a scholarship. And I’ve got three other offers.”
“Great school. Great program. Where else?”
“Alabama, Georgia, and Stanford.”
“The best of the best. You want to play in the NFL?”
He shook his head. “I’m not at that level and never will be.”
“Most young men your age wouldn’t be able to make that sort of frank self-assessment. They usually think they’re good enough.”
“I’ve been making frank assessments all my life. I want to go into business. Silicon Valley. That’s where a lot of cool stuff is happening.”
“Well, they’re all great schools, but Stanford is right where you want to end up. And they play a pro-style offense. So as a tight end, you’ll get a lot of throws your way.”
Tyler looked intrigued. “How’d you know I played tight end?”
“You’ve got the build, the height, and your hands have calluses and abrasions all over them, especially the palms and the fingertips.”
“I could be a QB.”
“QBs throw the ball, they don’t catch it. You get that level of toughened skin from frequent high-velocity impacts with the pigskin.”
“Wide receiver, then.”
“You’re too beefy to play wideout. Those guys are slim with lightning in their shoes. And a high school coach would never waste a guy your size on that position. You could play any slot on the line with your beef. And they’d use you as an extra lineman on running plays.”
“Yeah, I pretty much do exactly that. What position did you play in college?”
“OLB,” said Decker, referring to outside linebacker.