“For example?”
“For example, he couldn’t seem to remember which side of the hall the first bedroom was on. I suggested left. He agreed. When it’s actually on the right. That’s probably not that big of a deal. But then he said he shot Cassie while she was sleeping and then changed his story to shooting her after she woke up. The wound was a contact. I don’t see how he does that if she’s awake and screaming and maybe fighting him. And she was found on the floor. I think he remembered that and changed his story to reflect it. And he didn’t mention what else was done to her.”
Miller nodded. He obviously knew what Decker was referring to. “Go on.”
“The guy is a little cagey, but not all there. He sort of comes and goes. I don’t think his memory is that good. Also, he’s a druggie. Needle tracks on his arm are fresh.”
“Go on.”
Decker had already decided not to tell him everything he had discovered or thought about. His gut told him to hold things back, see how it all played out. “He said I dissed him at my neighborhood 7-Eleven. He didn’t say if he worked there or not. Apparently he told you guys the same thing. The 7-Eleven. Now, that store? I only ever drove there. Never walked. He doesn’t have a car. But he said he followed me back to my house. So how did he do it? And I’ve never seen the guy before. I would have remembered if someone had a problem with me.”
Miller considered all this while he rubbed one hand down his tie and fiddled with his tie clip. “You never forget anything, do you?”
Decker had never told anyone about what had happened to him. When his condition had been diagnosed he’d been sent to a research facility outside of Chicago for additional testing. He had spent months there meeting others with similar abilities, both men and women. They had done numerous group sessions together. Some had been better adjusted than others. Some had really deep problems adjusting to what they were. Some may never have adjusted. To his knowledge, Decker had been the only one not born with his condition. The others in the group seemed to have lived with it much longer than he had, which was both a positive and a negative, he supposed.
“Everyone forgets stuff,” he said.
“I had you checked out. I ever tell you that?”
Decker shook his head.
“Knew you were a jock. Saw that play on TV.”
“You mean on YouTube?”
“No, I mean I was watching the game when you got laid out. Hardest hit I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how you survived it, Amos, I really don’t.”
“Why’d you watch the game?”
“You were a damn good player for Mansfield. Best QB we’ve ever had, kickass of a linebacker on the D side. You were fast for your size. You were a good college player. And far as I know you were the only person from the humble town of Burlington to ever play in the NFL. So, yeah, I watched the game. Would’ve gone to it if I could have.”
“Well, good thing you did watch, since that play was my only one in the NFL.”
Miller continued, “And I checked your scores at the police academy. And your tests for detective grade.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Because I was curious about you, Amos. Don’t think the department didn’t notice your success rate as a cop and then a detective. You had something extra that the others didn’t have.”
“Mary is a good cop.”
“Yes, she is. Good, but not great. Good, but not perfect. But, see, your scores at the academy and later the detective’s exams were perfect. You didn’t miss a single question. They tell me it’s the first time in the history of the state. Then I went back to your college days. You were a good student, but a B student. Nothing perfect about your record back then.”
“Football didn’t leave a lot of time for studying.”
Miller rubbed his chin and looked thoughtful. “Let’s get back to it. What else you got?”
Decker could feel the migraine marching up the back of his neck. The lights in the room were dim, but right now they felt like three-ring circus illumination. The color blue, terrifyingly electric, was starting to seep out of all corners of life with the goal of converging on his very soul. He could sense it all building.
“I don’t think Leopold is our guy,” he managed to say.
“I already knew that before I sat down across from you.”
“How’s that?” Decker asked.
“You didn’t kill him before you left the precinct. Because that’s why you went in there, right? Size the guy up, ask your questions, stare him down, read his mind, see if he was the guy? And if you decided he was, no more Leopold.” He looked Decker over. “Easy enough. Football player, strong as a horse. You might be way out of shape now, but you are still one big dude. Leopold wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“You can’t arrest someone for thinking about committing a crime.”
“No, and sometimes that’s more a curse than a blessing.”
“So why the riot act with the cops and Brimmer here?”
“I’m the captain, but I have bosses too.”
“So this was a CYA visit?”
Miller surged to his feet and adjusted his tie, sliding the knot back up to his Adam’s apple.
Decker looked up at him, the migraine starting to beat against all sides of his brain. He half closed his eyes to keep out even the dim light that felt like a million incandescent bulbs. “So what are you going to do?”
“With you, nothing. Now Leopold will be arraigned based on his confession. After that we either confirm his story or we prove it false. I’ll seriously consider all that you’ve told me. At the end of the investigation he either stays locked up, goes to trial or cops a plea, or he goes free.”
“And if someone got him to do this?”
“Might give us an opportunity. I’m sure you thought of that already.”
“Will you let me know what you decide with Leopold?”
“You’re no longer on the force. I wish you were, but you’re not.”
“It was the choice I had to make at the time.”
Miller rubbed his nose and buttoned his jacket. “Well, different times call for different choices.”
He started to leave but turned back. He held up one finger. “Today was your freebie, Amos. You only get one, so you have none left. Don’t forget that. And forget Sebastian Leopold is even on the same planet as you. We’ll take it from here. You screw me over on that, I’m no longer your ally. I will crucify you. Have a good one.”
Amos Decker sat there for a minute and then rushed back to his room, locked the door, closed all the curtains, lay on the bed with the pillow over his face to block out all the remaining light, and succumbed to the beast devouring his vastly altered mind.
Chapter 11
The heavy clouds ate away at the fragile sky until there was no significant light left, although the sun was up there somewhere, diminished and vacant. It was akin to staring at a forty-watt light bulb while wearing a gauzy blindfold. For Decker, who was deeply influenced by color in everything, it seemed the only one left in the world right now was gray.
He had his hands in his pockets as the chilly wind bit into him. He had recovered from the migraine, gone to a local Wendy’s, and gulped down a Coke, letting the sugar drain the last vestiges of the discomfort away — an acid wash on dreary, stained metal — and allowing the sweat to dry off his pores. He had then bused back downtown and retrieved his gun and clothes from the trash can. Fortunately, they had not been discovered. He could not afford to lose his only other set of work clothes any more than he could his only weapon.
Now he was standing there in his old clothes, braced against a stiff wind and staring over at Mansfield High. It had been built, along with thousands of other schools across the country, in a postwar construction boom. The birth rate had spiked in 1946 and those kids would need to go to high school at some point. That’s what being away from home fighting a war for four years did to a man. It made him horny as hell. The wives of America’s returning veterans probably hadn’t slept for an entire year.