“Thank you very much, Zoe,” he said, taking it from her.
“You’re welcome.”
Decker had turned to go. But then he faced her once more.
“Did your mom talk to you?”
She nodded. “She asked me if I wanted to stay here or move someplace else.”
“And what did you tell your mom?”
Zoe shrugged. “Daddy’s here. I don’t want to leave him all alone.”
Decker knelt down so he was eye to eye with the little girl.
“I can understand that.”
Zoe stared back at him. “You told me that when I visited Daddy he would know I was there. That he would know here.”
She touched the center of her small chest.
“Yes, I did.”
“So, I can’t leave him or else he’d be sad. He would be sad here.” She touched the center of Decker’s chest. “Right?”
Now Decker wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Right.”
She yawned.
“You better go get some sleep, okay?”
“Okay, Amos.” Zoe gave him a hug and he quietly returned to his room, his gaze downcast.
Life really is a bitch sometimes.
He sat down on his bed and looked at the plans spread out there.
Then he looked down at the ruler. Written on it in Sharpie was the name “Zoe Mitchell.”
He got up and walked over to the window and looked out over a town that was in despair, but that was perhaps slowly coming back.
But at what price?
And how many more people were going to die before it was back?
He turned his head in the direction of Zoe’s room.
Should they stay or should they go?
It would be very easy to say they should go.
Flee the violence and danger. Go to a safer place.
But where exactly was that anymore?
I guess if I have any purpose in life, it’s to help make sure there are safe places left to go to.
With that thought in mind, he sat down and used the ruler to go over every dimension of the construction drawings and Toby Babbot’s version of the same.
He used paper and pen to make his calculations, and when he was done he had found only a single discrepancy between the two documents.
But what a discrepancy it was.
Chapter 55
“Can I see Mr. Ross, please?” said Decker. He showed his credentials to the woman at the front desk of the fulfillment center. “He knows me. I’ve been here before.”
It was the next morning and Decker had driven here at a very specific time.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Ross is out on the main floor right now, Agent Decker.”
“Could I wait in his office? It’s really important,” he added, because she was the only one working the desk and several people were waiting in line behind him. “I’ve been to his office before. When Frank Mitchell was killed.”
“Oh, right, of course. That was so awful. Um.” When she still hesitated, Decker pointed to the bruise on her forearm.
“You bang that on something?”
“Squat rack at the gym.”
“You work out, that’s good. Keeps you healthy.”
“It’s not just that. I want to be a picker. I’m building myself up so I can pass the physical requirements.”
“You don’t like working in the office?”
“Pickers make a lot more money and they get overtime and a better 401(k) match. That’s what I’m gunning for.”
“Well, good luck on that. So, can I go back and wait for Ross?”
She glanced at the impatient-looking people in line behind him. “That’ll be fine. He’s doing his usual walk-around. I’m afraid it’ll be about forty-five minutes.”
“I’m in no rush.”
Decker headed off and entered the corridor behind the reception area that housed the offices of the center’s management staff.
Ross had told him previously when he did his walk-arounds, which was why Decker was here at this time window. He didn’t want the man around.
He made his way swiftly down the hall and reached Ross’s office. He tried the door, only it was locked. The blinds were open showing the office to be empty.
He looked around. There was no one in the corridor. He slipped a penknife from his pocket and used it to push back the bolt.
He shut the door behind him and closed the blinds.
The office looked exactly as it had when he’d been in here before. Ross’s coat was on a hook on the back of the door and a small duffel bag was on the floor. Decker opened the duffel and looked inside. There were some gym clothes and a pair of sneakers and white socks.
He zipped the duffel back up and took the object he’d brought with him out of his pocket.
It was a measuring tape.
He quickly measured the dimensions of the room.
The depth of the room was two feet shorter than the construction plans had indicated. That meant the entire back wall had been moved forward two feet. And there had to be a reason for that. Decker had seen from the plans that a hallway also bordered the back wall, as it did the front, so there was no wiggle room there.
He walked over to the wall behind Ross’s desk and started to examine it.
He had seen before that this wall was paneled wood with elaborate moldings, with a boxed Pittsburgh Steelers jersey hanging on one section. It hadn’t made an impact on him before, but now he found it very interesting.
Decker heard a sound that made him jump.
He looked all around the office until he located the source.
Ross’s smartphone was on a shelf behind his desk. And it was buzzing.
Someone was calling him. Decker glanced at the number, but had no way of knowing who it was; there was no name attached to the number on the screen.
He turned back to the wall and used his knuckles to tap against the wood at various spots.
Finally he reached a spot where the sound evidenced a hollow space. This was where the boxed jersey was hanging. He kept knocking against the wall here until he had mapped out a space roughly the size of a large door.
He felt around the edges but without success. The moldings were covering them.
He looked down at the carpet in front of this space.
It looked a bit frayed there, as though something might have been routinely rubbing against it.
He looked back up at the wall and decided to try something simple. Placing his finger against the edge of the hollow space, he pushed in.
Nothing happened. He kept pressing in other spots. Finally, near the ceiling, which he had to stretch to reach, he struck gold. There was a medallion up there and it appeared to be a bit loose. Decker tried turning it clockwise, but it wouldn’t move. Then he tried counterclockwise. It moved like a doorknob.
There was a click and the hollow part of the wall swung open. It partially caught on the carpet, which accounted for the wear.
It was a clever mechanism, Decker could see. There were three metal deadbolt shafts on the side of the door, one at the top, one in the middle, and one near the floor. Turning the medallion in the direction that he had caused all three deadbolt locks to recess into the door, allowing it to be opened.
Decker pulled the door all the way open and looked inside the revealed space.
It was about two feet deep and lined with shelves. That accounted for the two-foot-smaller footprint of the office. This space had been used to accommodate this storage closet. Whoever had put it in couldn’t simply recess the closet into the original footprint without moving the entire wall back, because of the hallway behind it. And if he had moved only this space forward, leaving the rest of the wall in place, it would have looked suspicious.
On the shelves were rectangular-shaped cardboard boxes.
Decker picked one up. There had once been a label on it, but most of it had been peeled off and there was no information left on it to help him.