Текст книги "Memory Man"

Автор книги: David Baldacci

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

Chapter

9

THEY ROUNDED THE corner of the hall and there he was, a rat in a cage, at least to Decker’s thinking. But that wasn’t enough. He needed to be sure.

Brimmer looked at Decker and then Leopold.

“There he is. I can give you fifteen minutes, max.”

“All I’ll need,” replied Decker.

There was a jailer there, again a guy that Decker didn’t recognize. As a detective for ten years he hadn’t mixed that much with the uniforms.

“Open it up, please,” said Brimmer to the jailer.

Keys came out and the door slid back and Decker walked into the cell and stared down at the man, who sat perched like a cat on the bunk bed.

Brimmer said, “Fifteen minutes, okay?”

Decker nodded but didn’t look at her. Her heels tap-tapped away. Decker waited until the jailer went back to his desk at the end of the corridor before moving forward and fully focusing on the prisoner.

Sebastian Leopold wasn’t as big as he would have thought from Lancaster’s description.

Or maybe I’ve just gotten a lot bigger.

They’d put him in an orange prison jumpsuit. His hands and feet were manacled and the waist chain bolted to the wall. Which was a pity because if he tried to attack Decker, Decker could just kill him in self-defense.

The head turned to Decker and he braced for some sort of recognition from Leopold. But none came. Strange, since he’d apparently dissed this guy so badly he’d taken his revenge in the slaughter of Decker’s family.

The eyes were bloodshot, the pupils dilated. Decker figured the cops had given him a drug test, made him pee into a bottle, taken a cheek swab for DNA and breathalyzed him for booze. The jumpsuit had short sleeves, so the man’s forearms were revealed. There was a tattoo of twin dolphins on his right arm. That was interesting.

There were also drug tracks. And they looked relatively new. He wondered if the man had taken a pop before waltzing in here and copping to three murders. You’d need some extra juice to do something like that, Decker thought.

Part of one finger on his left hand was gone, cut off at the first section. There was a scar on his face. A busted nose that slid ten degrees to the left. Hands heavily callused and strong-looking. He had done manual labor.

And are those the hands that took Molly from me?

“Mr. Leopold?” he said.

Leopold continued to look at him without really seeing anything. At least it seemed that way to Decker.

Still no recognition. And with the cleanup and cutting of beard and hair, Decker looked closer to the cop he’d been seventeen months ago when he’d allegedly dissed Leopold at the 7-Eleven.

He stared into the man’s face and turned on his DVR. Frame after frame raced through his mind, going back to the precise time period when he had supposedly run into the man. The date flashed up in his head so close that it seemed to be on the other side of his eyeballs. One month before the murders, that’s what Lancaster had said. Decker tacked on one week on either side of that date just to be sure.

His DVR whirred and frames flew past by the hour, by the minute. Decker had been to that 7-Eleven three times during that period.

Sebastian Leopold was simply not in there.

Decker shut off his DVR and sat down in a chair built into the wall.

“Mr. Leopold,” he said in a low voice. “Do you recognize me?”

Leopold seemed to be listening but not actually hearing.

“Do you recognize me?”

Leopold gave a shake of the head.

He moved his hands in odd ways in front of him. Decker observed the precise patterns the man was making.

“You need an attorney,” said Decker, and he patted his briefcase.

Leopold stopped moving his hands and nodded at this.

Decker took out his pad and pen.

“Can you tell me what happened that night?”

“Why?”

There was a sudden caginess in the voice that slightly surprised Decker. He had interviewed many prisoners, many accused. Many were dumb as dirt and had committed crimes for reasons stupider than they were. But some were a lot smarter than folks gave them credit for. And maybe Leopold was one of those.

“You need a defense. You’ve confessed to three murders.”

“I’m guilty. I done it.”

“You still need legal representation.”

“Why?”

“It’s just how the legal system works. So I need to know the facts.”

“They’re going to execute me.” The tone was of a child confessing his expected punishment. The cagey prisoner had transformed into a little boy. Decker wondered if it were the drugs doing this to him, making a pinball game out of his thought process.

“Is that what you want?”

“Not up to me.”

“You’re right. It’s largely up to a judge and a jury. But you still have input. So, you want to tell me what happened?”

Decker checked his watch. Four minutes had passed. And at any moment someone might walk by who knew him. He turned so that his back was to the cell door.

“I killed them,” said Leopold simply. He was staring dead at Decker now, and Decker was looking for any hint of recognition in the other man’s eyes. If he saw it, what would he do? Strangle the man like he might have done to his daughter?

Leopold started moving his hands again. He looked like a conductor leading an orchestra that didn’t exist. Decker watched for a few moments, then refocused.

“And why did you do that?”

“Dude pissed me off.”

“What dude?”

“The dude. Dude that lived there.”

“How he’d piss you off?”

“Just pissed me off.”

“But how?”

“Didn’t show me no respect.”

“You worked there? You were a customer there? At the 7-Eleven on DeSalle?”

Leopold ignored this and said, “Well, I got him, didn’t I?”

“How’d you do that?”

“Killed his family.”

“No, I mean how did you know where he lived?”

“Followed him.”

“How?”

Now there came a caution in the man’s eyes that Decker had not seen before.

“I don’t need to tell you shit. You a cop? Trying to trick me?”

“You confessed, Mr. Leopold. There’s nothing left to trick. Do you see that?”

Leopold blinked and rubbed at his neck. “Yeah, I guess I see that.”

“And, no, I’m not a cop. So you followed him. How?”

“What do you mean, how?”

“Car, foot, bike?”

“Ain’t got no damn bike.”

“So a car?”

“If I ain’t got a bike, I ain’t got no car.”

“So on foot, then?”

Leopold nodded slowly and then studied Decker closely, perhaps to see his reaction to this.

Decker wrote something down on his pad. He wiped a bead of sweat off his brow even though it was cold in the basement cell. If he was discovered here, he could go to jail. And he didn’t actually like talking to people, so the briefer the better. But he had to do this. This might be his only chance.

“So you found out where this ‘dude’ lived and then you planned to kill his family. But you waited a month or so. Why?”

“Who said I waited a month?”

“That’s what you told the police.”

Leopold hunkered back down, the rat hiding among the crevices. Only there was no place to hide in here.

“Okay, that’s right. I had to plan it out. Watch the place, see what the lay of the land was, so to speak.”

Decker glanced down at the tattoo. “When were you in the Navy?”

Leopold’s eyes flashed for just a second. “Who says I was?”

Decker pointed at the tat. “Two dolphins. Sailors often have those. You have it positioned so it won’t show from under your uniform sleeve, per regulations.”

Leopold looked down at the tat as though it had betrayed him.

“I’m not in the Navy.”

“So you got the lay of the land and then went there that night. Take me through it.”

Decker glanced over his shoulder at a sound. But it was only the jailer walking down the corridor. He rubbed another bead of sweat off his cheek.

“Take you through it?” parroted Leopold.

“From the moment you got there to the moment you left. Let’s start with how you got there.”

“Walked.”

“House address?”

Leopold hesitated. “It was a two-story, yellow siding, carport on the side.”

“How’d you get in?”

“Side screen door into the kitchen.”

“Remember any details of the room?”

“It was a damn kitchen, man. Stove, dishwasher, table, and chairs.”

“Remember the color of the walls?”

“No.”

Decker glanced at his watch again. He had to speed this up, and his anxiety at being here was growing by the second.

“Who’d you kill first?”

“The dude. Thought it was the guy that dissed me. But I guess it wasn’t.”

“How do you know that?”

“Pictures in the paper. After.”

“Go on.”

“He was at the kitchen table. Been drinking.”

“How do you know that?”

Leopold looked up, obviously irritated. “Why you keep me asking me that?”

“Because the cops will. The court will. The jury will want to know these things.”

“Hell, I confessed.”

“They can still try you.”

Leopold looked shocked by this. “Why?”

“To make themselves look good. How do you know he’d been drinking?”

“Beer bottles on the table.”

“How’d you kill him? He was a lot bigger than you.”

“He was drunk. I took my knife and cut him, right here.” He pointed at his neck.

“He was found in the adjoining room.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right. But, see, he crawled in there, after I cut him. Bleeding like a bitch. Then he, hell, he just didn’t move again.”

“Did he make any sounds?”

Leopold said, “Yeah, but not no loud ones.” He pointed to his neck again. “Got him here. Couldn’t make much noise.”

“Remember what he was wearing?”

Leopold looked blankly at him. “Long time ago. Pants? Shirt?”

“What next?”

“Knew he had a family. Went to go kill them too.”

“Take me through it,” Decker said calmly, though he was feeling the opposite. His heart was beating so fast he could feel the pulses in every part of his body, like he had a thousand tiny hearts pumping madly.

Almost there, just hang on, Amos, just hang on.

“I went up the stairs. First room on, on—”

“The left?” suggested Decker.

Leopold pointed at him. “Yep. The left.”

“And?”

“And I went in. She was in the bath—no, she was on the bed. That’s right, on the bed. Pretty little thing. She had a nightie on. See right through it. Damn, the bitch looked good.”

Decker gripped the edge of his chair and kept his eyes on Leopold. His wife had not been raped. That had been confirmed. But there had been something else.

“So the light was on?” Decker asked.

“What?”

“You said you could see right through her nightie. I was assuming the light was on.”

Leopold looked unsure. “No, I don’t think it was.”

“Then what?”

“I stood over her.”

“While she was lying in the bed?”

Leopold looked crossly at him. “Shit, man, can you let me tell it?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“I had my gun. I put it against her forehead and I shot her.”

“What kind of gun?”

Leopold answered right away. “Forty-five. Smith and Wesson.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Stole it off some guy.”

“Guy have a name?”

Leopold just shrugged.

“Keep going.”

Overhead Decker could hear doors opening and feet trooping around. It seemed some of the cops were returning from the high school.

“So I shot her. No, wait a minute. She did wake up, come to think. She sat up, she was starting to scream. That’s right. And I shot her. Then the bitch fell off the bed.”

“Flat on the floor? Her whole body?”

Leopold looked at him warily. “Maybe parta her got hung up. Foot or arm or something.”

“What then?”

This was the critical point. The one that had not made it into the papers. The wound to her head was not the only one Cassie had suffered. It had been discovered during the autopsy.

She had not been raped. But the outside of her genitals had been mutilated.

“Knew he had a daughter. I went down the hall to her room. She was sleeping.”

“So you were done with the woman. Nothing else with her?”

Leopold just stared up at him. “I told you what I done. I shot her. Dead!”

“Okay.”

“Then I went down the hall to the kid.”

“Wait a minute, the shot didn’t wake the girl up?”

Leopold looked puzzled again. “I, no, don’t think so. She was sleeping.”

“Then what?”

“I took her outta the bed.”

“Why?”

“I just did. Wasn’t thinking too clearly then. Took her to the bathroom.”

“Again, why? Not thinking too clearly?”

“That’s right. Maybe I had to take a leak and didn’t want her getting away.”

“Did you take a leak?”

“Don’t remember.”

“And she didn’t scream when she saw you?”

“No. She was scared, I guess. And…and I told her to be quiet.”

“Then?”

“Then I strangled her. Put my hands around her neck and just squeezed tight as—”

Decker put up a hand for him to stop. He looked away for a moment, the most brilliant blue blinding him. The color was so bright he thought he might be sick. It was like he was suffocating in sapphire.

“Hey, man, you okay?” asked Leopold with genuine concern on his face.

Decker’s forehead was drenched in perspiration. He slowly wiped it off. “Okay, you killed her, then what?”

Leopold looked unsure again.

Decker said, “Did you do anything with the body? Do something with her clothing?”

Leopold snapped his fingers. “That’s right,” he said, his face beaming like he’d just got the answer right in algebra class. “I sat her up on the toilet and I tied her, uh, whatchamacallit.”

“Her robe belt?” prompted Decker.

“Right, her robe belt around her and the toilet.”

“Why?”

Leopold just stared at him. “’Cause…’cause that’s what I thought to do at the time.”

“How’d you get away?”

“I went out the way I came in.”

“Did you have a car?”

“No, I told you I walked!”

“Anybody see you?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What’d you do with the gun?”

“Trash.”

“Where?”

“Don’t remember.”

“The knife?”

Leopold shrugged. “The same.”

“You tell anybody what you did?” asked Decker.

“Not till now.”

“So why now?”

Leopold shrugged again. “They gonna fry my ass?”

“Lethal injection. Frying comes later.”

“Huh?”

“In hell.”

“Oh, yeah.” Leopold chuckled like he thought Decker was making a joke. “That’s a good one.”

“So why come forward now?” asked Decker.

Leopold said, “Seemed as good a time as any. Ain’t had nothing else going on.”

Decker eyed a lump on the side of Leopold’s neck. “What’s that lump? You sick?”

Leopold reached up and gingerly touched it. “Ain’t nothing.”

“You have it checked out?”

Leopold snorted. “Yeah. I went to the Mayo Clinic on my jet. Paid in cash.”

Sarcasm. Interesting.

“If you were in the Navy you might have health coverage.”

Leopold shook his head. “DD. Dishonorable discharge.”

“So you were in the Navy?”

“Yeah,” conceded Leopold.

The sounds from above were getting louder. Decker checked his watch. Two minutes left and Brimmer seemed like the type who would show up right on time to escort him out.

“Any PTSD?”

“Any what?”

“Head problems? Depression? From combat?”

“I was never in combat.”

“So you’re just a sick son of a bitch who wipes out a family because somebody dissed you?” Decker kept his voice level and calm.

Leopold attempted a grin. “I guess so. I’m bad news, man. Always have been. If my momma were alive she could tell you. I’m just a shit. Screwed up every damn thing I ever touched in my whole life. No lie.”

“And when we check your military records it’ll show you were in the Navy as Sebastian Leopold?”

Leopold nodded, but absently, as though he weren’t really agreeing with the statement.

Decker leaned closer. “Let me ask it clearer. Is Sebastian Leopold your real name?”

“One I been using.”

“Since birth or more recently?”

“Not since birth, no.”

“So why use that name, then, if it’s not yours?”

“What’s in a name, man? Just letters stuck together.”

Decker pulled out his phone and, pointing it at Leopold, said, “Say cheese.”

He took Leopold’s picture and then put his phone away.

Then he held out a pen and a piece of paper. “Can you write down your name for me?”

“Why?”

“It’s just for my records.”

Leopold took the pen and slowly wrote out his name.

Decker took back the paper and the pen, stood, and said, “I’ll be in touch.”

He went to the door and called for the jailer. When the man came and unlocked the door Decker said, “Memory serves, there’s a bathroom right down there, right?” He pointed the opposite way he had come in.

The jailer nodded. “Yep, men’s room is the first door.”

Decker stuffed his pad and pen back into the briefcase and moved swiftly down the hall toward the john. His change in plan had been prompted by the footsteps he’d heard clattering down the steps. More than one pair, which meant that Brimmer had reinforcements. Which meant they knew something was up.

Decker walked past the door to the toilet and hung a left and then a right and hit another corridor. He was as familiar with the layout here as anyone.

The hall ended in a door. He opened it and stepped out onto the loading dock. There was no one there. And only one truck backed up to the dock, its overhead door open, revealing the trailer to be empty.

Decker skittered down a short stack of steps and his new, tight shoes hit asphalt. He turned left down an alley and emerged on the main street ten seconds later. He hung another right and then a left at the next intersection. There was a hotel there and a cabstand.

He told the lead cabbie, “Head north as far as five bucks will take me.”

The cab dropped him off a while later. He hoofed it to a bus stop, and two rides later he was back at the Residence Inn. As he stepped off the bus he noted there were two police cars parked out front and an official departmental car he knew had to belong to someone other than a street cop.

Well, shit.

Chapter

10

THE ONLY GOOD thing, figured Decker, was that he hadn’t gotten the chance to retrieve his gun from the trash can along with his other clothes. Walking in armed to the situation that was probably awaiting him would not be smart. He could run for it, he supposed, but that was probably what they were expecting. And he didn’t like running. He just wasn’t built for it anymore.

So he loosened his tie, undid his top shirt button, let out a sigh of relief as his thick neck was freed from this glorified noose, and walked into the lobby of the Residence Inn. There he was immediately surrounded by four police officers.

Decker studied them calmly. “With what’s going down at Mansfield I didn’t think you’d be able to spare the manpower.”

“Cut the shit, Decker,” said a familiar voice.

Decker slid his gaze to the side. “Hello, Mac.”

“That’s Captain Miller to you.”

“I’m no longer on the force.”

“Show some respect or you might be in a jail cell before I’m done with you.”

MacKenzie Miller was in his late fifties, puffy as a bullfrog and with similar coloring. He was as wide as he was tall, Decker in miniature. He was dressed in a suit, and when his coat moved open as Miller strode across the lobby, Decker could see the ubiquitous braces that held up the man’s pants, though his substantial waistline, like Decker’s, did that job fine all by itself.

“And why would that be?”

Miller gave him a patronizing look and then snapped, “Brimmer!”

An embarrassed-looking Sally Brimmer hurried over from where she had been standing next to a fake ficus plant with a thick coating of dust on the leaves.

“Is this the man, Ms. Brimmer?”

“That is undoubtedly him, sir,” she said quickly, narrowing her eyes and giving Decker a venomous look.

“Thank you,” said Miller with an undertone of triumph. He turned back to Decker. “You came into the precinct today while we were undermanned because of the horrific situation at Mansfield, and using this situation to your advantage you misrepresented yourself as a lawyer and gained admittance to Sebastian Leopold’s jail cell.”

“Well, that’s one version,” said Decker.

Brimmer exclaimed, “That is the only version.”

“No, it’s actually not,” said Decker calmly.

Miller spread his pudgy hands wide. “Then lay another on me, Decker. This has to be good.”

“I came into the precinct and asked to see Sebastian Leopold. I said he needed a lawyer. I never said I was a lawyer.”

“You gave me your card,” pointed out Brimmer.

Decker’s mind had already flown forward six moves. It was like he was playing chess and they were playing checkers. “I gave you a card. It was Harvey Watkins’s. He’s a member of the bar. I’ve done PI work for him. He handles criminal cases. And he’s good. I’ve sniffed out work for him before. No law against it.”

“But you represented yourself as this Watkins person,” exclaimed Brimmer.

“Maybe you took it that way. But I never provided ID that said I was Harvey. And you never asked for my ID. I just gave you his card when you asked if I was an attorney.”

“But you said you knew Pete Rourke,” said Brimmer in an exasperated tone.

“I do know Pete. Worked with him for years. Again, no crime against telling the truth.”

“But you…you…” Brimmer faltered and looked at Miller for help. But the captain kept his gaze on Decker. He obviously wanted to see this play out.

Decker continued, “I guess since I had on a suit and tie and carried a briefcase you just assumed I was a lawyer. I asked you for an interview with Leopold. You said I had fifteen minutes. I took my allotted fifteen minutes, and then I left Leopold sitting in his cell.” He looked around at the cops. “So I’m not sure why the cavalry is here.”

Brimmer looked stunned. The cops looked unsure. Miller clapped his hands in appreciation and then pointed at the uniforms. “You boys can head on.” He hooked a thumb at Brimmer. “And give the lady a ride back, will ya?”

“Captain Miller,” Brimmer began, but he waved her off.

“Later, Brimmer. Just go with the fellas.”

They trooped out, leaving Miller and Decker staring at each other.

Miller said, “Can we talk about this?”

“You need to focus on Mansfield, Mac. You want to come back and arrest me, I’ll be right here.”

Miller nodded and an appreciative smile broke over his features before disappearing. “Let’s sit for a few. Can I get a decent cup of coffee in this place?”

Decker led him over to his table in the restaurant off the lobby. Then he poured out two cups of coffee from a beverage stand set up against one wall and brought them back over, sitting down across from his former boss.

“How’s Mansfield?” asked Decker.

“Catastrophic. We’re still finding…stuff. Bodies. The death count will go higher, no question.”

“What about Pete’s grandson?”

Miller shook his head. “I don’t know, Amos. I don’t have names yet. A bunch of cops’ kids go there. It’s the biggest high school we have.”

“And the shooter?”

Miller ground his teeth. “He got away.”

“How?”

“Don’t know yet. Everything is still…developing.”

“Usually they eat their own bullet on site.”

“But not this time. It’s like a school shooting a week now across the country. When’s it going to end, Amos? You’re a smart guy. When?”

“I’m not that smart.”

Miller slowly nodded while drumming his fingers on the fake wood tabletop. In several quick bursts he drank down his coffee. Rubbing his lips, he said, “Why’d you do it, Amos? Talking your way in to see that son of a bitch?”

“Wanted to eyeball him for myself.”

“Lot of ways to do that without doing what you did.”

“Brimmer shouldn’t get in trouble.”

“Well, you taught her a very valuable lesson. Don’t trust anybody.” He eyed Decker’s suit and tie. “I heard you’d gone down in the world. Was my info wrong?”

“I was a lot farther down than this.”

“You and Mary were a great team. Damn shame.”

“It’s all a damn shame, isn’t it?”

Miller crumpled up his empty paper cup. “What’d you talk to Leopold about?”

“I have notes, if you want to see them.”

Miller loosened his tie. “I’d rather hear them, from you.”

“He’s a strange guy.”

“If he killed three people in cold blood, I’d say he’s very strange. I hope someone like that is always considered ‘very strange’ no matter how screwed-up the world becomes.”

“He had some knowledge of the crime, but nothing he couldn’t have gleaned from the papers. Or—”

“Or what?” Miller said quickly, his light blue eyes holding steadily on Decker’s face.

“Been told by someone who had more detailed knowledge of the crime.”

“As in the person or persons who actually did it?”

“Do you see Leopold as our guy?”

“I don’t see him one way or another. All I know is he walked in early this morning and confessed. What else?”

Decker said, “He was in the Navy. I noted the tat and he finally admitted that he was. Sebastian is probably not his real name. Checking with DoD should tell us who he is. Guy has a lump on his neck. It doesn’t seem to be causing him pain. But it might be cancerous. He was confused on some of the major details at the scene.”

“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.”