“They ordered in pizza. I’m good.” He glanced at Decker and Jamison and smiled shyly. “It’s good to see you again, Alex. And it’s nice to meet you, Amos. I sure wish your visit didn’t have to have this awful thing connected to it.”
Decker looked at him. “I know the police already talked to Amber. But did you ever see anyone in the house behind you?”
Frank thought about this. “No, not really. I moved here several months before Amber and Zoe, to get acclimated, learn my job, and set up the house and all. I leave early in the morning and get home pretty late at night. That’s the way it’ll be for a while. It’s a big learning curve for me now that I’m in management. I’ve got to put in the extra time.”
“You never saw anyone in the backyard there? Or at the window or back door?
Frank shook his head and glanced at Amber. She said, “I’ve never really even been out in the backyard. There’s too much to do inside. Heck, I’m still unpacking moving boxes. That’s the same thing I told the police.”
“How did the people die?” asked Frank.
“The police aren’t sure yet,” said Decker.
“But you found the bodies,” said Amber. “You must have some idea of how they died.”
“I do. But it’s not something I can share with you.”
When Amber looked confused, her sister quickly said, “We might be assisting with the case. So we really can’t talk about it.”
“Assisting with the case! But I thought you were on vacation.”
Jamison glanced sharply at Decker before answering her sister. “So did I. But apparently murder doesn’t keep to a schedule. At least my schedule.”
Amber involuntarily shivered. “My God. I still can’t believe it. A murder right in our backyard, so to speak.” She gazed at Decker. “I guess you must be used to this sort of thing.”
Decker looked back at her. “You guessed wrong.” He glanced at Jamison. “Up for a short ride?”
She stared at him dumbly but nodded resignedly.
*
Their vehicle was a rental, principally because Jamison’s own car was a subcompact, which would have required Decker to bend his big body nearly in half to get in. And for such a long road trip, that was not a welcome prospect.
A Yukon had far more leg-and headroom.
“You said a short ride,” said Jamison. “Gee, let me guess our destination.”
“Just drive over to the next street, Alex.”
“And may I ask why, since we’ve already been over there?”
“Just want to see something.”
“We could just walk.”
“It’ll be easier in the truck.”
As they pulled down the street Decker pointed at the sign posted at its entrance. “Dead end. No outlet.”
“Well, dead end is an appropriate sign for this street tonight,” noted Jamison.
The police were still there processing the scene and one of the officers glanced at them as they drove by. Before he could react, however, Jamison had driven past the house. She reached the end of the road, turned around, parked the SUV at the curb a half-dozen houses down from the crime scene, and cut the lights.
As they watched, Green and Lassiter appeared at the front door. In the illumination provided by the front porch light, the two detectives seemed to be in animated conversation.
“Is that what you wanted to see?” asked Jamison, yawning.
Decker shook his head. He wanted to see the street and the cars parked there. The homes here had no garages, only carports and street parking.
The only thing was, other than the cop cars and their SUV, there were no cars parked on the street, and none near the crime scene house. Decker looked at the houses up and down the street. None had lights on, but that might be due to the lateness of the hour.
“Most of these homes don’t look lived in.”
“Well, like we’ve been told, Baronville isn’t exactly a hopping place.”
“And that also means there won’t be many eyes around that can help us with the comings and goings of the crime scene. They had to get the two men in there, either dead or alive. There’s no attached garage on the house to pull into, so they would have been exposed at some point.”
“Or the two guys could have walked in and been killed there.”
Decker closed his eyes and thought about what he had seen and heard before the lights in the house had started going on and off because of the electrical short.
A plane going over.
A series of sounds: thuds and scrapes.
A car starting up.
The plane? Obviously, no connection.
The weird sounds? Maybe connected.
A car driving away after dumping the bodies there?
He closed his eyes more tightly. His perfect recall was best with visual things. But it was still far better than average with things of an auditory nature.
“What are you doing?” asked Jamison.
Decker scrunched up his face as her voice interrupted him while he was trying to precisely conjure the noises he’d heard.
“Decker, it’s nearly one in the morning and I’m beat. We drove over six hours to get here. Well, I drove over six hours to get here.”
Decker relaxed his features. “She’s your sister. If we ever visit my sisters, I’ll drive.”
“Your two sisters live in California and Alaska, respectively. We’re not driving to California or Alaska.”
“Well, then I guess we won’t be visiting them.”
She sighed and sat back, fiddling with the turn signal on the steering column. “Why does this matter to you so much? I get that it’s murder. And it’s horrible. But you can’t investigate every murder you run across.”
“Why can’t I?” he said brusquely.
She sputtered, “Because you just can’t.”
He shook his head. “We can agree to disagree.”
A few moments of silence passed before she said, “You found who killed Cassie and Molly, Amos. They got what they deserved. But you can’t solve every murder you come across. It’s impossible. You’ll just be setting yourself up to fail.”
Decker said nothing in reply. He just stared out the window at the house where he had found the two dead men.
Finally, Jamison said, “Can we go back to my sister’s house now? Or I’m just going to curl up in the back and go to sleep.”
“We can go now.”
She quickly drove off.
They were staying with the Mitchells in two guest bedrooms upstairs. Amber told them it had once been one large bedroom but they’d converted it into two. Although Zoe was nearly six years old, Amber and Frank wanted more children.
Jamison spoke briefly to her sister, who was still up waiting for them, and then said good night. She and Decker walked up the stairs and Jamison went to her room and Decker to his.
Later, he sat at the window and looked out onto the street. It looked a lot like his hometown in Ohio. Half alive and half dead. Maybe more dead than alive, actually.
He undressed and lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
In a way, perhaps in a significant way, Jamison had hit it right on the head.
I’m trying to catch Cassie and Molly’s killer over and over again.
And it will never end, because killers will always be out there.
So this is my world and welcome to it.
Chapter 7
DECKER HAD JUST finished putting on his shoes the next morning when his phone rang.
It was Detective Green.
“What’s up?” asked Decker.
“The blood on the floor of the house?”
“Yeah?”
“You were right. It’s not human.”
“We’ll meet you in half an hour.”
*
Thirty-five minutes later Decker stared down at two metal tables on which lay the dead men from the house. Both had been autopsied. The Y-incision staples looked like the tracks of giant zippers across their chests.
A tired-looking Jamison was on his right, a crisp-eyed Detective Green on his left. The medical examiner was on the other side of the table. Detective Lassiter had not yet made an appearance.
“You’re sure it’s not human blood?” asked Decker.
The ME, a short, balding man with a paunch and a trim gray beard, nodded.
“Ran it last night, or early this morning more precisely, while I was doing these posts.” He yawned. “Simple test. The specific reagent for human blood wasn’t there. But it is blood. Probably some animal rather than synthetic. I’ll do some more tests and see exactly what we’re looking at.”