Long Shadows

Chapter 67

“You look tired,” Decker said to White as they later sat down to dinner at a restaurant near the hotel.

“I was just on a Zoom call helping Calvin with math. I hate math, I’m no good at it. And it wears me out.”

“Is he good at it?”

“Better than me. And I don’t remember doing the kind of math he is when I was that age.”

“And your daughter?”

“Jacky’s still easy. I’ve got a couple more years before I can’t help with her homework.”

Decker idly stacked his fork on top of his spoon. “My daughter was good with numbers. She could see them line up in her head. Made it easy to do the math problems.”

“That’s cool,” White said quietly, watching him closely.

“She got that from her mom, not me. Cassie was a nurse. She was good at figures and stuff, too.”

“What were you good at?”

“Before I became what I am, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t remember, really. Maybe just football.”

“I thought your memory was infallible.”

“Yeah, well, what’s really infallible? Clearly not people.”

They ate their meals and discussed the case.

“It seems to me that we’re no further along than when we got here,” said White in a frustrated tone. “We’ve got a hodgepodge of clues, all pointing in different directions, one guy under arrest, another guy who might have done it. But with both of them the clues add up one way, but not all the way.”

“Maybe we’re looking at the wrong suspects then,” said Decker, plunking a fry in his mouth and chewing it. He hefted his beer and took a drink.

“Which means we have to find new suspects. And if you think those people dying are also tied to Kanak Roe’s disappearance, we need a whole new set of facts. And maybe a parallel universe to reside in.”

He put his beer down. “You know what I wonder?”

“No, Decker, but I’m sitting here with bated breath just waiting to hear.”

“How did Kanak Roe, after leaving the Secret Service without his federal pension, manage to start a security business in Miami and grow it into Gamma?”

“Hard work, perseverance, some luck?” she suggested. “Isn’t that the American Dream?”

“Lots of people try to do that, and yet most of them don’t build their dream into a billion-dollar enterprise.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m just wondering if he had help,” said Decker.

“Help? What kind of help?”

“Any kind of help.”

“You mean from his Secret Service days?” asked White.

“Yeah.”

“Well, he guarded presidents, met a lot of wheeler-dealers, no doubt. They might have supported him in the private sector.”

“I’m thinking about something other than legal means,” said Decker.

“Why are you thinking along this line all of a sudden?”

“I’ve been thinking about it ever since I learned the man was terminal and headed out on his boat never to be seen again.”

“What’s the connection with his illness and a boat ride?” asked White.

“I just think researching his past might not be a bad thing. Like we did with Draymont and Lancer. That definitely panned out for us because we found out they knew each other in DC and were running a blackmail business.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

“We can start by talking to his daughter,” noted Decker.

“You want to call her or go see her tomorrow?”

“The night’s still young. Why don’t we drive there? I’ll call her first.”

“That’s not a quick trip,” White pointed out.

“Pack a bag. We can stay over in Miami.”

“Okay, but she might not know much.”

“She strikes me as a daughter who knows pretty much everything about her old man. Maybe more than he wanted her to,” added Decker.

“If you’re wrong, then we are wasting time on something totally unrelated to four homicides. John Talbott back in DC will not be happy.”

Decker gazed at her. “Is that how you judge your work performance? By how happy your boss is?”

“Not necessarily. But it is how I keep score on my career trajectory. And, unlike you, apparently, I need my job and my path to keep moving upward.”

“I’ll make a deal with you, Freddie. We go to Miami and talk to Roe. Nothing pops from that, we come back here, stay in our lanes, and make Talbott a proud poppa.”

“I don’t need you to patronize me, either.”

“You want to hear something?”

“I don’t know — do I?” said White.

“You got great instincts. You read people well. You know what to look for. You know when to hold a suspect’s hand and when to bring the hammer down.”

“But?”

“Who says there’s a but?”

“Just tell me, Decker.”

“I got this shit going on in my head that gives me insights sometimes, but also makes me a pain to work with. I’ve got no family to support, and if the FBI wants to can me, so be it. Fuck them and I’m on my way somewhere else.”

“So where does that leave me?”

“I don’t know. But it leaves me in no position to second-guess you and your career choices. I haven’t walked in your shoes. In fact, I don’t own any heels in your particular color.”

“Why do I think, in a really screwy roundabout Amos Decker sort of way, you’re trying to pay me a compliment?”

He rose. “I’ll call Roe. When will you be ready?”

“Just as soon as you are. And in every way you can think of.”