Redemption

Chapter 12

It wasn’t much.

Decker was at police headquarters staring at it. The duffel held a few items of clothing. A bus ticket for Hawkins’s ride from prison. A wallet with some cash. Some paperwork from the prison that Hawkins had drawn graffiti over.

There was a dog-eared paperback book by a writer Decker had never heard of. It had a garish cover of a man holding a knife against a scantily clad woman’s throat. It was straight out of a Mickey Spillane yarn from the 1950s, he thought.

There was also a photo in the wallet of Hawkins’s daughter, Mitzi.

Her last name was now Gardiner, Lancaster had found out. She lived in Trammel, Ohio, about a two-hour car ride from Burlington. She’d been in her late twenties when her father went to prison. Lancaster had also learned that she was now married and the mother of a six-year-old boy.

The picture of Mitzi was from when she’d been in elementary school. Decker knew it was her because Hawkins had written his daughter’s name and age on the back of the photo. And Hawkins had written there, “Daddy’s Little Star.” That might be the reason Hawkins had the star tat on his arm. The photo obviously represented far happier times for the Hawkins family. Mitzi looked bright and innocent, all cheeks and smiles, as kids did at that age.

And then the dream had shattered. She had grown up to be a drug addict and petty criminal to finance her habit. She’d done short stints in jail, and longer ones in rehab. The little girl with the limitless future was no more.

Yet apparently she had finally gotten her life together.

Good for you, thought Decker. But he also knew that he would have to talk to her. Her father might have gotten in touch with her after being released from prison.

Lancaster walked in and looked at the pile of items on the table.

“Nothing?”

Decker shook his head. “Got a question.”

“Okay.”

Lancaster sat down and popped a stick of gum into her mouth.

“Stick to the gum and quit the smokes,” advised Decker.

Her lips pursed. “Thanks Dr. Decker. So what’s your question?”

“Who called it in?”

“What?”

“Who called in the disturbance at the Richardses’ house that night?”

“You know we never found out the answer to that.”

“Well, I think we need to find it out now.”

“How?” she said incredulously. “It’s been too long.”

“At the time, I read the transcript of the call and listened to the recording as well. The caller was a female. She said she’d heard a disturbance at the house. The cops were sent out and arrived shortly thereafter. Then so did we once the homicides were confirmed.”

“That we know.”

“But how did the caller know there was a disturbance? The call didn’t come from the landlines at the neighboring homes. It didn’t come from any traceable cell phone. So where?”

“I guess we weren’t too focused on that. We just thought it was a Good Samaritan passing by.”

“A convenient Samaritan, anyway. And one who is passing by in a monsoon down a dead-end road? Why go down there unless you lived there?”

Lancaster thought about this for a few moments. “And then once we got there all signs pointed to Hawkins once you found the print.”

Decker nodded because he knew this was true. And it was grating on him beyond belief.

“Okay,” he said. “We need to go over this case from square one. No predisposition that Hawkins was good for it. Fresh eyes, wide open.”

“Decker, it’s been over thirteen years.”

“I don’t care if it’s been thirteen hundred years, Mary,” he snapped. “We need to make this right.”

She studied him for a long moment. “You’re never going to get over it, are you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do.”

Decker stared at her moodily. “I need you one hundred percent on this.”

“Okay, Decker, but please keep in mind that I’ve got a slew of other cases to work on, not just Hawkins’s murder.”

Decker scowled. “This has to be your priority, Mary. If the guy really didn’t do it, we screwed his life up, sent him to prison where it looks like he was raped, and then let somebody murder him.”

“We didn’t let anyone murder him,” she retorted.

“We might as well have,” Decker shot back.

“Problem?”

They both looked over at Jamison standing in the doorway.

Lancaster finally drew her gaze from Decker. “Just two former partners having a discussion.” She turned back to Decker. “I’m sorry, Amos. I will work this case as much as I can with you. But my plate is pretty damn full.”

“What about your saying it was good working together, like old times?”

“We don’t live in old times. We live in the present.” She paused and added, “At least I do, because I don’t have a choice.”

Decker gazed at her stonily.

Jamison said, “Decker, have you heard back from Bogart?”

“He still hasn’t called you?”

“No. But he’s good with us staying here and working on the case?”

“No, he’s not. So you better pack up and head back to D.C.”

“When did you hear that?”

Decker didn’t answer.

“Decker?”

“A while back.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

“I’m mentioning it now. I’ll see you back in D.C. at some point.”

“But you mean you’re staying? Decker, you can’t.”

“Watch me.”

He stalked out.

Jamison looked down at Lancaster, who sat in the chair still slowly chewing her gum.

“What the hell is going on with him?” Jamison said. “If he disobeys orders he’s going to blow up his career at the Bureau.”

Lancaster stood. “Amos Decker has always had priorities. But his ‘career’ has never been one of them.”

“I know, he just wants to find the truth. He always says that.”

Lancaster glanced toward the door. “I actually think he just wants to find some peace. And all of this” — she paused and looked around the room — “all this is just how he survives with more guilt on his shoulders than any person has a right to bear. And what happened to Meryl Hawkins just added a shitload more, because he obviously blames himself for what happened. It’s just how he’s wired. God, I wish I’d never told Hawkins where Decker was.” She touched Jamison on the shoulder. “It was good to see you, Alex.”

Lancaster followed Decker out, leaving Jamison alone.