Redemption

Chapter 2

Decker stood alone on the porch. He had asked Jamison to not accompany him here. He preferred to conduct this visit alone, for a number of reasons.

He remembered every inch of the more than four-decades-old split-level ranch. This was not simply due to his perfect recall, but also because this house was nearly an exact copy of the one in which he and his family had once lived.

Mary Lancaster and her husband, Earl, and their daughter, Sandy, had resided here for as long as Lancaster had been on the Burlington police force, which matched Decker’s tenure there as well. Earl was a general contractor who worked sporadically owing to the fact that Sandy was a special needs child who would always require a great deal of time and attention. Mary had been the family’s primary breadwinner for a long time.

Decker stepped up to the door. He was about to knock when it opened.

Mary stood there dressed in faded jeans, a blood-red sweatshirt, and dark blue sneakers. Her hair had once been a pasty blonde. It was now full of gray and hung limply to her shoulders. A cigarette was perched in one hand, its coil of smoke drifting up her slender thigh. Her face was as lined as a thumbprint. Lancaster was the same age as Decker yet looked about ten years older.

“Thought I might see you tonight,” she said in a smoker’s gravelly voice. “Come on in.”

He checked for the tremor that used to be in her left hand, her gun grip hand. He didn’t see it.

Okay, that’s a good thing.

She turned, and he followed the far shorter woman into the house, shutting the door behind him, a tugboat guiding a cargo ship safely into port. Or maybe onto the rocks, he didn’t know which. Yet.

Decker also noted that Lancaster, always thin to begin with, was even more gaunt. Her bones seemed to jut out at odd angles within her loose clothing, as though she had left multiple hangers in them.

“Did the gum stop working?” he asked, glancing at her lit cigarette.

They sat in the living room, a small space littered with toys, stacks of newspapers, open cardboard boxes, and a layer of chaos that was palpable. Her home had always been like this, he knew. They’d started using a maid service before Decker left town, but that had come with its own set of problems. They’d probably decided terminally junky was preferable.

She took a drag on her Camel and let the smoke trail out her nostrils.

“I allow myself one a day, about this time, and only when Earl and Sandy are out. Then I Febreze the hell out of the place.”

Decker took a whiff and coughed. “Then use more Febreze.”

“Meryl Hawkins found you, I take it?”

Decker nodded. “He said you told him where I was.”

“I did.”

“That was taking a liberty. You knew why I was in town. I gave you a heads-up.”

She sat back and scraped away at a spot on her skin with her fingernail. “Well, I sure as hell didn’t do it lightly. But I thought you’d want to know.”

“Hawkins also said you believed him.”

“Then he went too far. I told him I could see his point.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“Why would he come back here, dying, to ask us to clear his name if he’s not innocent?”

“I can think of one reason, benefiting him.”

She took another puff and shook her head. “I don’t see it that way. You get to the end of the line, you start to think differently. Not a moment to waste.”

Decker looked at the open cardboard boxes. “You guys moving?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? How can you not be sure?”

Lancaster shrugged. “What about life is guaranteed?”

“How’re things in Burlington?”

“Town’s hanging in there.”

“Unemployment’s down around the country.”

“Yeah, we have lots of ten-dollar-an-hour jobs. If you can live on twenty grand a year, even in Burlington, more power to you.”

“Where are Earl and Sandy?”

“School function. Earl handles those more than me. Work’s been a bitch lately. Bad times make for bad crimes. Lots of drug-related stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that. Why did Hawkins come to see you?”

“We worked that case together, Decker. It was our first homicide investigation.”

“When did he get out? And is he really terminal? He definitely looks it.”

“He wandered into the station two days ago. Shocked the hell out of me. At first I thought he’d escaped or something. I didn’t accept his story but straight away checked with the prison. He’s telling the truth about his cancer. And his release.”

“So they can just kick out terminally ill prisoners to die on their own?”

“Apparently some see it as a good cost-cutting tactic.”

“He told me he’s staying in town a couple more days. He’s at the Residence Inn.”

“Where you used to live.”

“He could use some fattening up with the buffet, but I doubt he has much appetite. He says he gets by on street drugs, basically.”

“Sad state of affairs.”

“He wants to meet with me again.”

She took another puff. “I’m sure.”

“He came to see me at the cemetery.”

Lancaster took one more luxurious drag on her smoke and then crushed it out in an ashtray set on a table next to her chair. She eyed the remnants with longing.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t tell him exactly why you were in town when he came back to the station earlier today and asked, though I did tell him about your family. And I didn’t actually tell him to go to the cemetery.” She studied Decker, her pale eyes finally focusing on his. “I presume you’ve gone over the case in immaculate detail in your head?”

“I have. And I don’t see any issues with what we did. We went over the crime scene, collected evidence. That evidence pointed like a laser to Hawkins. He was arrested and put on trial. We testified. Hawkins’s lawyer put on a defense and cross-examined the crap out of us both. And the jury convicted him. He got life without parole when he could have gotten the death penalty. It all made sense to me.”

Lancaster sat back in her chair.

Decker ran his gaze over her. “You don’t look so good, Mary.”

“I haven’t looked good for at least ten years, Amos. You above all should know that.”

“But still.”

“You’ve lost a lot of weight since you left here, Amos.”

“Jamison’s doing, mostly. She’s got me working out and watching my diet. She cooks a lot of the meals. All salads and vegetables, and tofu. And she got her FBI badge and creds. Worked hard for them. Really proud of her.”

“So you two are living together, then?” said Lancaster with hiked eyebrows.

“We are in the sense that we’re residing in the same condo in D.C.”

“Okay, then are you two more than work partners?”

“Mary, I’m a lot older than she is.”

“You didn’t answer my question. And, news flash, lots of older men date much younger women.”

“No, we’re not more than work partners.”

“Okay.” She sat forward. “So, Hawkins?”

“Why are you having doubts? It was a clear-cut case.”

“Maybe too clear-cut.”

“That doesn’t make sense. And what’s your evidence?”

“I don’t have any. And I don’t know if he’s telling the truth or not. But I just think since the guy’s dying and he came back here to clear his name, maybe it’s worth a second look.”

Decker did not look convinced but said, “Okay, how about now?”

“What?” she said, looking startled.

“Let’s go over to where the murders took place. I’m sure no one’s moved in there after all this time, not after what happened.” He paused. “Just like my old home.”

“Well, you’re wrong there. Someone did move into your old place.”

Decker’s jaw slackened. “Who?”

“A young couple with a little girl. The Hendersons.”

“You know them?”

“Not really. But I know they moved in about six months ago.”

“And the other place? Is there someone there too?”

“Somebody moved in there about five years ago. But they left about a year ago when the plastics manufacturing facility closed down and went overseas to join all the other factories that used to be in the Midwest. It’s been abandoned since then.”

Decker rose. “Okay, you coming? It’ll be like old times.”

“I’m not sure I need any more ‘old times.’” But Lancaster rose too and grabbed a coat that was hanging on a wall peg. “And what if it turns out Hawkins was telling the truth?” she asked as they headed to the door.

“Then we need to find out who really did it. But we’re not there yet. In fact, we’re not even close.”

“You don’t work here anymore, Decker. Finding a murderer here after all this time isn’t your job.”

“Finding killers is my only job. Wherever they might be.”