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Chapter 42
SURELY, A STRICKENplace.
Decker was on the rear deck of the Murder House looking at the back of the Mitchells’ home.
He had been gone all day. He had covered a lot of ground but didn’t feel as though he had made much progress. Unfortunately, that could be the textbook definition of being a homicide detective.
There was still a DEA agent on duty at the Murder House, but the flashing of Decker’s credentials had allowed him admittance per Kate Kemper’s instructions.
As he watched, the rear door of the Mitchells’ house opened and Jamison stepped out. Behind her was another tall young woman who was holding Zoe’s hand.
They all sat down around the outdoor table.
WhileDecker had never met any of Jamison’s sisters other than Amber, he assumed the woman was one of them. She had the same long, lithe build and facial features as her sister. She had obviously traveled in for the funeral of her brother-in-law. A moment later the door opened and Amber stepped out. Even from this distance it seemed to Decker that the woman had aged twenty years. She was not so muchwalking as shuffling along.
He drew back into the shadows so they wouldn’t be able to see him. He didn’t quite know why he did this. Well, maybe he did.
He didn’t want to have to be with them right now because he wouldn’t know what to say or do. And he didn’t want to blurt out something that would embarrass his partner.
He continued to watch as Zoe curled into hermother’s lap and put her thumb in her mouth.
Decker knew that every time Zoe celebrated her birthday the agony of her father’s death on the same day would be front and center. Every present she opened, every piece of cake she bit into, every candle she blew out would bring the memory of her father’s last day alive. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and there was also nothing anyone coulddo about it.
The guilt at times would be simply overpowering, ripping the smile off your face and the laughter from your throat.
Decker knew this, because almost the very same thing had happened to him. And this thought both enraged and energized him, the twin emotions combining to further fuel his desire to discover whether Frank Mitchell had been murdered or not.
The air was cool and the sisters were wearing jeans and thick sweaters, while Zoe had on a long sweatshirt with purple tights. Decker watched as Jamison went back inside and then came out carrying a tray. She poured out cups of tea. There was also a platter of food, and this sight made Decker’s stomach grumble.
It was well past seven and he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Yet watching thegroup of bereaved women, he felt guilty about his hunger.
He looked to the sky. Bogart had given him the name of a contact at the FAA. Decker had called the person and she had checked on flight arrivals and departures on the night in question in the Baronville airspace. She confirmed that there would have been no planes passing that low over Baronville.
The blind man Dan Bondhad been right and Decker wrong. A man who could not see had “seen” far more than Decker had. It was a humbling experience, and one he would never forget.
Now, he wasn’t jumping to conclusions and assuming that itwasa drone, but he couldn’t really think what else it might have been.
Decker left the house, got back into his truck, and drove off.
His destination wasthe Mercury Bar. The last time he’d been there he’d seen that they served a full menu of food as well as drinks.
Before he got there his phone buzzed. It was Milligan.
“How’s Alex doing?” he asked.
“As well as can be expected, I guess.”
“Give her my condolences.” Decker heard some paper rustling on Milligan’s end of the line. The FBI agent continued, “Okay,I got some answers for you. Maxus is a publicly traded company. Been in the FC business for about twenty years. Couldn’t find anything unusual about them. They’re big. They service lots of companies. They’re profitable. Their management is all aboveboard. No ties to ISIS or anything like that. They are exactly what they appear to be.”
“Okay, what about Stanley Nottingham?”
“He’s in his eighties, and while he used to live at the address you gave me, he recently moved to a nursing home in New Jersey.”
“What’s his background? Ties to Baronville?”
“None that I could find. He grew up in New York and worked in the fashion industry until he retired.”
“His parents?”
