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Chapter6
A GENTLE RAIN KICKEDINas Decker trudged along the pavement.
It felt very odd to once more be investigating a crime in his hometown. The last time had involved the murder of his family. This one was different, but it still affected Decker personally.
If I was part of convicting an innocent man?
He looked around as he walked. He had decided not to come back for Cassie’s birthday, or their wedding anniversary. That simply would have been too much for him to handle. Yet he would keep returning for their daughter’s birthday. He had to be here for that milestone, though each visit was emotionally crippling for him.
His long feet carried him past where he was staying, and after a few miles he reached the long-established neighborhood. It was light now. He stopped walking and stood on the corner staring up at the place he used to call home.
The last time he’d been here was two years ago. It looked remarkably unchanged, as though time had stood still since his last visit. Although there were two unfamiliar cars in the driveway, a Ford pickup and a Nissan Sentra.
As he stood there, a man in his early thirties and a girl around seven came out of the side door. The girl was carrying a school backpack and the man was dressed in khakis and a white collared shirt with a windbreaker over it. He carried a slim briefcase in one hand. The girl yawned and rubbed her eyes.
They climbed into the pickup truck and backed out of the driveway. That’s when the man spotted Decker standing there watching the house.
He rolled down his window. “Can I help you, buddy?”
Decker studied him more closely. “You must be Henderson.”
The man eyed him suspiciously. “How do you know that?”
“A friend told me.” He pointed at the house. “I used to live there a few years ago.”
Henderson ran his gaze over Decker. “Okay. Did you leave something behind?”
“No, I, uh…” Decker’s voice trailed off, and he looked confused.
Henderson said, “Look, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a little odd that you’re standing out here this early in the morning watching my house.”
Decker pulled his FBI creds out of his pocket and showed them to Henderson. “My friend on the police force told me you’d bought the house.”
“Wait a minute,” said Henderson, staring at the ID card. “Amos Decker?”
“Yeah.”
Henderson nodded and looked anxious. “I heard about—” He snatched a glance at his daughter, who was paying close attention to this exchange.
“Right. Anyway, have a good day. Hope you enjoy the house and the neighborhood. Nice place to raise a family.”
Decker turned and walked off as Henderson drove away.
It had been stupid coming back here. He’d rattled the guy unnecessarily. And for what? He didn’t need to come here for a walk down memory lane. It was all in his head. Pristine. Forever.
And painfully so.
He retraced his steps and got to the hotel where he and Jamison were staying in time to see her exit the elevator and walk into the lobby.
“Christ, Decker, are you just getting in?” she said, eyeing his grungy, wet clothes.
“Good morning to you too. Would you like to get some breakfast?”
She followed him into the dining area off the lobby. They sat, ordered some food, and sipped their coffees.
“So?” said Jamison. “Was Susan Richards any help?”
“She didn’t cop to the murder if that’s what you’re asking. She doesn’t have a solid alibi. She was home asleep, she says.”
