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Chapter60
“HOW’S IT GOINGdown there?” Alex Jamison asked.
It was the next evening and Decker was in his room at the Residence Inn, on his phone.
“It’s going. How about you?”
“Long road ahead, I’m afraid. Not making much headway. Bogart is missing your horsepower.”
“Did he say that?”
“I can tell.”
“He laid down the law to me when we last spoke. I’m not sure I’ll have a place on the task force when I’m done here.” He said this in part to get it off his chest, but also to get Jamison’s reaction.
“I’m not sure about that either, Decker.”
His spirits plunged. It had occurred to him that he did want to go back to the FBI after this was over. Now that might not be possible.
“I guess I can see that,” he said.
“Look, if it were up to Bogart, I think you’d be okay. But he’s got bosses too. And they know you’re still in Burlington despite orders to the contrary. And they’re not happy about it. Bogart went out on a limb for you, Decker, on a number of occasions. He shielded you from heat from the higher-ups. Now, we all know what you’ve done for the Bureau, and the number of lives you’ve saved in the past. But that will not always save you, I guess is what I’m saying.”
“Thanks for your candor, Alex. I appreciate it.”
“I’d expect the same from you if our positions were reversed.”
“Not to change the subject, but if I send you a list of companies, could you find time to check them out?”
“Decker! Are you kidding me?”
“I know, Alex. I know. But it’s really important.”
“And what I’m currently doing isn’t?”
“No, I didn’t mean it that way. Only we don’t have the resources that the FBI does.”
There was such a pregnant pause that he thought she might have hung up on him. Then, finally, “Email them to me and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Alex, I appreciate it.”
He sent her the names of the companies and then lay down on his bed. The wind was picking up outside, which probably meant another storm was coming. Since it was getting colder, they might get some sleet or a dusting of snow with it.
Decker wrapped himself more tightly in his coat because the Residence Inn didn’t have the best heating system in the world. It was like it only had the capacity to push heat a certain distance into the hotel before giving up and letting the majority of the unfortunate guests fend for themselves.
He didn’t miss the Ohio winters. The East Coast had its share of cold weather, for sure. But there was nothing to stop the wind here; it beat relentlessly across the land.
But still, this was his hometown, his home state. He had played for the mighty Buckeyes and then, albeit briefly, the Cleveland Browns. He was a product of the Midwest. He never got too high and never got too low. He looked at the world realistically. He was a jeans and beer kind of guy. He could never fit inside a Ferrari, not that he would ever want to. He always tried to do the right thing. He helped others when they needed it.
And he tracked down killers nonstop.
And that was pretty much the sum total of Amos Decker.
He lifted his hands from his pockets and rubbed his temples. He scrunched his eyes closed. Something was funny up there. He felt a pang of anxiety start up from deep within him. He lurched up and went into the bathroom and drank handfuls of water in an effort to calm himself down.
He tried to push back visions of volcanic masses of memory loops cascading down on him, but he was powerless to stop his own mind from tormenting him.
He lay back on the bed, shuddered once as though he might be sick, and then drew a long, deep breath. With that one physical machination, the anxiety left him.
