The Last Mile (Amos Decker, #2)(123)

Bogart rubbed his chin nervously and then nodded at Mars. “Go ahead and do it. Like Decker said, I’m not sure what we have to lose at this point.”

Mars carefully typed the message onto his phone and his finger wavered over the send button. He looked first at Bogart and next Decker. He said, “He really did love her. He loved her enough to kill her.”

“And that’s what I’m counting on, Melvin. In fact, it’s all that I’m counting on.“

Mars pressed the send button and the text flew off.

Bogart drew a deep breath.

“Well, let’s hope to hell that this works. Because I don’t think we have a Plan B.”





CHAPTER

72



YOU’VE GOT BALLS. I’ll give you that.

The text came in at two o’clock in the morning three days later. The ping roused Mars, who’d only been half asleep. He rose, read the text twice, and then called Decker and read it to him.

They were now staying at a hotel in D.C. Decker was at Mars’s door in less than five minutes.

Mars looked at the fully dressed Decker. “Didn’t you even go to sleep?”

“I tried but I never really got there.”

“Me either.”

Decker looked at the text and then tapped the phone against his hand. “He’s intrigued and pissed. But I’d wager more intrigued than pissed.”

He typed in a message and held it up for Mars to see.

We can agree on that. So where do we go from here?

Mars nodded and Decker hit the send key.

They waited. And waited.

It was five in the morning before they got a response.

Decker said, “He doesn’t seem to sleep either.”

The message was terse:

You screw me on this you’re dead. And so is Decker. I’ll get back to you.

“I like a man who speaks his mind and doesn’t dance around the issues,” said Decker.

*



The next night the “get back to you” message came:

Tuscaloosa. Two nights from tonight. Midnight. Just you and Decker. Anybody else within five miles, I’m gone for good.

Tacked onto this was a street address.

Decker closed his eyes and let his mind whir to the correct spot. “That’s the location of the NAACP office that was bombed in sixty-eight.”

“You think he’ll meet us there?”

“I think he’s a very careful man.”

“He said just you and me.”

“And he clearly meant it.”

“What about Bogart and the FBI?”

“I’ll take Roy at his word. If they’re anywhere near, he’s gone, Melvin. And the case is over.”

“You know, we got Oliver and McClellan. Isn’t that enough?”

“Not for me. We’ve got a prick in Congress wielding incredible power and a billionaire who blew up a bunch of people, including kids. I’m not walking away from that.”

“Okay. I’m not either. How do we do this?”

“It won’t be easy getting away from Bogart, but it can be done. In fact, it has to be done.”

“When we get down there he might just kill us. Dude is crazy, Decker. I’ve seen that. And you’ve seen that.”

“If I had an alternative, Melvin, I’d go for it. But I don’t.”

“Okay, again, how do we do this?”

“We can’t fly or rent a car. That requires a credit card, and Bogart can easily check that.”

“What then?”

“I’ve got enough cash for a bus ride. You up for that?”

Mars looked at him and shook his head. “Buckeye and Longhorn on the same damn bus? How screwed up is that?”

*



It took two transfers and nearly twenty-four hours to get to Tuscaloosa from Washington. They wended their way through the “toe” of Virginia, passed into Tennessee, and nicked the top of Georgia before bisecting Alabama on a diagonal, zipping through Birmingham. They were scheduled to arrive in Tuscaloosa at seven in the evening.

They had both turned off their phones so that Bogart could not track them that way.

They slept off and on for a good chunk of the trip, two big men in seats that were too small for them. Decker had brought a bag of food and bottles of water.

They talked, watched the scenery pass, and then talked some more. The buses were pretty full, so they were forced to converse in low voices.

When they finally alighted from their third bus onto the streets of Tuscaloosa, both men stretched out their limbs to the maximum length.

“Reminds me of some trips we took playing football,” said Decker.

Mars looked at him funny. “Big-time program like OSU, you guys didn’t fly?”

“No, we did. I was talking about high school.”

“Yeah, right. Hey, try playing in Texas. We’d drive this far to a game and still be in the frickin’ state.”

Both of them looked around and then Decker checked his watch. “We got time to kill. How about we find a place to crash and then get some dinner?”

“Sounds good to me. I’m sick of granola bars and trail mix. I want a steak and some potatoes.”

“Blame Jamison. She’s trying to make a stick out of me.”