Long Shadows (Amos Decker, #7)(36)

But little by little, she had gained confidence, and come out of hiding. She’d held hands with Donald and had her picture taken with Mickey. Cassie had tears in her eyes, and even Decker, who didn’t get any of this at all, picked his daughter up so she could kiss the tall Goofy.

It was a wonderful, if overpriced, trip, and it also felt like a million years ago. And in most respects, it was.

He snagged a shell and looked at it. It was white and gray and cracked and felt fragile in his huge hand.

So, what are you going to do, Decker? You got some dead bodies and a load of stuff to look at, most of which is total bullshit. There will be junk popping up that doesn’t make any sense but I will have to make sense out of it. If I can. And I don’t know if I can. Or if I even want to. And those are two big ifs.

He rose and kept walking.

Out over the waves he conjured images of people who had been important in his life. Unlike his wife and daughter, they were all alive.

There was Melvin Mars, once on death row and now leading a wonderful life with a woman he loved. There was Ross Bogart, now retired, but with whom Decker had solved dozens of cases. And out beyond them both was a young woman who was once a journalist back in Burlington, Ohio, and now was a full-fledged FBI agent, kicking ass and doing good.

He took out his phone and hit speed dial, hoping she would answer.

Alex Jamison did, on the very first ring.

“I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to call me,” she said.

“I’m sorry for calling in the middle of the night.”

“I’m in a car pulling graveyard-shift surveillance, and I can think of no one else I’d rather talk to than you. So, how is it going with your new partner?”

“It’s going, but not well.”

“Did you expect otherwise? You are Amos Decker, after all.”

He found himself smiling at this remark. “I keep being reminded of that every day. Pretty sure it’s not a good thing.”

“She’s a fine agent, Decker. Really sharp. She’s got more experience than me. And she’s been through a lot worse than I have.”

“I know. She told me.”

“She might have told you some things, not all.”

“You sound like you’re closer than ‘Freddie’ let on.”

“Many female FBI agents are close, if not for real, at least in spirit. There aren’t that many of us, at least in proportion to the guys.”

“Is this where you tell me I have to give her a chance?” he said dully.

“No. This is where I tell you that you have to give yourself a chance. Freddie will be good, Decker, with or without you. I’m not worried about her. But I am worried about you.”

“Because of Mary?”

“Because of lots of things.”

“I…I got a letter from the Cognitive Institute. After my annual checkup there.”

“And what did it say?”

“It said a lot of things.”

“Bad things?”

“Not so good.”

“Is it manageable?”

“They don’t know, so neither do I.”

“I’m sorry, Amos,” she said, her voice suddenly splintering with emotion.

Decker shrugged at the waves and her remark. “It’s not unexpected. Have to pay the piper at some point.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re flesh and blood. You feel things. More than most.”

“The thing is, this case down here…it’s complicated.”

“Are any of them not?”

“I mean, really complicated. And I’m not certain…that I’m up to it.”

Jamison said nothing for so long that Decker thought he had lost the connection.

“I have to admit, that one surprised me. You always somehow manage to.”

“Not my intent.”

“Let’s get something straight. I don’t care how complicated the case is, you’re up to it, if you want to be.”

“And therein lies the rub,” said Decker.

“You once told me that without your work, you had nothing.”

“Which is pitiful in and of itself, I know.”

“I didn’t tell you that back then, and I’m not telling you that now. You don’t make widgets for a living. You find justice in this fucked-up world we all live in. You give the dead a voice. You hold guilty people accountable.”

“I used to think that. Now I believe I was just chasing something I’ll never catch.”

“You never used to believe that. I lost count of the number of times you told me that the only thing that matters is that when someone does something bad, they cannot be allowed to get away with it. Nothing else mattered, you said, if we let that slide. Because that one thing dictates the sort of world we will all live in. I know you remember that, even without a perfect memory.”

“Stop saying that, Alex, because nothing about it, not one goddamn thing, is perfect.”

“Which makes you just like everybody else. Look, I don’t know what was in the letter from the Institute and you don’t have to tell me. But if it is the worst, then you need to decide what you want to do. You’re the only one who can answer that question.”

“I…I need you, Alex.”