Redemption (Amos Decker #5)(16)

“Hey, it’s called cross-examination. We don’t have many arrows in our quiver, but that’s one of the prime ones. And the state has all the resources. I’m just one guy.”

“Keep telling yourself that. It’s a good day when the Internet works at the police station. My computer’s about fifteen years old. And I haven’t had a raise in eight years.”

He smiled impishly. “You can always come over to our side. Be an expert witness. Pays pretty well.”

She returned the look. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have a hard enough time sleeping as it is.”

“I sleep like a baby,” retorted Finger, grinning.

Decker looked over at the bookshelf where a bunch of files were stacked. “We need to see your records on the case.”

“Why?”

“Because there might be a clue in there as to who killed Hawkins.”

“The privilege still applies, Decker.”

Decker looked at the man. “Hawkins came to me and asked me to prove his innocence. He did the same to Mary.”

Finger glanced sharply at Lancaster, who nodded. “That was the only reason he was back in town. To tell me and Decker that we got it wrong and he wanted us to make it right. We went to the Residence Inn to meet with him to go over that. That’s when we found him dead.”

Decker said, “So it seems to me that by his words and actions, Hawkins has waived his privilege, because how else can we prove his innocence if we can’t look at your files?”

Finger sighed. “Well, you make a compelling argument, I’ll give you that. And I guess it couldn’t hurt at this point. But it’s been a long time. You think I still have that stuff?”

“Most attorneys I know never throw anything away,” replied Decker firmly.

“So you’re thinking he’s innocent now, after all this time?”

“Some people here thought I’d killed my family,” said Decker.

“I wasn’t one of them,” said Finger quickly.

Decker rose. “So let’s go get those files.”

“What, you mean now? They’re in storage probably.”

“Yeah, now.”

“But I’ve got to be in court in twenty minutes.”

“Then I’m sure your secretary can help us. Now.”

“What’s your rush?”

“After all these years, I’m not waiting on the truth one second longer than I have to,” replied Decker.





Chapter 9



“IT’S OVER HERE.”

They were in a climate-controlled storage unit. After consulting the iPad she was holding, Christine Burlin pointed to a shelf in the far back of the space.

“You seem very well organized,” said Lancaster appreciatively.

“Well, of course I am. Mr. Finger is not the best in that regard, so I have to make up for it. And I can assure you that I do.”

Lancaster whispered to Jamison, “She has four kids, the oldest is in eighth grade, and I think she still dresses them in Garanimals.”

There were only two boxes dealing with the case, Burlin told them. She made Lancaster sign an electronic receipt before she would allow them to take the containers. They trudged back to their cars with Decker schlepping both boxes.

Lancaster said, “You can take them back to the station. Captain Miller has arranged a room for you to use.”

“How is Captain Miller?” said Decker.

“Ready to retire,” said Lancaster. “But aren’t we all. I’ll meet you back there later.”

“Wait a minute, where are you going?” asked Decker.

“I have other cases to work,” she said incredulously. “And this one is not officially on my plate or even a case for the department.”

“But Hawkins’s murder is.”

“And we don’t know if it’s connected to what’s in those files. So, you go through them and let me know what you find out, if anything. And let me go about trying to solve some new crimes, like Hawkins’s murder.”

She got into her car and drove off. When Decker didn’t climb into their rental, Jamison paused, her hand on the car door. “What’s up?”

“That’s what I want to know: What’s up with Mary?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve known her a long time. She’s not telling me something.”

“Well, she has that right, Decker. But she might come around. And it’s nice that you’re worried about your old partner,” she added.

They drove to the police station and were directed to the room reserved for their use. As they were heading down the hall a man in his early sixties stepped out of an office.

Captain MacKenzie Miller was still short, wide, and puffy, with an unhealthy tint to his skin. But his smile was broad and infectious. “Look what they let in the door,” he said.

He put out his hand for Decker to shake. He nodded at Jamison and shook her hand too, then pointed to the badge on her jacket. “I heard. Congrats, Alex, I know that wasn’t easy.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

Decker eyed the man who had been his superior his entire time on the police force. Miller was a good cop, tough, fair, and he didn’t bullshit. He had actually stopped Decker from putting a bullet in his brain once. It would be impossible to dislike the man after that.