Redemption (Amos Decker #5)(21)

Decker pointed to the man’s forearms. “They’re healed now, of course, but that’s where the scratches were, presumably from Abigail Richards trying to fight him off.”

Lancaster added, “After he was arrested and jailed, we noted the wounds on his arms. Hawkins said he’d fallen down and scraped both arms. He’d cleaned them up and bandaged them before he was arrested. If any of Abigail Richards’s DNA was on him, that probably would’ve removed it. In fact, we found none. But we did find his DNA on her.”

Jamison said, “And that seems to be rock-solid evidence of his guilt. I mean, he was there. She tried to fight him off. He was good for the murders.”

“Yeah,” said Decker. “And all we have against that is a guy who said he was innocent and now he’s dead.”

Lancaster said, “Do you think it could be that Hawkins did commit the murders but wasn’t alone? He had an accomplice and now that accomplice killed him before he could reveal his identity?”

“He’s had thirteen years to do that,” pointed out Decker. “And you’d think Hawkins would have fingered an accomplice at his trial, if for no other reason than to cut a deal. And there’s something else.” He told Lancaster about his rain theory. He added, “Rain residue and other trace from the storm should have been found at the crime scene but wasn’t.”

Lancaster seemed taken aback by this. “I…I never focused on that.”

“Neither did I, until now.”

“Crap, Decker.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s that on his forearm?” asked Jamison.

The ME, a short, balding man in his fifties, pulled an overhead lamp on a long flex arm closer and turned it on, hitting that spot.

“Yes, I noted that,” he said. “Let’s take a closer look.”

The marks on Hawkins’s arm were black and dark green and brown. A casual observer might have concluded that they were bruises. Only they weren’t. Closer inspection under the intense light revealed clearly what they were.

“It’s a tattoo,” said Decker. “Or several tattoos.”

“That’s what I concluded too,” said the ME. “But poorly done ones. I mean, my daughter has one and it’s far nicer than these.”

Decker opined, “That’s because these were done in prison with very crude instruments and whatever they could find to use as ink.”

“How do you know it wasn’t done before he went to prison?” asked Jamison.

“Because I saw his forearms thirteen years ago. Several times. No tats.” Decker leaned down and looked at the marks from a few inches away. “Looks like they used paper clips or maybe staples. That tat looks like they used soot mixed with shampoo for the ink. The other two seem to be Styrofoam that’s been melted. Those are pretty popular choices for inmate tats.”

“Didn’t know you were such an expert on prison tattoos,” said Jamison.

“Decker and I have visited our share of prisons over the years,” noted Lancaster. “Seen a lot of convict skin with body art. Some cool, some hideous.”

Decker was still looking at the tat. “It’s a spiderweb.”

“Trapped,” said Lancaster.

“What?” asked Jamison.

“Symbolizes being trapped in prison,” explained Decker. “It’s referring to their prison sentence.”

“That looks like a teardrop,” observed Jamison, pointing to the mark near the crook of the elbow.

Decker nodded. “Right, it is.”

“What does that mean?”

Lancaster and Decker exchanged a glance. He said in a subdued tone, “Sometimes, it denotes that the person has been raped in prison. Usually it’s inked on the face, where everyone can see it.”

“Damn,” said Jamison.

Decker closed his eyes and felt sick to his stomach.

And I helped put you there because maybe I didn’t do a thorough enough investigation.

Jamison was watching Decker and put a hand on his arm. His eyes popped open and he abruptly moved away from her. He didn’t notice her hurt look at his reaction.

Lancaster examined the last mark that was to the right of the teardrop. “I’ve never seen one like that before, though,” she said.

“Looks like a star with an arrow going through it,” said Jamison. She looked at Decker. “Any ideas?”

“Not yet,” he replied. He looked at the ME. “How far along was his cancer?”

The ME shuddered. “Advanced. If the bullet didn’t get him, my guess is he had a few weeks left. Actually, I’m surprised he was still able to function.”

“He said he was on street meds,” said Jamison.

“The tox screens will show what was in his system. He had nothing in his stomach, no food or anything, I mean. I would imagine his appetite would have been negligible at that point. But he must have been a strong man to keep going with that level of cancer in him.”

Decker said, “Well, maybe wanting to prove his innocence gave him that strength.”

“Anything else of interest?” asked Lancaster.

“We’ve got his clothes over there in those evidence bags.”

Lancaster looked at Decker. “He also had a small duffel. We’ve got it at the station. Nothing much in it, but you’ll probably want to go through it.”