The Last Mile (Amos Decker, #2)(125)

“We drive west on this road and then we’re eventually going to get on Route 82 and take it west. Then there’re directions from there.”

They drove for a while, got on and then off Route 82.

“Looks like we’re heading into the boonies,” said Decker.

“We’re already in the boonies, Decker,” retorted Mars. “Look around, there’s nothing.” He started to look nervous. “You think he’s going to ambush us? Kill us?”

“If he wanted to do that he’s had ample opportunity, Melvin.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Well, I might not be. Like you said, the dude’s a psycho.”

“Thanks for the good thoughts.”

Decker kept checking the rearview mirror. “He said he had eyes on us, but I don’t see anyone back there.”

“Maybe he was bluffing.”

“He didn’t strike me as a bluffer.”

Mars looked back too. “They could be driving with their lights off.”

“Maybe.”

Mars directed him to three more turns, and they finally ended at a tumbledown house set well off the road and that didn’t have a neighbor for about a mile.

“Well, this is about as lonely and creepy as it gets,” noted Mars as they pulled to a stop in front.

Decker said, “I don’t see another car.”

A second later from the side of the house a pair of car lights flashed on and then off.

Decker and Mars climbed out of the car.

The car door on the other vehicle opened and there stood Roy Mars.

As he stepped forward into the moonlight they could see he was dressed in faded dungarees, an overcoat, flannel shirt, and work boots. The gun he held in his right hand was large and pointed at them.

Decker stepped forward and said, “I don’t think there’s a need for that.”

“How about the gun in your waistband, Decker? I can see the bulge from here. Even with your big gut.”

“It’s not as big as it used to be.”

“Congratulations. Pull it out muzzle first.”

Decker did so and handed it across to Roy.

“Inside,” Roy said.

He followed them in.

The room was small and smelled of mildew and rot. Roy stepped past them and turned a knob on a camp lantern that sat on an overturned packing crate. The room was instantly illuminated, the light throwing shadows across the space.

Roy tucked Decker’s gun in his pocket and leaned back against the wall. “So, you got the skirt back.”

“And how did you hear about Davenport?” asked Decker.

“I didn’t. It was a deduction based on the reports of Sheriff Roger McClellan getting blown away at his old man’s farm outside Cain. It said nothing of any dead woman. So, you got her back?”

“Yes.”

“Mac’s dead. So you got what you came for. So why dial me up?”

“There are still two more unaccounted for,” said Decker. “That’s why.”

“You can’t expect to get everything you want in life. Doesn’t work that way. Just ask Mellow here.”

“Then why did you agree to meet with us?” asked Mars.

“Curiosity got the better of me, I guess.”

“I think it’s more than that,” said Decker. “You were once part of the team, maybe the unofficial fourth Musketeer, but then you turned against them.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

In answer Decker took out the page he had earlier torn from the yearbook back at Cain High School.

“You’re the fourth from the left, Aaron Callahan.”

“What?” exclaimed Mars, staring at the page.

“Roy Mars is actually Aaron Callahan. You’ve changed, of course, Roy, but it’s easy to see that it’s you and that you went to Cain High with the Three Musketeers.”

“That’s good, Decker. How’d you figure that out?”

“We found two sets of initials on the inside of your bedroom closet back in Texas. AC and RB. I ripped those pages out of the class pictures in the yearbook that had the last names beginning with ‘C’ and ‘B.’ Didn’t recognize anyone with the last name beginning with ‘B’ as you. But I did with ‘C.’ So RB must’ve been the initials for Lucinda’s real name.”

“Roxanne Barrett.” Roy looked at Mars. “That was your mother’s real name. But she liked Lucinda better.”

“How did you pick Mars as your last name?” asked Decker.

Roy grinned. “Always liked the red planet, even when I was a kid. Seemed cool.”

Decker nodded. “You were on the football team with them. Left tackle, which means you guarded Huey’s blindside. He was the QB.”

“Guy was a mediocre signal caller that we made look good. McClellan was a rabid dog fullback and safety on the D-side. The kind who’d take a bite out of your leg in a pileup. Eastland was the slick scatback. Never went over the middle on pass routes, and on running plays he’d always run out of bounds before he got nailed. Prick didn’t like to get hit. A real pussy. But he was good-looking and smart and came from money and he was obviously going places, so the girls dropped their panties when he showed up anywhere. He and Thurman. But that was because of the old man. He was the big dog in Mississippi. Everybody knew him.”