The Last Mile (Amos Decker, #2)(38)

Tommy broke into a broad grin. “Damn, man, thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You got any scholarship offers?”

“I’ve been starting since my freshman year. I’ll be a senior next year and I’ve already got three offers, two from D-ones and one from a D-two.”

“That’s great. Good for you. Look, we talked to your mom. About her future. After your dad…” Decker let his voice trail off and he stared expectantly at Tommy.

“Yeah.”

“And then you’ll be off in a year. I hope she’ll be able to make ends meet.”

“Oh, she’ll be okay. With the money and all.”

Bogart started to say something, but Decker said, “Right, the money. She started to tell us about that, but then she had to go to work.”

“Yeah, it’s a lot. Enough for her to be okay.”

“That’s what she said. Do you know from where?”

“Insurance. My scumball father had a life insurance policy. Go figure.”

“And it pays off even if he’s to be executed?” asked Bogart.

“Yeah. I mean, that’s what Mom said.”

“So a lot of money,” said Decker. “Do you know how much?”

“Not exactly, no. But she said she’d be moving away from here after I graduate and then settle down wherever I go to college. She’s going to buy a place and not have to work.” He paused. “I mean, she’s always been there for me, you know. Most guys probably don’t want their moms around when they’re at college, but…it’s been rough, you know and she’s…you know what I mean?” he finished looking a little embarrassed.

“I know exactly what you mean,” said Decker. “Good luck with your ballplaying.” He tapped his temple. “And never lead with your head. It’s not worth it.”

They left Tommy there and walked back out to the car.

“How did you know, Decker?” said Davenport.

“Know what?”

“That Regina Montgomery was coming into money?”

“I didn’t know until he told me. But I suspected it.”

“But why did you suspect it?” asked Bogart.

“Because dead people have absolutely no use for cash.”





CHAPTER

20



CHARLES MONTGOMERY WAS in court today in Alabama and gave an allocution to the judge that he killed your parents.”

Decker tapped his hand on the arm of his chair as he sat looking at Melvin Mars, who was finishing a full week of rehab at a facility attached to the hospital.

Mars looked pretty much normal. The swelling was gone, along with the soreness. The docs had given him a clean bill of health. He was to be released the following day.

Mars put down the weights he had been lifting and toweled off his face.

“So what does that mean exactly?”

“It’s a formal statement under oath that what he said is true. It included specific details about the murders of your parents.”

“And the court accepted it?”

Decker nodded.

He had come here today by himself. He wanted some time alone with Mars.

“So what now?”

Decker said, “That statement has been forwarded to the court here in Texas that has jurisdiction over your case. The court will review it and then make a determination.”

“What about the people who actually prosecuted me?”

“They’ve retired. But the state lawyers are in the loop and they are also considering everything. If they come down on the side of believing Montgomery and throw their support to you, then I don’t think the court has any choice but to set you free. Pretty much immediately.”

Mars wrapped the towel around his neck, his muscles straining against the tight T-shirt, and sat down opposite Decker.

“How long you reckon all that will take?”

“I can’t imagine that long.”

“What was he like?” Mars asked quietly.

“Who, Montgomery?”

Mars nodded, his gaze on the floor.

“Probably like a lot of guys you’ve known in prison.”

“So just a screwed-up asshole looking to hurt people?”

“He was a Vietnam vet. Said stuff over there gave him headaches. Couldn’t take the pain. Turned to crime to pay for the drugs because the VA wouldn’t help him.”

“But why’d he kill my parents?”

“You really want to hear this? It can’t change anything.”

Mars glanced up at him. “Tell me.”

“Wrong place, wrong time. Montgomery tried to pawn stuff at your dad’s shop. He said your dad wasn’t buying, maybe dissed him. He got pissed, followed him home, wanted money, but your dad told him he was only the clerk there, that the owner put the money in the bank every night. So…he did what he did, using your shotgun he found in your room. And that gas can in the garage.”

Mars studied the floor. “And you believe him?”

“He had details only the person there would’ve known.”

Mars looked up again. “But do you believe he did it?”

Decker said nothing.

“So you don’t believe him, then?”