The Last Mile (Amos Decker, #2)(42)

“When did they start doing that?” he asked.

“After 9/11,” replied Decker.

“Oh, right.”

Mars pulled his gaze away from the front of the plane and said to Decker, “You said we were coming here for Mrs. Montgomery too.”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“She was the only one to visit her husband the last few years.”

“Okay, why does that matter?” asked Mars.

“If this was all set up, you’re not going to do it over the phone. It’s going to be face-to-face. She was the only face. She went to the prison and told her husband what he had to do. Including all the details, so he could get his story straight. She probably did this over and over to make sure it all sunk in.”

“So she had to have contact with whoever really killed my parents? She initiated this, not her husband.”

“That’s the way I see it, yes.”

“But she’s not just going to tell us who contacted her.”

“No, I don’t think she will,” replied Decker.

“So what do we do, then?”

“We find out as much as we can on our own and then we confront her with it.”

“And hope she rolls over?”

“Yes. You ever remember anything about the stuff I asked you about?”

Mars looked back out the window as the plane descended into Alabama. “I gave it a lot of thought. Only thing I really thought about, to tell the truth.”

“And?”

Mars pointed to the back of his right ear. “My dad had a scar right here. I saw it when I was a kid and we were horsing around on the floor, just roughhousing, you know. I touched it and asked him about it. He flew into a rage. I mean, I thought he was going to beat the shit out of me. Then my mom came in the room, saw what was happening, and calmed him down. After that, he was never really the same around me. And he started wearing his hair a lot longer.”

“To cover the scar?”

“That’s right. At least I think so.”

“Did you ever ask your mother about it?”

“No. I was too scared. I’d never seen my dad like that. I mean, he was scary.”

Decker stared at the seat back in front of him. “Did it look like a wound? Like from a gun or knife?”

“Not a gun. It was more like a long cut.”

“So a knife?”

“Yeah, that’s what I think. Look, I know it’s not much.”

“Well, it’s more than we had, Melvin. We just have to figure out what it means.”





CHAPTER

22



THURSDAY AT 5:30 p.m.

Charles Montgomery had a half hour left to live.

He had eaten his last meal from a vending machine.

A barbecue sandwich and a can of Coke.

His stomach would not have to digest the meal.

Bogart, Decker, and Mars were sitting in the front row of one of the viewing rooms. Jamison had elected not to come. Davenport was immediately behind Decker in the second row. There were three other people in the room. Two were journalists and one was with the Alabama State Bar. None of the families of the victims had come except for Mars.

The journalists had recognized Mars and had tried to interview him, but Bogart had flashed his badge and quickly put a stop to that.

The curtains were pulled so that the death chamber was not currently visible. In an adjacent room the family of the condemned was allowed to sit. The curtains were also closed there, so they didn’t know if Regina Montgomery was here or not.

Mars was looking nervous and there were beads of sweat on his face although the room was cool.

Decker noted this and put a large hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You gonna hold it together? Or you want to get out of here?”

Mars bent over and took several deep breaths. “I was just thinking how close I came to this.”

Decker removed his hand. “But it’s not you, Melvin. It’s the other guy. But we can leave if you want.”

Mars straightened. “No, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Bogart leaned over and said, “They’re coming.”

A dozen correctional officers surrounded Montgomery as he left the holding cell where he had been brought the previous Tuesday. They were led to the death chamber by a pastor holding a Bible and saying a prayer. A hymn was being played over the sound system.

The gurney had been removed from the chamber and the electric chair had been brought out of storage. Nicknamed “Yellow Mama,” because its color came from the yellow paint used on highway lines, it had been built by a British inmate in the 1920s. It was massive and sturdy-looking.

His head bowed, the pastor peeled away and went to the viewing area where Decker and the others were. He took his seat at the end of the row and began reading his Bible.

The correctional officers escorted Montgomery into the chamber. Then the curtains were opened so that Montgomery could see into the visitor rooms.

Decker and the others now saw that Regina Montgomery was indeed in attendance. Her son was not with her.

Montgomery’s gaze lingered on his wife for a few moments but no words were said or even mouthed between them. Finally, Regina looked away.