The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(2)

The second result of the hit was his developing synesthesia. He associated odd things, like death, with a color. In the case of death, it was a visceral electric blue that could raise the hairs on the back of Decker’s neck and make him feel sick to his stomach.

Along with his brain change, his personality had been transformed. The gregarious fun-loving prankster had forever vanished, and in its place—

—Is me.

With his football career irreversibly over, he had gone on to become a cop and then a homicide detective in his hometown of Burlington, Ohio. He had been married to a wonderful woman named Cassandra, or Cassie as he always called her, and they had had a beautiful child named Molly.

Had.

It was all past tense, because he no longer had a wonderful wife or a beautiful child.

Who killed you?

Who murdered you?

Well, Decker had figured out who had taken his family from him. And the person had paid the ultimate price.

Yet it was nothing in comparison to the price that Decker had paid. That he would pay every minute until he drew his last breath.

“Aunt Alex says you can’t forget anything.”

Decker turned from these musings to the source of the query.

Zoe Mitchell, twin blonde ponytails, long-sleeved pink shirt with flowers on it, and white shorts showing off dimpled knees, stared curiously at him across the width of the wooden deck attached to the back of her house.

“My memory’s pretty good, yeah,” said Decker.

Zoe held up a sheet of paper. On it were about a dozen very long numbers. She passed it to him.

“Can you remember all these?” she asked hopefully.

Decker glanced at it and then handed the paper back to her.

“Does that mean you can’t remember them?” said Zoe, the disappointment clear on her freckled face.

“No, it means that I already did.”

He recited the numbers back to her, in the same order they appeared on the page, because that’s what he saw in his head: the page of numbers.

She broke into a toothy grin. “That is so cool.”

“You think so?” said Decker.

Her pale blue eyes widened at his remark. “Don’t you?”

“Sometimes, yeah. It can be cool.”

He leaned against the deck railing and sipped his beer while Zoe watched him.

“Aunt Alex says you catch bad people.”

“We do it together. She’s got good instincts.”

Zoe looked puzzled by his response.

He explained, “She reads people really well. And she sees things that others don’t.”

“She’s my favorite aunt.”

“How many aunts do you have?”

She sighed. “A lot. None of them are as cool as Aunt Alex.” Zoe brightened. “She came to visit because my birthday is almost here. I’m turning six.”

“I know. She told me we’re all going out to dinner for it.”

Decker looked around awkwardly as Zoe continued to watch him.

“You’re really, really big,” she observed.

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“You won’t let any of the bad people hurt Aunt Alex, will you?” she asked, her features and tone suddenly turning anxious.

Decker had been about to take a sip of beer. He slowly lowered the bottle. “No, I won’t. I mean, I’ll do my best never to let that happen,” he added a bit lamely.

There was a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

“I guess a storm is coming,” observed Decker quickly, looking for any way to change the subject.

He glanced at Zoe to find her innocent gaze still uncomfortably on him. He looked away as another guttural growl of thunder was heard.

Summer was over, but the thunderstorms often accompanying the segue into fall appeared to be bearing down on them.

“Definitely getting closer,” said Decker, more to himself than to Zoe.

He looked at the rear yard of the house that backed up to Zoe’s. It seemed an exact copy. Same footprint, same wooden deck off the back. Same patch of yard. Same type of maple smack in the middle of the wilting grass.

But there was one difference.

The lights in the other house were flickering now. On, then off. On, then off.

Decker looked to the sky. Despite the rumbles of thunder, there wasn’t any lightning yet, at least that he could see. Also, the temperature had dropped some, and there was a low fog building that, along with the gathering clouds, obscured the sky even more.

A few moments later, he saw the reflection of red lights zip by overhead. He couldn’t see the plane, but it was no doubt trying to make it in or out before the storm hit full force, he thought.

He glanced back at the house and watched the lights going on and off, almost like Morse code. It might be the humidity, he thought. Damp wiring could cause flickering.

He heard a noise somewhere. Then he heard it again. And another time. The same sound over and over. It was two distinct sounds, actually, one a solid thud and the other like something scraping against something.

Then a car started up. It had to be on the street that fronted the house he was looking at, he concluded. They’d be driving right into the gathering storm.

A few minutes passed and then came the initial lightning spear. It seemed to disappear right into the earth directly in front of him. It was followed by a much louder boom of thunder. The sky was growing increasingly black and ominous. The winds were pushing the system swiftly across the area.