The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(47)

Jamison said, “So maybe Baron does know about it. Maybe he feeds him and lets him use the facilities in the house.”

“So he’s feeding a druggie and allowing the guy to stay in the old potting shed. Why?”

“Baron is sort of down and out too. Maybe he feels sorry for the guy.”

Decker shook his head. “I could better understand that if Baron were rolling in dough, which he’s not. And apparently everybody in town hates him.”

“Maybe this guy isn’t from Baronville.”

“If so, how did he come to be here? You wouldn’t look at this place from a distance and be able to see that it was run-down. And how could he know only one person lived here? Or that there were outbuildings where he could stay?”

“He might have talked to some people in Baronville and learned all that.”

“I wonder where this guy is now?” He looked at the drugs and the accompanying paraphernalia. “And why leave this here? Most druggies I ran into when I was a cop would never leave their stash behind.”

He picked up one of the plastic baggies. “Nickel bag of coke. About a gram’s worth. These vials are probably heroin. Three to four bucks a pop in a metro area. Maybe more in a place like this. The elastic band is used to pulse the vein for the injection site. The lighter and the spoon are to make crack from the cocaine. Water and a pinch of baking soda. You stir off the residue, then you smoke the liquid coke in the pipe.” He looked closely at the three syringes. “Never seen three needles for one druggie, though.”

“Maybe he’s trying to avoid infections.”

“You mostly get that if you’re sharing needles with someone else.”

After a thorough search they turned up a few more items: a bottle of antiseptic wipes, two cell phones, a list of phone numbers written out on paper. And, cleverly hidden behind a cut-out panel under the sink where the pipes went into the wall, they found the pot of gold.

Or drugs, rather.

Fifty baggies of powdered coke, twenty vials of liquid heroin, and ten rocks of crack, along with a roll of cash rubber-banded together, and a loaded Sig Sauer nine-millimeter with the serial numbers filed off.

“Decker, this guy’s not a user. He’s a dealer.”

Decker didn’t answer because he was staring at something on the floor.

Jamison looked at the spot. “It’s a narrow line in the dust,” she said. “Like something was dragged over it.”

Decker got down on his knees to examine the mark more closely.

He stood and looked at Jamison. “What do you want to bet the person staying here won’t be coming back?”

“What do you mean?”

“That mark isn’t from something being dragged over the floor. It’s from a bike tire. I think we just found Michael Swanson’s final place of residence.”





Chapter 29



THEY HAD TAKEN photos of what they had discovered in the potting shed and then put everything back. Since they had no warrant, anything they found would not be admissible in court if it ever came to that.

They drove off and wound their way back down the hill to Baronville.

“Do we tell Green and Lassiter what we found?” asked Jamison as she steered the vehicle.

Decker shook his head. “No, they’d be pissed about what we did, and there’s no need to fight that battle right now. And we have no idea if that stuff really belongs to Swanson. It’s just a hunch. But his old landlord did say he rode a bike.”

“Long ride up here and back.”

“Hey, if it’s the only wheels you have?”

“So where does that lead us?”

“To the possibility that John Baron is lying to us. He says he didn’t know Costa; I’m convinced he did.”

“Come on, Decker, lots of businesses sponsor Little League teams. You can’t expect a bank bigwig to know all the coaches.”

“Granted. But I wouldn’t expect a bigwig to keep a photo of the team at his house either. And it’s not like Baronville National Bank is Goldman Sachs or Citibank. Everybody probably knows everybody else. And if that stuff does or did belong to Swanson, then that means that Baron possibly knew two of the four victims. And Costa’s secretary said the bank holds the mortgage on this place. For all we know, Costa is the point of contact for Baron.”

“We could ask for alibis from him.”

Decker shook his head. “I don’t want to go there with him, not yet. He’s cagey. And he apparently is alone a lot of the time, so what sort of alibi could he reasonably provide for two sets of murders?”

Jamison glanced at the truck’s clock. “Oh no, we’re going to be late.”

Decker glanced at her. “For what?”

“Zoe’s birthday dinner.”

“Do we have to go?”

She looked at him, dumbstruck. “I’m the one who’s taking them to dinner, Decker. It’s at the nicest restaurant in town. You knew about this. It’s one of the reasons we’re visiting them now. To celebrate Zoe’s sixth birthday. I have her presents in the back of the truck at least, so we don’t have to go back to the house.”

“But we’re in the middle of an investigation.”

“And we’ve been working on it all day. And we have to eat. So we’re going to the dinner.”