The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(55)

Four shots were fired instantly.

Four suppressed shots. The bullets hit the floor and ricocheted off.

Though he hadn’t been hit, Decker let out a yell as though he had so the other guy would let down his guard.

A moment later, he fired half his mag up the stairs in an arc wide enough to cover the entire width of the doorway.

He heard an impact, and then another, and then a grunt.

He stepped out of the way as something came rolling down the steps and landed in a heap at the bottom.

Decker retrieved his phone and shone the light on the bundle.

It was a man.

A dead man now, thanks to Decker.

As he stared down at the corpse, Decker felt himself audibly gasp.

Normally, when he was confronted by death, Decker’s synesthesia would kick in. The hairs on his neck would rise, as though an electrical current was running through him, he would feel dizzy and nauseous, and, most significantly, he would see the most vivid shade of electric blue. It would assail him from all angles, suffocating him.

Yet he wasn’t experiencing any of those things. He just saw a body.

It was as though his synesthesia had simply vanished.

And then he heard the sirens.

And then heavy feet clattering on the front porch.

Agent Jenkins from next door, he was certain.

The cavalry was here.

Decker slumped down on the bottom step and waited.





Chapter 33



OKAY, YOU NEED to stop going out at night, and I damn well mean it!”

These words came from Jamison, who was standing in front of Decker in a long T-shirt and sweatpants. She was barefoot, and her matted hair evidenced that until very recently she had been asleep.

They were in the living room of the Mitchells’ home. Amber and Zoe were still asleep upstairs.

Decker had called Jamison from the basement of the house where he’d shot and killed a man.

He had explained matters to the first responders and then to Kemper, and finally to Green and Lassiter when they had shown up, including how he had gotten there in the first place.

The real surprise had come when Kemper had seen the dead man lying on the floor with two of Decker’s bullets in his chest.

“That’s Brian Collins,” she had said.

“And who is he?” Decker had replied.

“He’s a drug dealer.”

“Do you think he knew Michael Swanson or maybe worked with him?”

“Doubtful. Collins was a heavy hitter. He’s wanted in several states for distribution and murder.”

Green had asked, “But what was he doing here? And why try to kill you?”

“He must have seen me go into the house,” said Decker. “He might have been watching the place.”

“Okay, but why take a chance on going after you when a DEA agent is right next door?” asked Green.

“I take that as a good sign,” said Decker. “That means they’re afraid we’re getting closer. Like when they tried to toast me and Jamison inside Toby Babbot’s trailer.”

“So, are you getting closer?” Green had asked.

Decker had looked down at the body. “Maybe too close.”

Now Decker looked up at the very pissed-off Jamison. “I didn’t know anything like this was going to happen, Alex. I just couldn’t sleep and decided to check some things out. I talked to Martin and that led me to the house.”

Jamison slumped down next to him. “Decker, I know you may not get this, but my sister and my niece just received horrible news. Frank is dead. This is going to affect them for the rest of their lives.”

“I know all that, Alex.”

“I know you know the facts. But sometimes you miss the stuff beyond the facts.”

“What exactly is your point?”

“One tragedy is enough right now. Please don’t add yourself to that tally. I don’t think any of us could take that. I know I couldn’t. Now, unless you’re going to do something else incredibly dangerous and stupid, I’m going to bed before my head explodes. I suggest you do the same.”

She trudged off upstairs and Decker slowly followed.

He washed up and undressed.

He glanced down at the hand that had pulled the trigger that had ended Brian Collins’s life. He didn’t feel bad about that. Collins had tried to murder him, so he got what he deserved.

Which still did not explain why a man he didn’t know had tried to kill him tonight.

A heavy-hitter drug dealer. Wanted in several states.

The DEA.

Rogue agents.

Six murders, four of which seemed to involve unrelated parties.

Was it all about drugs? Lots of people had died due to drugs. And by all accounts, Baronville was in the grips of the same opioid crisis that was terrorizing other areas of the country.

And he and Jamison had apparently run smack into it.

And what about Lassiter’s father burning down a banker’s house and going to prison for it and then dying there? And her mother later committing suicide? He could see now why Lassiter had a beef against the current John Baron, unreasonable as it might be.

And lastly, what the hell was happening in his head? Why hadn’t the electric blue color come? And the nausea and the hairs rising off his neck? It wasn’t like he wanted any of those things to happen to him. But at least they were predictable. That they no longer occurred was, in his mind, worse than if they still happened to him.