The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(64)

“I saw in the yearbook that she taught Bible school. And that you were into Greek mythology.”

“I barely remember any of that. It was a long time ago.”

“Still into mythology?”

“I have a hard enough time dealing with real life.”

“So, what happened with Joyce after she graduated from here?”

“I dropped out of her life because of my own problems. About four years after graduation she married a guy named Rick Tanner and she had a couple of miscarriages. He was a jerk, he drank too much and beat her up. They finally got divorced. By then, she was a totally different person. No confidence, no ambition. She got into drugs. She got a series of lower-and lower-paying jobs, injured herself at one of them, and got hooked on painkillers like a lot of people in this place.”

“You seem to know a lot about her. Did you two keep in touch?”

“We were still friends. Neither of our lives turned out as expected. That worked to bring us together, I guess, especially after she was divorced.”

“Ever think about getting back together?”

Baron shook his head. “If I married someone, I would like to be able to help support them. I’ve got nothing. And why would I subject Joyce to all the crap I deal with? Making her a Baron? Worst thing I could do to her. When I thought I would have some money, my plan was to move away and we could have had a life where nobody cared what my last name was. I was going to be a big league pitcher, start my own business. Be successful off my own efforts. That didn’t pan out, obviously. But we did keep in touch.”

“She was laid off from JC Penney some months before her death.”

“I know. Not the future one would have expected for the homecoming queen. But Joyce was also a member of the honor society and also excelled at math. She was no dummy. She could have had a far different life. I wish she had.”

“What about you? You weren’t the homecoming king. You got voted best athlete in the entire state and you’re not even team captain of your high school squads?”

“We live in a democracy, Agent Decker. One person, one vote. It’s inviolate.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s right if people are voting for the wrong reasons.”

“Happens every two, four, and six years in this country. And I didn’t care about being homecoming king or team captain. I really didn’t.”

“But you did care about Joyce. Is that why you were supporting her all these years?”

Baron looked at him shrewdly, but said nothing in reply.

Decker continued. “She had no job, but she could pay her rent. She had a car. She put food on the table. And you said she was addicted to painkillers. That’s not cheap either.”

“Okay, I gave her some money.”

“I thought you didn’t have any.”

“I don’t have a lot of money. But I have some. I don’t actually nap all day. I do work. I do have an income. And I have family heirlooms that I can sell in a pinch. I spend virtually nothing on myself. So I could help her. And I wanted to.”

“That was nice of you.”

“She deserved it. And for the record, she used to be a pain pill addict. She wasn’t any longer. She kicked it. It was damn hard, but she did it.”

“Did you help with that too?”

“Why does that matter to you?”

“In an investigation, you try your best to get a full picture of what you’re seeing. Those sorts of details round things out. Provide motivations on myriad levels.”

“Do you mean motivations to murder? I did not kill Joyce.”

“There are other kinds of motivations.”

“Such as?”

“Such as helping other addicts, even drug dealers. Like Michael Swanson? You said you didn’t know him, but I’m pretty sure he was living in your potting shed.”

Baron looked unfazed by this revelation. “Was he? Didn’t know. It’s a big property. And the Barons haven’t had anything to ‘pot’ for decades.”

“So you’re saying he was coming and going a hundred yards from your house and you had no idea?”

“You said you were ‘pretty sure,’ which means you have no proof.”

“Are you saying you had no inkling someone was squatting in your potting shed?”

“‘Someone’ and ‘inkling.’ Very broad terms. Are you trying to catch me in another lie?”

“It will not end well for you if I do.”

Baron cocked his head. “Your tone has become a full degree more serious.”

“I just want to impress upon you that a federal penitentiary is not the place you want to be.”

Baron thought about this for a few seconds while he stared up at a bird floating along on thermals. “Mike Swanson was…a loser on many levels. I can relate to that. I can understand that. Now, there are losers who are bad people. Really bad people.”

“But Swanson wasn’t one of them?”

“He was an idiot. But he was a nice idiot. He sold some pot. He sold some pills. He was basically harmless.”

“So you gave him a place to stay?”

“I found him in the shed one day sound asleep. He’d been kicked out of so many places, he apparently biked all the way up to my property just to see if there was a place he could land for a while. He ended up staying longer. I voiced no objections. It’s not like I lacked for extra space.”