The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(70)

Decker had a sudden thought. “Could it have been a chopper and not a drone?”

Bond shook his head. “Choppers are real noisy. I would have definitely heard a chopper, and so would you at that low an altitude.”

“Makes sense. And the drone would have a camera attached, right?”

Bond nodded. “Sort of the point. You use a drone to take pictures or video. Though I guess there’s talk of using them to deliver stuff too. Anyway, Jeremy’s has a fancy camera on his. He told me he slides his phone right into the control box and the drone sends whatever it’s seeing right to his phone. Don’t really understand how all that works, but then I’m just an old fart. On this street, we’re all old farts. Well, I take that back. I never would call Alice a fart. She is a very dignified lady. Taught Sunday school.”

Decker said, “So you know Alice Martin?”

“Oh yes. She and my wife were really good friends. She came to the funeral.”

“And Fred Ross? You mentioned him and his shotgun. Do you know him well?”

Bond’s face wrinkled up. “I’ve had that displeasure for far too long.”

“Yeah, that’s what Alice Martin said. You say you were outside that night. Did you hear the drone?”

“No, I didn’t. You can hear it when it’s on the ground, but not high up in the air. They’re pretty quiet. At least Jeremy’s is.”

“Did you hear any other sound? It’s really important.”

Bond again scratched his chin. “Well, I did hear a weird sound I’ve never heard before. Something tapping and scraping. Over and over.”

Tapping and scraping. That’s actually a good description.

“I heard it too, but I couldn’t tell what it was,” said Decker. “So, you’ve never heard it before?”

Bond shook his head.

“But you could hear it from your back porch?”

“The yards here are small, and the houses are even smaller. It’s not that far from my back porch to the street.”

“And the car starting up and driving along? Did you recognize if it belonged to maybe Alice Martin?”

“Alice doesn’t drive and she doesn’t have a car.”

“I take it Ross doesn’t drive anymore, being in a wheelchair.”

“No, he does. He’s got his big van all rigged out. Chairlift and special controls so he can drive it even though he can’t move his legs. Well, at least he used to. When I still had my sight I would watch him driving it.”

“How was he disabled?”

“At the textile plant where he worked. Some big piece of equipment fell on him. Paralyzed from the waist down. That was decades ago.”

“That’s tough.”

“Well, it hasn’t made him exactly congenial. But, to tell the truth, Fred was an asshole even when he could walk.”

Decker smiled. “I could definitely see that.”

“Back then, I could see it too. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“No, you were of great help. Thank you.”

Decker left and walked back to his truck.

A drone.

So, who was watching what or who that night?





Chapter 42



SURELY, A STRICKEN place.

Decker was on the rear deck of the Murder House looking at the back of the Mitchells’ home.

He had been gone all day. He had covered a lot of ground but didn’t feel as though he had made much progress. Unfortunately, that could be the textbook definition of being a homicide detective.

There was still a DEA agent on duty at the Murder House, but the flashing of Decker’s credentials had allowed him admittance per Kate Kemper’s instructions.

As he watched, the rear door of the Mitchells’ house opened and Jamison stepped out. Behind her was another tall young woman who was holding Zoe’s hand.

They all sat down around the outdoor table.

While Decker had never met any of Jamison’s sisters other than Amber, he assumed the woman was one of them. She had the same long, lithe build and facial features as her sister. She had obviously traveled in for the funeral of her brother-in-law. A moment later the door opened and Amber stepped out. Even from this distance it seemed to Decker that the woman had aged twenty years. She was not so much walking as shuffling along.

He drew back into the shadows so they wouldn’t be able to see him. He didn’t quite know why he did this. Well, maybe he did.

He didn’t want to have to be with them right now because he wouldn’t know what to say or do. And he didn’t want to blurt out something that would embarrass his partner.

He continued to watch as Zoe curled into her mother’s lap and put her thumb in her mouth.

Decker knew that every time Zoe celebrated her birthday the agony of her father’s death on the same day would be front and center. Every present she opened, every piece of cake she bit into, every candle she blew out would bring the memory of her father’s last day alive. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right, and there was also nothing anyone could do about it.

The guilt at times would be simply overpowering, ripping the smile off your face and the laughter from your throat.

Decker knew this, because almost the very same thing had happened to him. And this thought both enraged and energized him, the twin emotions combining to further fuel his desire to discover whether Frank Mitchell had been murdered or not.