The Fallen (Amos Decker #4)(82)

“What?”

“Remember Costa had joined all the local organizations, Kiwanis, et cetera?”

“Yeah, we saw all those photos. So? Nothing strange there.”

“But he had also joined the local historical society.”

“You think he went there and did more research and maybe found where the treasure might be? Or what it is?”

“It’s certainly possible.”

“What about John Baron? Do you think he knows about the treasure rumors?”

“I don’t know, but I think his predecessors looked for it. That would account for the holes in the walls. And while the grounds are now overgrown, I saw lots of lumpy earth where people might have been digging for it.”

“But you don’t think Baron knows where it is?” she asked again.

“If he did, would he be living like he is?”

“True. So what are you going to do now?”

“I’ve got to follow in Costa’s footsteps and see what he found.”

“But why would someone murder him?”

“If he discovered the location of a treasure, that would be a motive.”

“And the three other vics?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, once the funeral is over I can start helping you again.”

“You don’t have to do that. Your family will need you.”

“I’m a woman, Decker.”

He looked confused. “Yeah, I know. So what?”

“That means I can multitask,” she replied with a smile.

He nodded. “Okay. But let’s keep in mind we’ve got some violent drug dealer involvement here. I checked out Brian Collins through an FBI database. The guy was a stone-cold killer. If there are more like him out there, this is going to get hairy.”

“Hey, it’s what we do, right?”

He stared at her so intently that she said, “I know. You don’t want anything to happen to me. But I signed up for this. I’m all in. I have your back, you have mine, right?”

He nodded.

“There’s one more thing, Decker.”

“What’s that?”

She said hesitantly, “I…I overheard your talk with Zoe on the stairs, before you left for New Jersey.”

Decker glanced away, his brow crinkling.

“It was really nice what you told her. I know that it helped her. And…and I so appreciate your doing it.”

Still looking away, Decker said, “She’s just a kid. She shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“But if she does, it’s good that she has a friend like you.”

“And an aunt like you,” he replied.

He rubbed his head again, trying to smooth down the still sticking-up hair.

“You’re worried about something, I can tell,” she said. “It’s not the case, is it?”

He shook his head.

“What is it, then?”

“At the institute in Chicago where I went after my brain injury, they told me a lot of things, but one of them stuck with me.”

“What was that?”

“They said that a damaged brain can keep changing. The initial reaction was the perfect recall and the synesthesia. But they said changes could happen again, years down the road.”

“But it’s been over two decades and nothing has changed, right?”

“Until I got walloped in the head here.”

“But you said the memory blip hasn’t happened again. And how about the synesthesia?”

He looked at her. “When I shot Brian Collins I didn’t see electric blue like I normally do.”

“What color did you see?”

“I didn’t see any color. And I didn’t feel sick or claustrophobic. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. But it does mean that something has changed in my head. And that’s, well, it’s a little unnerving.”

“I could see that. So maybe the injury to your head did do something. But your synesthesia might come back.”

“Part of me doesn’t want it to come back. But—”

“But you’re afraid that other things will change about you?”

He looked directly at her now. “I already became somebody else, Alex. I don’t want to go through that again. Because I don’t know who I might become next.” He added with an embarrassed smile, “And let’s face it, that person might not be as likable as me.”





Chapter 47



ASHES TO ASHES and dust to dust.

When Decker had buried his wife and child, he had stood at their gravesites as though experiencing a cruel hallucination. He knew what was happening in front of him, but could not believe it actually equated with any sense of reality.

Frank Mitchell’s funeral, he understood from this experience, was probably no different for Mitchell’s wife and young daughter. They would go through the motions today and go to bed tonight. And then wake up tomorrow and momentarily wonder where their husband and father was.

The weather had turned rainy and cold, with the gloom of clouds adding weight to an already oppressive atmosphere.

Frank’s parents, flanked by their grown children, sat looking feeble and dazed.