The Fix, Page 6

  Decker just stared at her.

  She hastily added, “I didn’t know we were going to be moving from Quantico to D.C., but I always thought we could live there regardless. We’d be going against traffic if we were still working at Quantico. Now it’s even closer.”

  “Do you mean we’ll be living together?” said Decker slowly, apparently not having heard what she’d just said.

  “Well, not living together. We’ll be roommates. Like in college.”

  “My college roommate was an offensive lineman who made me look small,” said Decker. “He was messy and disgusting, but he was a guy.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I’m a girl, but I can cook, so how about that?” retorted Jamison.

  “You can?” said Decker in a dubious tone.

  “Well, a little.”

  His gaze continued to bore into her.

  “I can microwave pretty much anything,” she snapped.

  Decker closed his eyes and said nothing.

  Jamison focused on Milligan. “And best of all, Melvin’s going to let Amos and me stay there rent-free in exchange for looking after things.” She added, “In addition to our jobs with the FBI.”

  Decker opened his eyes and said firmly, “I am not looking after a building. I don’t even know if I want to be roommates. This is a lot of change being thrown at me,” he added in an offended tone.

  “But I already said we would look after the place, Decker. I promised Melvin.”

  “Then you can,” said Decker. “One job is plenty for me.”

  She looked at him appraisingly. “Okay, if you want to find a place on your own, feel free. Keep in mind that D.C. is one of the most expensive real estate markets in the country. And you don’t have a car, so it’s not like you can live way out and commute in that way. So you’ll probably need to take out a loan to pay your rent. Just saying.”

  Decker continued to stare at her.

  Jamison said, “Look, I can deal with the tenants, all right? And everything else. You won’t really have to do much, if anything.”

  Milligan said, “Sounds like a deal you can’t refuse, Decker.”

  Decker didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Can I at least see the place first before I decide?”

  “Absolutely. We can go right now. But you’re going to love it. It’s very charming.”

  “Is that a code word for needing a lot of fixing up?” he asked.

  “It does need a bit of TLC,” she conceded. “But Melvin said I can hire professionals to do that.”

  Decker stared at Jamison. “Is there anything else you haven’t told me?”

  “Not that I know of,” said Jamison, refusing to meet his eye.

  “That is not a response that inspires confidence,” he said grumpily.

  CHAPTER

  9

  DECKER STARED AT the moonlit building.

  Jamison stood next to him, watching her friend closely.

  When Decker finally turned to her she looked away. “See, it’s everything I told you it would be,” she said, smiling at the asphalt.

  “And then some,” replied Decker tersely.

  The building had once been an old brick warehouse with huge windows; Jamison had informed him that it had been divided up into apartments. Decker took a deep breath and the smells from the nearby Anacostia River filled his lungs. On one side of the warehouse was an abandoned building. On the other side was a demolished structure. Across the street was a string of homes that looked to be about a hundred years old. They were actually leaning into one another and looked uninhabited.

  The parking lot of the former warehouse had seemingly more cracks than asphalt, and weeds were growing up through them. An old chain-link fence that surrounded the building was torn down in places and the gate was gone, leaving rusted hinges behind. A few cars were parked in the lot. The newest of them was about twenty years old. Two had plastic trash bags duct-taped over broken-out windows.

  “Has Melvin seen the place?” he asked.

  “He’s seen pictures. He asked me to look around and I did. And I found this.”

  He glanced at her. “So how much ‘looking around’ did you do?”

  “Melvin didn’t want to buy a place in a ritzy area, Decker, even though he could afford it. He wanted a place where he could make a difference. The rent on these places is well under the going rate. Everyone living here has a job. Most have multiple jobs. They work hard and they’re trying to better their lives and the lives of their families. It’s really a neat place. And within walking distance are a bunch of restaurants that just started up, all mom-and-pop shops. And there are churches and a park and…” Her voice trailed off as Decker gave no reaction to any of this.

  Jamison added, “So, you don’t like it? I know it’s not the Taj Mahal.”

  “I used to live in a cardboard box in a Walmart parking lot, and after that in one room at a Residence Inn. So if it has its own toilet this is actually a move up for me.”

  “Okay?” she said tentatively. “So you’re good with it?”

  “How many tenants?”

  “Fifteen units are rented. Two residents are single. The rest have families.”

  “So you’ve met them?”

  “Yes. I wasn’t going to give Melvin a recommendation without doing proper due diligence. He wants to do good things with his money, but I would never put him in a situation where he would lose his investment. And it’s got good bones. Once the rest of the improvements are done, it’ll be great. And the area around here, while I know it doesn’t look like much, is really starting to come around. Like I said, the restaurants are coming in, and buildings like this one are being renovated. All good stuff.”

  “And then the rents rise and the taxes go up and the people you’re trying to help can’t afford it anymore.”

  “Well, our rents aren’t going up. And we did a deal with the local government. They’ve given Melvin some tax abatements and other incentives so he can afford to keep helping those who need it.”

  “Abatements and incentives? When exactly did you do all this?”

  “In my spare time. I know I was a journalist when we first met, Decker. But my heart has always been about doing stuff like this.”

  Decker nodded and looked back at the building. “And where will we be living?”

  “Like I said, on the top floor. It’s got great views. And it’s all built out.”

  “Is it furnished, or do we have to go shopping?”

  “I took the liberty of getting some things. If you don’t like it we can always do a redo.”

  “Does it have a place to sit and a place to sleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  “Do you want to go inside?”

  He motioned for her to lead the way.

  Jamison punched in a code on a box next to the entry door and pushed it open. Decker followed her in to where they were confronted by a set of stairs.

  “It’s a true walk-up,” she explained. “No elevator.”

  Six flights up they reached a door that Jamison unlocked while Decker leaned against the wall and caught his breath. She looked back at him.

  “I thought you’d been working out,” she said.

  “I just did.”

  He followed her in and stopped. The ceilings were twenty feet high with exposed metal beams and concrete columns constituting the support structure of the building. They all had been painted black. The space was wide open, with a large seating area near the twelve-foot-tall windows, and a modern kitchen with stainless steel appliances and granite counters. There were two large bedrooms with en suite baths. Down another hall was a large office with a desk and shelves and a window with wooden shutters. A laptop sat on top of the desk.

  “That’s your office. I have a space next door. There’s also a Jacuzzi in there,” she added, pointing to a door on the left. “And a sauna. But I haven’t used either one. I’m not even sure if they work.”

  �
�Holy shit, Jamison,” said Decker. “When you were describing the place as needing TLC, I sure wasn’t expecting this!”

  She looked at him a bit guiltily. “This was the former building owner’s apartment. He put all the money into this space and went cheap everywhere else. The other apartments do not look like this.”

  “What happened to him?”

  She looked nervous. “I’d rather not say.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “I just wouldn’t.”

  “Alex!”

  “Okay, he got shot in the parking lot by some drug dealer he stiffed.”

  “Shot as in dead?”

  “Well, yeah. I thought that was sort of implied.”

  Decker looked around. “And did he use the money he was supposed to pay to the dealer to build this out?”

  “It’s not clear. But I wouldn’t worry about it. I mean, it’s not like we owe the drug dealer anything.”

  “So he was never caught?”

  “Well, the police had a suspect, but since there were no witnesses willing to come forward they had to let him go. The building went into bankruptcy and Melvin bought it. He got a really good deal, actually. Apparently there were no other bidders.”

  “Shocking,” said Decker.

  “But you like it, right?”

  “Yeah, I like it. It’s a palace compared to what I’m used to.”

  “I already brought my stuff up. You can move in anytime.”

  “All my possessions fit inside one bag, so it won’t be a huge undertaking.”

  She held out her hand. “Welcome to our new home, roomie.”

  Before shaking her hand Decker said, “Let’s get a few more locks on the door.”

  CHAPTER

  10

  THE NEXT MORNING Decker blinked himself awake and looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

  But they weren’t unfamiliar. They were the new digs. Big place, not a cardboard box. But with tenants. And maybe a pissed-off drug dealer lurking. The FBI had delivered his few personal belongings from his place in Quantico late last night. It had taken Decker about five minutes to put away all of his worldly possessions.

  He sat up and got out of bed. He walked over to the window and peered out. It was still dark outside, but the sun would soon begin to rise.

  As he continued to peer out, Decker saw a short, wiry man and a little boy walk outside and get into the car with the plastic bags taped over the rear side windows. The man was dressed in jeans, work boots, and a sweatshirt. He carried a yellow hard hat. The little boy had a large bag slung over his shoulder. They drove off, the car’s tailpipe peppering the air with dark fumes.

  Down the road paralleling the building, Decker saw two people, a man and a woman, staggering along under the glow of a streetlight. They didn’t look homeless, but to Decker’s experienced eye, they weren’t too far removed from it. The man cuffed the woman on the side of the head and she fell. He kept going. Finally, the woman struggled up and followed. She pulled something from her pocket, raised her hand to her mouth, and swallowed whatever it was.

  Decker watched them go, then used the bathroom, showered, and dressed. It was not yet seven o’clock. He walked down the hall to the kitchen and made himself coffee and a bowl of cereal. He had passed Jamison’s room and heard her soft snores through the partially open doorway.

  He sat and drank his coffee and ate his cereal, but mostly stared out the window into the gathering light.

  He had come a far distance from his former life in Burlington, Ohio.

  He had lost his family, his job, and his home.

  He had avenged the murders of his wife, daughter, and brother-in-law. But that did nothing to take away the loss, the pain. Nothing ever could. Time did not heal wounds for Decker. The passage of time was irrelevant to his unique mind. Everything he had ever experienced in life was as freshly minted in his brain as the moment it was created.

  That was the vast downside of having a perfect memory. He had so much he wanted to forget. And couldn’t.

  But that wasn’t all.

  He was no longer who he used to be. He knew that he did things that irritated others. Leaving rooms too abruptly. Zoning out and becoming unresponsive. Not having as much empathy as others would have liked.

  As he would have liked.

  He rubbed his head. What was up there had changed. Meaning he had changed along with it. There was no separating the two: his brain and the rest of Amos Decker. That was just the way things worked.

  That’s the way I work now.

  He put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, sat back down, and thought about the case.

  Berkshire the victim. Dabney the killer.

  Berkshire’s hazy past. Did the answer lie there?

  Or would the truth come from Dabney’s end?

  Or a combination of the two?

  He thought back to the shooting. He went through each frame in his head, looking for anything that would lead him in the right direction.

  They had tracked Dabney’s movements that day. He had taken an Uber from his home in McLean to a coffee shop near the Hoover Building. Decker knew he had walked from there toward the FBI building, where he had murdered Berkshire.

  As the frames whirred through his head an inconsistency popped up.

  Decker loved inconsistencies. They tended to point him in the direction of the truth, or at least to a lead.

  And right now he would dearly love a lead.

  Ellie Dabney had told Decker that she had made her husband breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, and roasted potatoes. Dabney had eaten it all, she had told them. Plus three cups of coffee.

  So why would he stop at a coffee shop on the way to his destination?

  It could be nothing. He might have been killing time before his meeting. Or else he had a quick cup of coffee while going over some notes.

  Although why do that if he knew he was never going to have that meeting? The man assuredly couldn’t have expected to murder someone in broad daylight with lots of witnesses around and then attend his meeting with the FBI as though nothing had happened. And it couldn’t have been a spur-of-the-moment thing commencing after he left the coffee shop. He had the gun in his briefcase. They had found traces of gun oil and other forensic fragments in there that proved this was so.

  Decker made a mental note to go to the coffee shop and find someone who had seen Dabney. Maybe he met with someone there. They had checked his phone records. He had made no calls that morning and sent no texts and no emails.

  Was that because he was about to commit murder? And he was steeling himself to do the deed? But if he did know Berkshire, how would he know she would be there that morning? The FBI had determined that she hadn’t called or scheduled a meeting with anyone. But then again, she might have been going there unannounced for some reason. Maybe she had something she wanted to tell the FBI.

  And Dabney stopped her from doing that. That was an interesting theory.