The Fallen

by David Baldacci

  A few moments passed and then the young man exhaled a long breath, sat up straight, blinked, and looked around, his expression foggy.

  “Great,” said the man sarcastically. “You brought him back. ’Til the next time.”

  Decker looked at him. “Who are you?”

  “I’m his uncle. And the bastard didn’t have the decency to wait till his sister was buried before pulling this shit. Talk about showing no damn respect.”

  “His sister?” said Kemper. “How’d she die?”

  “Damn heroin overdose,” said the uncle. “Didn’t get her the Narcan in time.” He pointed to the young man. “That asshole coulda saved her, but he was in the bathroom doing lines of coke.”

  A moment later the young man leaned out the window and threw up.

  They all jumped back to avoid the vomit.

  The young man looked angrily at Decker until he saw the bottle in his hand.

  “You almost bit the bullet for good, buddy,” said Decker.

  “Thanks, man,” he said groggily, wiping his mouth.

  Decker looked at Kemper and then back at the young man.

  He tossed the bottle of Narcan to the woman, walked back to the SUV, and got in.

  Kemper turned to the aunt and uncle. “An ambulance will be here shortly. He’ll need to go to the hospital.”

  “Right,” said the uncle. “Whatever.”

  As Kemper walked off, he slapped his nephew on the back of the head. “Dumbass!”

  Kemper hurried after Decker and climbed into the truck.

  “You okay?” she said once she’d settled in.

  Decker didn’t say anything for a long moment. “I’m just wondering whether we’re ever going to dig ourselves out of this hole.”

  “I’ve seen it all at the DEA. Every foul thing a human being can stoop to when they’re hooked on drugs. Even that back there didn’t surprise me. I’ve seen worse. Five-year-olds performing CPR on their parents. A grandmother knocking in her son’s head for the cash to feed her addiction. A mother selling her ten-year-old daughter for sex to get her heroin pops. But we’ll make it through this, Decker.”

  He glanced at her. “You really believe that?”

  “I have to. Otherwise, I couldn’t do my job.”

  A minute of silence passed before Decker broke it.

  “You mentioned insurance companies rating the value of a life,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s part of their business.”

  “Cindi Riley told me that she’d lost a number of friends to overdoses here.”

  “Not surprised. And there are thousands of places just like this one. Where people used to get up every day and go to work with a purpose. And now they don’t have a purpose. Or a job. Or any self-worth. That takes its toll, Decker. In a lot of ways. That’s why they’re calling the opioid epidemic the drugs of despair.”

  “Riley also said that some of her friends had life insurance policies. And that some of the renovations in town are due to people having received large payouts from life insurance companies.” He pointed at the new luxury cars parked along the road. “And maybe those proceeds are also helping to pay for those.”

  Kemper mulled this over for a few moments before shaking her head. “No insurance company will knowingly write a large life insurance policy on someone in such bad health they’re likely to die, or someone addicted to drugs, Decker, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Maybe they weren’t an addict when the policy was written,” he said.

  “What are you driving at?”

  “It would be interesting to know how many people in Baronville who’ve died from drug overdoses had large life insurance policies. Can you find that out?”

  Kemper stared out at the line of cars parked on the road. “I can try.”

  “Good.” Before she could respond, he said, “I’ve got to get back. I promised Jamison I’d help this afternoon. They’re having a reception at the Mitchells’.”

  As he climbed out of the truck Kemper said, “I didn’t picture you as much of a domestic.”

  “Well, these days, I’m even surprising myself.”

  Chapter 48

  THE RAIN WAS pouring down outside now. It beat on the Mitchells’ roof as the combined families and a few others gathered at the house after the funeral.

  Decker had arrived in time to help Jamison and her sisters set things up. Food and drinks were laid out and chairs from the kitchen and other rooms distributed around. Decker had also passed on to Amber the lawyer’s card that Ted Ross had given him. She said she would call him later in the week.

  Zoe was in a chair cuddling with both her blanket and her cat, Felix, while Amber sat with her in-laws quietly talking.

  Alice Martin had come over with a boxed pie. She was now holding court in a corner of the room with Jamison and one of the school mothers. Ted Ross and the people with him from Maxus had said their goodbyes at the gravesite and skipped this event. Decker thought that wise, because Frank’s father’s jaw had tightened back at the cemetery when Ross had come by and offered his condolences to Amber.

  The knock on the door caused Decker to flick a gaze at Jamison to let her know that he would answer it. She responded with a smile.

  Decker opened the door and gazed dully at the pair standing there.

  John Baron and Cindi Riley, both holding umbrellas, stared back at him.

  “I take it you’re positively stunned at our presence here,” commented Baron.

  Decker noted that he had on crisply pressed dress slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a faded corduroy sport coat with patches at the elbows.

  Under her raincoat, Riley wore a loose-fitting black dress that settled right at her knee and matching pumps. Her hair was done up in a French braid. She held a package in her other hand.

  “I am,” said Decker.

  “We came by to pay our respects,” said Baron.

  Riley handed Decker the package. “And to bring this. It’s a bottle of single malt whisky.”

  “Okay,” said Decker. He just stood there holding it until Jamison appeared at his elbow.

  “Hello,” she said to the pair.

  Baron held out his hand. “We met before. John Baron. This is Cindi Riley.”

  Jamison shook their hands.

  Baron said, “As I told your colleague here, we came by to pay our respects.”

  Decker said, “And they brought a bottle of single malt scotch.” He handed it to her.

  Riley said, “I’m Irish. It’s what we bring to wakes. I hope it’s okay.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you. Please come in out of the rain,” said Jamison.

  She led them in and Decker closed the door behind the group.

  All eyes in the room turned to the new arrivals.

  No one seemed to recognize Baron other than Alice Martin. Decker saw her eyes widen slightly at the sight of the man, and then she returned to her conversation with one of the young mothers from Zoe’s school.

  Baron and Riley spoke briefly to Amber, offering their condolences.

  Then Jamison led the pair over to Zoe and introduced them.

  His eyes twinkling, Baron got down on his knees in front of Zoe. “You strike me as a person who doesn’t believe in magic.”

  Zoe had her thumb stuffed in her mouth and didn’t answer.

  “Do I take that as a yes, that you don’t believe in magic?” said Baron.

  Zoe nodded.

  “All right. Now let me see. What did I do with that?”

  He tapped his jacket pockets, looked under the chair, and then reached out to the blanket and lightly touched its edges. “No, it’s definitely not there.”

  Zoe removed her thumb and said, “What’s not there?”

  Baron, pretending not to have heard her, said, “Oh, of course, now I remember. Zoe, could you just reach in your cat’s right ear? You’ll find it in there, I think.”

  Zoe looked uncertainly at Decker and then Jamison, who nodded encoura
gingly at her.

  Zoe slowly put her fingers in Felix’s right ear and her eyes bulged as she withdrew a small silver coin. She said, “How did it get in Felix’s ear?”

  Baron clapped his hands together and glanced at Jamison. “Well, I feel sure that Felix is a very special cat, right?”

  Zoe nodded.

  “Well, special cats can do magical things, like hiding coins in their ears.”

  He took the coin and examined it. “Now, this is a very rare coin. It will bring whoever possesses it good luck. Okay?”

  “Okay,” said Zoe, still looking wide-eyed from her cat to the coin.

  Baron held it up in front of her. “It’s one hundred and forty-seven years old. It once belonged to my ancestor. He had a great many coins and never parted with many, but this one found its way to me and I would be honored if you would accept it as a token of my appreciation for your being such a brave young lady, and the owner of such a special cat. Would you do that, Zoe? Will you take the coin?”

  Her fingers closed around the coin as she nodded.

  He sat back and looked at her. “And now do you believe in magic? Perhaps just a little? Or at least in very special cats?”

  She nodded energetically.

  “What do you say, Zoe?” said Jamison, gazing admiringly at Baron.

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you for doing me the honor of accepting it.” Baron glanced over at Amber, who was staring at them from across the room. “I bet your mom could use a hug right about now. And you can show her your brand-new, very old coin.”

  Zoe smiled, jumped up, and ran over to her mother as Baron stood.

  “That was really nice,” said Jamison.

  “It was,” agreed Riley.

  Jamison added, “You seem to be a man of many talents.”

  “No, just a jack of all trades and a master of none, I’m afraid. My lot in life. So, how are things here?”

  Jamison said, “I guess what one would expect. I’m just glad the funeral is over.”

  Baron shook his head. “I don’t get the ritual of the funeral and the gravesite service. As if already grieving people need to go through that as well.”

  “It’s a way of paying respects, John,” countered Riley.

  Baron pointed to the bottle held by Jamison. “I would rather pay my respects by drinking that. And if you point me toward the kitchen, I can get us glasses.”

  Jamison led him that way, leaving Riley and Decker alone.

  “You left my place really abruptly the other night,” she said. “You said you had somewhere to go.”

  “I did.”

  “Where?”

  Decker studied her. “I found Stanley Nottingham.”

  “Who?”

  “The name of the guy on the back of the photo.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “He was related to Baron’s butler, Nigel.”

  “Wow, that’s a coincidence.” She glanced sharply at Decker. “But you said you don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Even if I did, I wouldn’t believe in one that big.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “Ever hear any rumors about a treasure being hidden at the Baron estate?”

  Riley shook her head. “No, why? Did this Stanley guy say there was?”

  “He’d heard stories. And he lived in the same building in New York that Brad Costa did. They were friends, in fact.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying that Brad Costa came to Baronville because he heard about rumors of some treasure?”

  “I think it wasn’t just based on rumors. I think he did some digging on his own and then came here.”

  “But he would have had to be pretty sure that it was true to pull up roots and move to this place.”

  “I agree with you.”

  “Do you really think there is some sort of treasure up there?”

  “I think people have looked for it. But I don’t think they ever found it.”

  “Damn.”

  “Baron never mentioned that to you?”

  “No, never. And if he’d found anything, I doubt he’d be living as he is.”

  “Agreed. But he had to know about the rumors.”

  She glanced at him. “Why are you telling me all this? Isn’t it part of your investigation?”

  “It’s a parallel part. And I’m telling you because I’m relying on my gut. And my gut tells me I can trust you. Also, I need some traction on this case, which means I need some local help.”

  “John would know more than I would. It’s his family.”

  “But can I trust him?”

  “I do.”

  At that moment, Baron and Jamison came back with four glasses. He poured out a portion of whisky in each.

  “To Frank,” he said, raising his glass.

  The others repeated this toast and they all took a sip of the whisky.

  Jamison said, “Wow, I’m not used to something this strong, at least not in the afternoon.”

  Baron eyed her. “If you live here long enough, you’d see the utility in it. But I don’t recommend you live here, Alex.”

  Decker glanced at Riley and then said to Baron, “Nigel Nottingham?”

  Baron lowered his glass and glanced at him. “What about him?”

  “Baron the First’s loyal butler.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  Riley said quickly, “He talked to a relative of the guy. He lived in the same building as Brad Costa. Decker thinks the relative told Costa about a possible treasure at your house. That’s why Costa came here.”

  “And was murdered,” added Decker, still looking at Baron.

  Baron said wearily, “Yes, the treasure. The alleged treasure.”

  “You never mentioned that to us,” said Decker.

  “Why would I? There is no treasure.”

  “So you’ve looked for it?” said Jamison.

  “No. But my ancestors did, for many, many decades. And it was never found, because our patron would never have left any money for his descendants to find. It wasn’t in his DNA.”

  “Costa must have thought differently,” said Decker. “Why else chuck New York for this place. Did he ever ask you about it?”

  “As I told you before, I don’t know the man. I never met the man, so there would have been no possible way for him to ask me anything.”

  “And you’re certain about that?”

  Baron pursed his lips and looked amused. “I’m assuming you’re referring to my failure to tell you about Joyce and Michael Swanson?”

  “Your credibility is not all that good in my book.”

  Baron said, “Well, I’m not sure what I can say to convince you otherwise, so perhaps I should take my leave.” He turned to Alex. “I am very sorry for what happened. I doubt there’s anything I can do, but if you or your sister need anything, please ask and I’ll do whatever I can.”

  Riley said, “Same for me.”

  “Thank you,” said Jamison.

  They all walked outside. Fortunately, the rain had nearly stopped. As Baron and Riley were heading to his old Suburban, they heard the sirens.

  “Coming this way,” noted Decker.

  They saw flashing lights turn onto the street where the Murder House was.

  All four of them ran over to the next block in time to see the police leap from their cars and run up to a house. The front door was open and an elderly woman was waiting on the porch looking distressed. As they watched, an ambulance slowly drove up to the house, its emergency lights off.

  “Who lives there?” asked Riley.

  Decker said, “Dan Bond. And from the looks of things, I’m not sure he lives there anymore.”

  Chapter 49

  WHY WOULD ANYONE want to kill Dan?”

  A weepy Alice Martin had asked this same question so many times that Decker thought she might be in shock.

  After flashing their badges at the responding officers, Decker and Jamison had been told that the death
was not natural or accidental.

  “Somebody crushed in his skull,” one officer had reported.

  Now they were all gathered back at Amber’s house after Dan Bond’s remains had been removed from his home. The other guests had left and Amber and Zoe were upstairs resting. Jamison’s sisters had driven Frank’s parents and his siblings back to their motel.

  Baron and Riley were still there and were silently studying the floor of the living room. Baron had another glass of whisky in hand.

  Jamison put an arm on Alice Martin’s shoulder. “I’m sure the police will find out who did it.”

  The elderly woman wailed to her, “Well, they haven’t found out who killed those other people yet.”

  Jamison glanced at Decker, who was just about to make a comment when someone knocked on the door.

  Decker knew who he was going to see when he opened it.

  Detectives Green and Lassiter stared back at him.

  Green said grimly, “I think we might want to evacuate the other residents from that street, and I’m only half joking.”

  “One of them is here,” said Decker, indicating Martin. “What about Fred Ross?”

  Lassiter said, “We woke him up when we knocked on the door. He was in a foul mood.”

  “You’re lucky he didn’t have his shotgun with him.”

  “Yeah, well, he said if anybody tried to bash his head in, they’d get both barrels in their face for the trouble.”

  “What can you tell me?” asked Decker.

  “Care to step outside?” said Lassiter.

  They went back out on the porch and Decker turned to face them.

  Green said, “He’s been dead since around midnight last night.”

  “Forced entry?”

  “No sign of that. An elderly friend came over to check on him when he didn’t show up for a church meeting and they couldn’t reach him on the phone. She found him in the kitchen.”

  “How’d she get in?”

  Green said, “She had a key. We checked her out, she’s what she claims to be.”

  Decker said. “A uniform told me there was blunt force trauma to the head?”

  “Correct,” said Lassiter.

  “Murder weapon?”

  “Didn’t find one. Perp probably took it with him.”

  “And no one saw anything?”