by Scott Blade
I nodded.
“She was a good person.”
Marksy asked, “How well did you know her?”
“Not socially. Just, you know, around the base. That sort of thing.”
“How do you know she was a good person?”
The doctor shrugged and said, “She’s dead. What do you want me to say about her? She was nice to me. Nice to my staff.”
I tuned them out for a moment, stood over Dekker.
Her body was as bad as the other AWOL victims had been described in the case reports.
I heard Marksy ask, “You take out the bullet?”
“Nine millimeter. Like the others.”
“Does it match any gun?”
“It doesn’t match any specific weapon, but I’d say it was shot from a Beretta M9, just like the ones from two years ago.”
I recalled reading that in the case report. The problem was every Army service member had an issued M9. The one that was issued to Dayard didn’t match. But that didn’t clear him of anything. M9s could be purchased at just about any gun show or gun store in the country.
Marksy took an irritated breath inward and said, “Doctor, I’m asking you to tell me whether or not the bullet matches the bullets that killed the others? Was it the same gun?”
Shpoik nodded, said, “I apologize. I’m tired. Been working non-stop ever since she came in.”
Marksy tilted her head showing her impatience.
“I couldn’t answer that. I can only tell you that it’s a nine millimeter. You’d have to send it to a lab for analysis.”
“You haven’t done that yet?”
“We don’t have that here. Hamilton will have to send it off to Fort Keys to have them look at it.”
Marksy said, “We can do it faster. Send it to our guys in Jacksonville.”
“You can take it with you.”
Marksy’s temples turned an angry shade of red. She said, “You’d just hand it off to us? Just like that?”
“I meant that we’d have to ask Hamilton to clear it first. Of course.”
“Just have him send it off to Jacksonville.”
Shpoik nodded.
I studied Dekker for another ten minutes, didn’t pay much attention to the rest of their conversation.
I looked at her from top to bottom, looking for clues.
I closed my eyes, pulled up the slides of the dead women in my mind that I had seen back in New York. They clicked past from one to the next. I heard the CHIK CHIK sound as each horrifying image passed by, like Pawn was in my brain clicking them on.
I visualized each dead body until they fit inside each other like faceless composites all combined to make one dead woman.
I opened my eyes and stared at Dekker one last time. Every minute detail of her injuries and the bullet hole fit the MO of AWOL killer down to the details.
It was him. No doubt about it.
CHAPTER 29
MARKSY AND THE DOCTOR finished their conversation. The doctor agreed to send off the bullet, to email photos of the body, and to keep Marksy in the loop on any new findings.
We left the base. Kelvin drove us down the highway and then onto the interstate. We headed south, the way that I had originally come from yesterday.
I could’ve made my way back to Cocoa Beach from here, pretty easily. The thought occurred to me, but then it left because Talbern spoke.
“Where do we go now? Back to New York?”
Marksy said, “We should call Pawn. See where we stand.”
“We should stop for coffee?” I said.
Everyone turned to look at me, except for Kelvin. He kept his eyes on the road.
“That’s a good idea. Let’s get off the interstate at the next town. See if we can find a McDonald’s or something.”
Kelvin nodded to her and drove another fifteen minutes. He got off the interstate and headed onto an exit that had no town name, only a street. But there were hotels and fast-food joints and gas stations everywhere.
We ended up sitting outside on the patio of a coffee chain called Roasted Bean.
I had a tall, black coffee. Everyone else had what I had predicted they would have. Kelvin had a black coffee with a ton of sugar. Marksy had an espresso. And Talbern drank a strawberry smoothie.
Marksy stepped away and called Pawn.
We sat in silence for a while until Kelvin finally said, “I’m going to drive back to Jacksonville.”
“What do you mean? Why?”
He shrugged, said, “There’s no reason for us to be a part of this. Unless Pawn needs us.”
Talbern said, “I’m not going back. Not yet.”
Kelvin said nothing.
Marksy came back and sat down. She shot the rest of her espresso.
“What did he say?” Talbern asked.
“He thinks we should stay here for another day or so. See if anything new turns up. We’ll have to get a couple of hotel rooms. Probably should head to Orlando.”
Kelvin didn’t mention his ideas of returning to his field office, but I could see it on his face. It made me wonder if he was jealous of Talbern and me. He did kind of act like a jealous boyfriend, like a third wheel.
Suddenly, Talbern’s phone rang and she looked at the screen before answering it.
I guessed that she didn’t recognize the caller because she looked at me, confused.
She stood up and stepped away, answered the phone.
“FBI. Talbern here.”
Silence.
“Who is this?”
Another pause as she listened.
“Oh.”
She walked back and stared at me.
“It’s for you.”
I stared at her for a second. Then I stood up and took the phone, pressed it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Widow? This is Clayton.”
“What’s up?”
“Dayard wants to see you. He has information.”
“Why can’t he just tell you?”
“Not Secretary Dayard. I’m talking about James. The son.”
James is the one in prison.
“What’s he got?”
“I have no idea. He won’t say. He won’t tell me or his father.”
“Why me?” I asked, but I already suspected it was because he saw me as his last chance to get off death row.
Clayton said, “His father told him about you. I’m sure you know the rest.”
“I’m pretty far away right now.”
“Where are you?”
“We’re in Florida.”
“I see. What’s the nearest airport? I’ll buy you a ticket.”
I took the phone away from my ear and covered the receiver. Looked at Talbern.
“It’s Dayard. The one in prison. He wants us to go see him.”
“We should do it. We’re not doing anything here.”
I nodded and spoke back into the phone.
“Clayton, don’t bother. We’ll head that way. The FBI will send me.”
“I don’t know if he’ll talk in front of them.”
“Tough shit. That’s the way it is. It’s their case.”
“Okay. I would leave now, if I were you. He made it sound urgent.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“No,” he said and hung up.
I gave the phone back to Talbern.
“We going?”
I walked with her back to the table and said, “We gotta go. Talbern and I have to go see Dayard.
Marksy looked up and said, “What the hell for?”
“He has evidence. He claims. Says he’ll only show it to me.”
Marksy said nothing.
Kelvin said, “You two better go. We can drive you to the airport in Orlando.”
Marksy nodded, said, “I’m still not convinced that Dayard is innocent in all of this. He’s got an accomplice. But maybe if we play along, he’ll give up something useful and we can solve this thing. So, go to him. Find out what he knows. I want to catch t
his guy before he does it again.”
I nodded.
“Let’s get going then,” Kelvin said.
We all finished our drinks, except for Talbern. She took hers with us.
We threw away our trash in a trash can outside and hopped back into the SUV. We drove, listening to pop music most of the way to Orlando.
On our way, Marksy called her office back in New York and had them book Talbern and me on a commercial flight at four pm, which was about forty minutes after they dropped us off at the terminal.
We had no bags to check. We headed in and walked up to a machine. Talbern printed out boarding passes and then we walked right to security. I got in line and Talbern pulled me out of it.
She said, “We don’t stand in line.”
“I should fly with you more often then.”
She smiled, walked us to the priority pass line, where there was no one but a bored-looking TSA agent.
“Can I help you?” He asked.
Talbern pulled out her badge and said, “FBI.”
She handed him the boarding passes.
He looked at her badge and inspected it. Then he asked, “Are you armed?”
“Yes.”
“I need to print you a pass for your weapon.”
“Fine.”
“What about him? He FBI?”
“No. He’s with me.”
“Can I see his passport?”
I reached in my pocket and pulled it out, handed it over to him.
“Let me get my supervisor on the radio.”
He called his supervisor and we listened to the whole back and forth for a few minutes. Then we waited for another ten and finally the guy showed up and said, “Follow me.”
We followed him through security and he handed Talbern back her badge and gave my passport to me.
He gave Talbern a slip of paper.
“Carry this with you and show it to the pilot when you board. “We’ll inform him that you’ll fly on his plane with your weapon, but you should show him this anyway.”
“Thanks,” Talbern said and she grabbed my hand, pulled me behind her.
We boarded the plane. Talbern followed the protocol. The pilot shook her hand and said nothing else about it.
I was disappointed in the flight because we were sitting in coach. We went from a private jet and flight crew to sitting in coach.
It made me feel like a rich guy who lost it all at the track one night. It was quite the letdown.
I sat in a middle seat and Talbern squeezed next to me at the window.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that I never asked what prison Dayard was in.
I asked, “Where the hell are we going?”
“Kansas.”
“Kansas?” I asked.
“Yeah. That’s where Dayard is.”
“Wait. He’s in Leavenworth?”
“Yeah. He was an Army officer, who murdered three soldiers. Where else would he go?”
“Pawn said he was on death row. Said he was getting executed.”
“What about it?”
“The military hasn’t executed an inmate on death row since nineteen sixty-one.”
We had a three-hour flight and landed at Kansas City International Airport and rented a car. Talbern put everything on a credit card that I assumed belonged to the FBI.
We drove out to Fort Leavenworth.
The thing that Leavenworth is most famous for is the prison, naturally. But I was pretty stunned by how beautiful the town of Leavenworth, Kansas, and the fort were.
There were rolling hills, lush greenery everywhere, and huge blue skies.
The town was built overlooking the Missouri River. There were gothic American-style buildings and streets. London-style street lamps from the nineteenth century burned everywhere as the night came on. They were all electric and not torchlight, like the old London ones, of course.
I watched out the window as we drove through the town and up to the fort. That was as much sightseeing as I was going to get. I was sure.
We came up to the gate.
Fort Leavenworth was a whole world from the tiny base of Graham. It was heavily guarded compared to Graham.
Even with Talbern’s badge, we had to go through a whole rigmarole before we were even allowed on base. And that’s counting the fact that Pawn had called ahead and told the MPs to expect us.
Eventually, we had to get out of the vehicle. We couldn’t drive it onto the base. We had to leave it at a check-in center in front of the west gate.
They assigned a liaison to us. A Warrant Officer named Pines. She was a female officer in her early thirties. She was Hispanic and short, around five-three. She was shorter than Talbern, but not much.
She had tightly cropped hair, black, and a great smile. She was warm and very friendly.
She picked us up at the gate in a military police car, a Ford Crown Vic.
Talbern sat next her in the front, which left the rear bench for me. I smiled before getting in. Talbern looked at me and smiled back. She knew why it was funny. She didn’t have to ask.
Pines looked back at me, over her shoulder.
She said, “It’s nice to meet both of you.”
“Likewise,” I said.
Talbern kept her smile on her face and targeted it at Pines instead of at me.
“You guys are interviewing the AWOL killer like before he’s gone or something?”
“What do you know about him, Pines?” I asked.
“Just like everyone else. You know, I followed it on the news.”
Talbern asked, “What’s he like?”
“Oh, I never met him. This will be my first time. I’ve heard he’s disappointing.”
“Disappointing?” Talbern asked.
“Yeah, like he’s normal. Quiet, even.”
“The quiet man.”
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Never mind. Does he ever claim he’s innocent?”
“All the time. They all do.”
Talbern said, “Has he made any friends inside?”
“Friends?”
“Does he talk to anyone? Interact with other prisoners?”
“He can’t. He’s kept in solitary.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Not really solitary. Just that he has his own cell. He’s kept on the block with the other death row inmates.”
“I thought the Army hasn’t executed anyone for like fifty years. But they have a block for soldiers on death row?” Talbern asked.
Pines cringed. I could see it on her face. She didn’t like that Talbern had called Dayard a soldier and not a prisoner. To folks in the military, you commit a crime, then you disgraced the uniform. Thus, disqualifying you to be called a soldier. But Pines said nothing about it.
“Since nineteen sixty It’s true. But because of the nature of Dayard’s crimes, no judge will grant a stay of execution.”
“Nineteen sixty-one was the year.”
They both looked at me. Pines in the rearview and Talbern over her shoulder.
She said, “Don’t mind him.”
Pines didn’t respond. She moved her eyes forward and drove on.
I stared out the window as we turned and drove down several streets. It seemed like she was taking us the back way to the prison.
Turned out she was. Instead of going in through the main entrance, through the numerous guards posted and gate checks, we came in through a separate gate. It was for deliveries. There still were MPs in armored vests and helmets and carrying serious AR15 rifles.
They saluted Pines and let us through with little delay.
Pines drove the car into a big lot and parked it near a covered Army truck in the back.
We got out and followed her through a series of security doors with sliding card entry. Finally, we ended up taking an elevator up to the third floor. We got off and walked down a long, Army green hallway.
There was a red strip painted down the corridor.
She stopped in front of
a heavy metal door and turned back to us.
“This is it.”
I reached out and grabbed her arm, gently.
“Mind if we see him alone?”
Talbern looked up at me, but didn’t protest.
“Well. Um,” Pines said. She looked down at her watch, like the answer was on the face of it.
“It’s important to the bureau that we can interview the subject without any military presence.”
“Why?”
Talbern added, “We were told that we could interview him alone. It’s a matter of life or death. He has information that can help out a separate case.”
Pines looked at Talbern for a sign of honest in what she was saying. Pines wasn’t stupid.
I let go of her arm and Talbern kept a straight face.
“Okay,” Pines agreed.
She turned the doorknob and led us into the room.
There was an MP standing guard at another door, inside the room on the opposite wall. She walked over to him. He saluted her and she spoke to him, out of earshot.
He turned and nodded an affirmative response to her, then he opened the other door and exited.
She walked back to us and said, “He’ll be here in a moment. I told them to give you privacy. But remember, the cameras stay on.”
She looked up at a camera in one corner of the room.
“We never turn those off.”
Talbern and I both stared up at the camera. It was a big, ugly gray thing with a huge lens on the end of it. It looked like it was the original model, installed over fifty years ago.
“We don’t even turn those off for lawyer meetings,” Pines said.
Talbern said, “Really?”
“Soldiers don’t get lawyer-client privileges,” I said. “At least not the way you think of it.”
Talbern shrugged.
I said, “In boot camp, the drill instructors say your asses belong to the Army. That’s exactly what they mean.”
Pines reached her hand out and shook Talbern’s. She said, “Okay. Just knock on the door when you’re ready. I’ll be outside.”
And she turned and left us.
In the center of the room was a metal table. It reminded me of the table that Dekker’s body was displayed on back in Florida. Only this one wasn’t so polished. It was faded like it had been intentionally been painted matte metallic gray.
There were three chairs at the table. One on the prisoner side, I figured, and two for visitors.