Walk the Wire

by David Baldacci

  As they gazed around, their collective eyes caught and held on Daniels. He was still in his wheelchair, but he hung limply to the side. His head was bleeding, and his breaths were shallow. A section of the ceiling had fallen on him.

  Reel raced over to him and felt for his pulse. “Really weak.”

  Robie cleared the debris away and pushed him out of the room and down the hall, toward the front entrance. Reel was right next to him.

  “If he dies—” she began.

  “—then we’ve lost,” Robie finished for her.

  “HE’S IN A COMA,” said Robie. “They don’t know if he’s going to make it. But he’s a tough old bird. My money’s on him.”

  It was the following evening and he was sitting in the back seat of Jamison’s SUV. Decker was in the passenger seat. Reel had gone to stay with Daniels at the hospital.

  “A robot?” said Jamison. “They sent a freaking robot?”

  “A killing machine,” said Robie. “Didn’t expect to see it at a nursing home in North Dakota.”

  “So we don’t know what he told Purdy,” said Decker.

  “He was just about to tell us when everything went to hell.”

  “We keep swinging and missing,” said Decker. “And we’re getting down to our last outs.” A text appeared on his phone and he looked down at it.

  “The ME just completed the post on McClellan, and he has some interesting findings.”

  “Let’s go hear what they are,” said Jamison.

  Robie opened the truck door and climbed out. “I’d like to remain in the background. Loop me in later.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes after leaving Robie they stared down at the naked body of Stuart McClellan. Joe Kelly had joined them at the funeral home. McClellan had been professionally sliced and diced by an ME provided by the FBI. Tom Reynolds was a stern-looking gent in his late fifties with a military haircut, and his manner was no-nonsense. But there was a twinkle in his eyes that perhaps evinced the interesting development he had mentioned in his text.

  “What do you have?” said Decker.

  “Death was certainly by carbon monoxide poisoning. Tissue samples presented classic microscopic hemorrhaging and dead tissue throughout. Congestion and swelling of the brain, spleen, liver, and kidneys. The skin is obviously flushed, another classic sign, and the blood was a cherry red, a further telltale sign.”

  “So it was suicide then?” said Kelly.

  “No, it’s not,” said Decker, as he closely eyed Reynolds. “Something that straightforward would not have prompted you to text me about some ‘interesting findings.’ ”

  “Correct,” said Reynolds. “Do you know what TTX is?”

  Kelly shook his head but Decker said, “Tetrodotoxin. It’s a powerful neurotoxin.”

  Reynolds nodded. “Nasty stuff. It stops nerve conduction between the brain and body by, in part, shutting down sodium channels. A tiny bit paralyzes the muscles needed to breathe and the heart to keep pumping blood. It’s lethal whether ingested, inhaled, or absorbed into the skin, like through a cut. Takes about six hours to fully take effect. Once it stops the diaphragm, you’re dead. It’s one of the deadliest substances on the planet. Only seen it one other time in my career, on the other side of the world.”

  “And yet here it shows up in London, North Dakota,” said Decker.

  “How did you find it?” asked Jamison.

  Reynolds led them over to a highly complex-looking device. “I always bring this baby with me. Never know when it might come in handy. There were certain puzzling elements that I saw in the brain, the diaphragm, and the heart that made me suspicious, made me think that something neurological was going on that could not be explained away simply by the carbon monoxide. They were slight, but I have enough experience for warning bells to go off. So I ran a test on some urine in the body. And there it was, clear as day.”

  “Where the hell does someone get this TTX?” said Kelly.

  “It’s found in marine life,” replied Reynolds. “Most principally in the puffer fish. The puffer fish is a Japanese delicacy. Most TTX deaths are accidental and take place because of improperly prepared puffer fish. If the organs containing the toxin are damaged or not completely removed, that dish might be the last one you ever eat. Me, I’d stick with chicken nuggets. They’ll eventually kill you, but it’ll take decades.” He grinned.

  Decker did not smile back. “Was it ingested, inhaled, or absorbed?” he said.

  “If I had to make an educated guess, I’d say ingested.”

  “So it might have been in something he drank?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why poison a guy and then kill him with carbon monoxide?” asked Kelly.

  “To incapacitate him and get him into the car,” replied Jamison. “That way it looks like a suicide.” She looked at the machine that Reynolds had used to find the poison. “And without that, we’d probably never have known. Walt Southern for sure would never have found it.”

  “And a murder would have been missed,” added Decker. He glanced at Reynolds. “You said you’d handled a case of TTX before. Where was that, exactly?”

  “The vic was found in a hotel room in Brisbane.”

  “Brisbane, Australia?”

  “Puffer fish are found in those waters, and those in Asia. They’re not indigenous to American waters.”

  They thanked Reynolds and walked back outside.

  “Australia,” said Decker again, looking thoughtful.

  “What about it?” said Kelly.

  “Hugh Dawson lives there part of the year, right? During the winters here?”

  Kelly looked taken aback. “Okay but we already went over this. What would the motive be? He just made a ton of money off McClellan.”

  “I don’t know what the motive might be. I’m just saying he had the means and the opportunity. And I don’t like coincidences. And here we have a big one.”

  Jamison said, “Namely, a very rare poison that is found in fish in waters off Australia and a person here who lives there part of the time.”

  “And the opportunity comes from the fact that he was one of the last people to see McClellan alive and he has no alibi for the time he was killed,” added Decker.

  “But you’d think he’d have tried to come up with an alibi,” remarked Kelly. “I mean, the TOD on carbon monoxide poisoning is never going to be to the minute. He could have stuck the guy in the car and then gone someplace where there were other people to see him.”

  “But he probably assumed it would never be seen as anything other than a suicide,” countered Decker. “So why bother with an alibi?”

  Kelly didn’t look convinced by this, but he said, “Look, I know this toxin stuff casts a whole new light on things. There has to be more to it than suicide, I’ll agree with you on that. So you want to go talk to Hugh again?”

  “Yeah, and right now would be a good time.”

  “And what about Shane?” asked Decker.

  “We checked his alibi. At all relevant times he was out of town getting fracking supplies a good five hours from here. People where he was confirmed it. I told you he had nothing to do with it.”

  “Well, that’s something,” said Decker.

  “Joe!”

  They turned to see Caroline Dawson striding toward them, a fierce look on her features.

  “Oh boy, she does not look happy,” said the detective nervously.

  She reached them and she stood face-to-face with Kelly. “You son of a bitch.”

  “What did I do?” he said, taking a step back.

  “My father sold out to McClellan, everything. And you knew all about it. And you didn’t tell me? I thought we were friends.”

  “Caroline, look, we, I mean, you have to understand—” He looked desperately at Decker for help.

  Decker said, “We were the ones to find out, and then we told Joe.”

  Caroline didn’t take her eyes off Kelly. “So you did know? Just say it, you did know?” />
  “Yes, I did.”

  “And Maddie’s, too? That’s gone as well?”

  “Yes. Look, I was going to tell you but your father said—”

  “Thanks for nothing.” She slapped him, turned, and strode off.

  Kelly rubbed his cheek where she had hit him. “Did I mention that she has a temper?”

  “Boy, I would not want to be her father,” said Jamison.

  “Speaking of, let’s go talk to him right now,” said Decker. “There might be nothing left of him by the time Caroline finishes with him. We need to beat her to it.”

  ON THE DRIVE OUT, Decker asked Kelly, “What made Shane come back here?”

  Kelly eyed him. “This was his hometown.”

  “I understand that he was close to his mother but she had died by then, correct?”

  “She had, yeah.”

  “And he didn’t really care for his father. So why come back here and work for the guy?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Because I’m asking you. You’re his friend.”

  “What does it matter why he came back?”

  “Right now everything matters.”

  Kelly sat up straighter and stared out the window. “Shane never talked about the war with me. I only found out from other guys he served with. There were a couple that visited him here. We all went out, had some drinks, ate a bunch of red meat, and watched some football. Guy stuff, you know.”

  “And what did they say?” asked Jamison.

  “That Shane was really brave. That he was a good leader. That he cared about his guys more than he cared about himself. He was a Ranger, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” said Jamison.

  “Yeah. He was a sergeant when he came out. He could have stayed in and worked his way up higher, I guess. But he didn’t.”

  “Maybe he wanted to see someone here,” said Decker suggestively.

  Kelly continued to look out the window. “If you’re thinking of Caroline, I won’t disagree with you.”

  “But it seems unrequited,” said Jamison.

  “Even though their dads are both rich, they’re from two different worlds. Shane is a ‘beer and shoot a deer’ kind of guy. Caroline could be plopped in the middle of Paris and do just fine.” He paused and rubbed at his cheek. “The truth is she left us both in the dust a long time ago.”

  “But that doesn’t mean a guy has to give up trying,” said Decker.

  “No, it doesn’t,” said Kelly slowly. “But as the years go by, it is an effort with diminishing returns.”

  Decker wondered if Kelly was just talking about Shane or himself.

  * * *

  “Okay, that does not look good. It’s like Hal Parker’s place all over again.”

  Jamison said this as they pulled into the front of Dawson’s house. The door was standing wide open.

  They hustled up to the porch.

  Kelly peered inside the doorway and called out, “Hugh? Everything okay?”

  There was no answer.

  Kelly said, “At this time of the night all the hired help has long since gone home.”

  He pulled his gun and rushed inside. They drew their weapons and followed him in.

  “Hugh!” cried out Kelly. “Hugh, you here? Everything okay? Answer me!”

  They moved slowly down the hallway, taking time to clear each room before they passed by it.

  They heard nothing and saw no one.

  They finally reached the door to Dawson’s office. It wasn’t open, but Kelly tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. He tapped on the door. “Hugh, it’s Joe Kelly.”

  There was no answer.

  He turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door.

  They all looked into the room, their gazes moving from one section to the next until they stopped at the desk.

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed Kelly.

  “Oh my God,” echoed Jamison.

  Decker said nothing. He gingerly moved toward the desk, avoiding the obvious debris on the floor, and stared down at Hugh Dawson, or what was left of him.

  The room had now taken on an electric blue shade for Decker as the pall of death cascaded all over the room.

  I guess that sensation is going to continue to come and go, he thought.

  It had been a particularly violent death.

  The man was slumped in his chair with most of his head gone. The desk, chair, floor, and walls were covered with blood and bits of the deceased man.

  Kelly and Jamison joined him, taking care not to impact the crime scene.

  Decker ran his gaze down the weapon that had done this level of damage. The Remington side-by-side lay on the desk. It had been perched on top of a pile of books and then secured using masking tape. The muzzle was angled up and pointed at the dead man. Decker noted the line of string running from the triggers around the butt of the weapon and then back to where Dawson sat. There it dropped off the edge of the desk and into the kneehole. The man had apparently used the twine to pull the triggers, ending his life, without a doubt.

  Decker examined blood and bits on the floor in front of the desk and on the sides.

  Kelly shook his head. “I can’t believe this. First Stuart dead, and now Hugh?”

  Jamison managed to maneuver herself close enough to the desk to see a piece of paper lying there. It was covered with blood and other matter.

  “It’s a suicide note,” she said in a hushed voice.

  “What does it say?” asked Decker.

  “It says he killed himself because he felt guilty for murdering Stuart McClellan.”

  None of them said anything for a long moment as this revelation sank in.

  “Does he give a reason for murdering the guy?” asked Kelly, who was standing behind her.

  “No. Just that he admits it and felt badly afterward.”

  They heard footsteps behind them.

  They all turned to see Caroline Dawson rush into the room.

  She looked around and then saw them by the desk. Her gaze reached her father’s body and then moved to his destroyed face. Every muscle in her body tensed, she turned deathly pale, stopped moving forward, and screamed hysterically. A moment later she tottered to the side and collapsed to the floor unconscious, hitting her head on the side of the chair on the way down.

  And she didn’t move after that.

  KELLY SAID, “Caroline is going to be fine. They’ve checked her out. No internal bleeding, but she is concussed. They’re just keeping her for observation. But it could have been a lot worse. She hit her head really hard when she fell.”

  He finished the cup of weak coffee he’d bought from the hospital café, tossed it in the trash, and sat down next to Jamison in the visitors room. Decker was leaning against the wall.

  Kelly said, “We’ve showed the note to several of Dawson’s associates. They said it looked like his handwriting.”

  “I guess it’s probably legit, then,” said Jamison.

  “So he blew his head off from guilt,” muttered Kelly. “I never would have believed he had anything to do with McClellan’s murder.”

  “Maybe Caroline will have some ideas about that.”

  “I doubt she knew this was coming. You saw her reaction.”

  “No, I meant whether she knew why her father would want to kill McClellan.”

  “Right. Look, the guys have been business rivals for years, that’s no secret. But that’s all it was: business. And why now? After they closed this big deal?”

  “That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question,” said Decker.

  “Well, I’ve got to do the paperwork on this back at the station,” said Kelly.

  “And we’ll go back out to the crime scene,” replied Decker.

  A moment later Liz Southern walked in looking breathless and distressed. She had on pale blue slacks, a dark brown blouse, and flat shoes. Her hair was tied up in a bun.

  “Is Hugh really dead?”

  “I’m afraid so.”
/>
  “But how?”

  “Looks like suicide,” replied Kelly. “He left a note.”

  Southern looked gobsmacked. “Why would Hugh kill himself?”

  “We have to figure that out.”

  “Why are you here?” asked Decker. “And how did you know about Hugh?”

  Kelly said, “I called her and told her what had happened.”

  “Where is Caroline?” said Southern. “Is she going to be all right?”

  Kelly said, “She’s in room two-oh-three. She’s going to be fine,” he added when Southern looked concerned.

  “Can I go and sit with her? I can’t imagine what she must be going through.”

  “I see no reason why you can’t. She probably needs someone with her. In fact, that’s why I called you.”

  “Thanks.” She hurried off.

  After Kelly left, Jamison said, “Caroline is going to need more than a friend to see her through this. Seeing your father with his head missing? She’s going to need therapy.”

  “And lots of it,” noted Decker.

  * * *

  They left the hospital and drove back out to Dawson’s house. Two cops were there on duty. One of the patrolmen told Decker and Jamison that a forensic tech was inside.

  They put on booties and gloves and entered the house.

  Dawson had not been moved. The tech was still taking pictures.

  “Messy,” said the young man, who had identified himself as Ryan Leakey.

  “Shotgun blasts to the head usually are,” commented Jamison drily.

  Decker walked around the perimeter of the room, taking it all in.

  “Reynolds has already been by,” said Jamison, looking at her phone. “He just texted me a prelim on the time of death. Based on body temp, he died about an hour before we got here.”

  Decker nodded. “That’s important. It’s a tight enough time frame to eliminate people from the suspect list.” He moved closer to the corpse and examined the end of the string dangling in front of the dead man. “You got pics of the desk yet?” he asked Leakey.

  “Just one set.”

  “Do multiple sets, including one from directly above. From as high a point as you can.”