THEY WERE BACK in Texas.
But they still had over five hundred miles and another eight hours–plus to go.
Everything in Texas was big.
It was dinnertime and they were both starving. And they had to use the restroom.
Decker pulled off the highway and into the parking lot of a huge facility that had a bar-and-grill component as well as a grocery store and a gift shop. The parking lot was pretty full, mostly with oversized pickup trucks sporting gun racks in the back and semis pulling double trailers.
They could hear the music blaring twenty feet from the door to the place.
They went inside, hit the bathroom, and then made their way to an open table near the back and away from the bar and live music. They ordered drinks and their food.
Mars looked around at the men and women, many wearing cowboy hats and boots, line dancing. Off to the right was a pool hall. To the left was a video game arcade.
When the live band took a break they could hear the smack of pool balls and the trash talk of the men playing. Decker noted a group of young men with pool cues in one hand and beers in the other watching them. When he looked away he saw Mars take a sip of his beer and smile.
“What?” asked Decker.
“Haven’t had a beer in twenty years, man.”
“Right.”
Decker took a drink of his water.
Mars eyed him in amusement. “How’s the diet coming?”
“It’s coming.”
“Trying to get back in football shape?”
“No, trying to live to celebrate another birthday.”
Mars’s smile faded. “Yeah, me too.” He looked at his watch. “The girls will be back by now.”
“They actually landed six hours ago. I tracked their flight on my phone.”
“You can do that?” said Mars. “On a phone?”
“You have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Yeah. So what do you think they can do?”
“Find out what’s been going on. The local police still think we’re FBI. So we can coordinate with them.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to take you back to your old house, let you look around. It might jog something.”
“And if I don’t want to go there?”
“Then you don’t go. I’m not going to force you.”
“What else?”
“Bogart is running down the Witness Protection angle. We’re still going to try to trace the funds Regina used to buy all that stuff.”
“Okay.”
“You remember anything else about your parents?”
“Been thinking about it, but nothing’s come yet.”
“So maybe a trip back to the old homestead is in order.”
“Maybe.”
“It was an elaborate setup, you know. They paid off the girl and the motel clerk.”
“Come again?”
“Ellen Tanner. She was part of it. It was her idea to meet that night at her place, right?”
“Well, yeah.”
“And she kept you a certain amount of time. Then had the argument and then you left. And she lied about the time. And she checked your wallet when you weren’t looking and cleaned out any cash you might have had, so you’d have to use your credit card.”
“Why would she do all that?”
“Same reason Regina did. She was paid to do it.”
“And the motel clerk?”
“He was waiting for you.”
“How did he even know my car would break down right in front of his place?”
“A car that worked perfectly the next morning when the police showed up?”
“So you’re saying they messed with my car?”
“Maybe while you were at Tanner’s.”
“But wait a minute, I heard the clerk call in the credit card info.”
“Yeah, at about eleven or so when you actually got there. Only he wasn’t talking to the credit card company. He might have been talking to a dial tone for all I know. Doesn’t matter. He probably wrote down the credit card info and then made another call later, at about one-fifteen, to the credit card company so that the official record reflected that as your check-in time. The manual machine he ran it through doesn’t have a time stamp of course. He just wrote in the date, not the hour or minute. But he had to call the card company, so they have a time record of the call. And voilà, your alibi goes out the window.”
Mars put down his beer. “Sonofabitch!”
“Yeah, I was thinking that too. Sonofabitch.”
“That’s a lot of work. A lot of planning.”
“And that means there had to be a really good reason.”
Decker bit into some of his salad with no dressing.
“How is it?” asked Mars, eyeing the lettuce, cucumbers, and carrot strips.
“Actually, I’d rather be eating a turd.”
Mars snorted and waited for him to finish the bite.
Decker said, “They framed you in an elaborate conspiracy, and then they got you out of prison. Why?”
“If it’s the same people.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“Then like you said, why?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, Melvin. Why?”
They finished eating, paid the bill, and left. On their way to the car Decker said, “Shit.”
Mars shot him a glance. “What is it?”
Before Decker could answer, the same men who had been watching them inside appeared from in between two parked cars. They quickly surrounded the pair. It was five versus two, and the other men were in their twenties, tall, muscular, and tough-looking.
Decker eyed the guy who seemed to be in the lead. “Can I help you?”
The biggest of them pointed at Mars. “You that dude got off death row, ain’t you? Saw you on the TV.”
Mars didn’t answer him.
“Hey, I’m talking to you, boy,” said the man.
Decker did not really want to deal with these punks, but he also didn’t want Mars to get really ticked and kill the guy. So he said, “Why don’t you go back to playing pool, okay?”
The man ignored him and kept staring at Mars. “You killed your parents and you’re outta prison? Tell me how that makes sense, asshole.”
Decker could see the expression on Mars’s face and didn’t like what he was seeing.
The lead guy continued. “They said you played football? Shit, I bet my little brother could run right over your ass, boy.”
Decker said to the man, “Just move on. Now!”
The man looked at him. “Who the hell are you telling me what to do?”
Decker held out his FBI cred. “This is who I am.” He opened his coat to show he had a gun. “And this gives me the right to tell you to back the hell off.”
The man looked at the FBI ID and then at the gun and his look became even more disgusted. “Hey, boy, is he your babysitter, or what?”
Decker saw Mars tense and he put a hand on his shoulder, though his gaze remained on the man. “Move on.”
The man looked back at his buddies. “You think that pussy is wetting his pants yet?” They all laughed.
“I said move on.”
Decker looked at Mars. “Just head to the car, I’ll deal with these guys.”
Mars looked at Decker as though he had lost his mind.
“Just go, Melvin!”
Mars reluctantly turned to walk off.
The man stepped forward and slapped the back of Mars’s head. Mars slowly turned back around as Decker looked at the man and said, “Do you have a death wish?”
The man said, “I think he’s got the death wish, man. Or he’ll wish he was dead once we’re done with him.”
Decker took a deep breath and glanced at Mars, who looked like a massive bull straining against the gate.
Decker swore again and turned to the man. “What’s your name?”
The man gave Decker a patronizing look. “Why? You gonna write me up?”
“No, I just like to know who I’m dealing with.”
“My name’s Kyle, asshole. And by the way, we don’t give a shit if you’re a Fed. That don’t mean nothing down here.” He opened his jacket to show a gun. “And just so you know, we all got guns too.”
“Okay, Kyle, you want to fight this guy, let’s set some ground rules.”
Kyle snorted. “Ground rules, what the—”
“Shut the fuck up!” roared Decker, who had just reached his limit with these guys.
Kyle froze.
Decker drew a calming breath and tried to pretend he was alone rather than in front of all of these people. He drew his weapon. “Rule number one, anybody pulls a gun, I will shoot you right in the nuts. Rule number two, you have to orally agree to what I’m about to recite.” He took out his phone and activated the video recorder function. Holding it up to capture his image, he said, “Regardless of the outcome of the fight, none of you will attempt to press charges against Mr. Mars for any reason, ever. If one or more of you dies, none of your survivors may make any legal claim, civil or criminal, against Mr. Mars.”
“Are you shitting me?” said Kyle.
“You can’t have a problem with any of that.”
“Why not?”
“Like you said, because he’s a pussy.” Decker pointed his phone at Kyle. “You have to say, ‘I agree.’”
The four other men looked at Kyle. He snapped, “I agree.”
The other men looked at each other and one by one they too said the same thing, but not with the same level of enthusiasm.
“Good,” said Decker. He eyed Kyle. “Now, give me a phone number of your next of kin.”
Kyle said warily, “What, why?”
Decker looked at Mars and then back at Kyle. “Because he’s gonna kill you, dumbass.”
Decker stepped back and nodded at Mars, who stepped right up to Kyle and said, “Throw the first punch.”
“Why?” barked Kyle.
“’Cause I don’t want nobody saying I started this.”
Kyle turned to look at his buddies, quietly mouthing instructions. Then without warning he whirled around and landed a haymaker right on Mars’s chin. Or he would have, if Mars hadn’t easily blocked the blow with his arm.
Kyle screamed and fell back a step. “You broke my damn ar—”
He didn’t finish the sentence, because Mars slammed his fist into Kyle’s face with such force that the man was lifted off his feet and landed unconscious on the pavement.
Kyle’s buddies had all jumped back and now looked down at him. Blood was coming out of his mouth, his nose was broken, and three of his teeth lay on the asphalt next to him.
“Next,” said Decker, looking expectantly at the other men.
The other guys hauled Kyle up and ran for it.
Decker holstered his gun and walked over to Mars. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. They strode to their car, climbed in, and drove off.
Mars rubbed his knuckles and looked out the window.
Decker eyed him and said, “Didn’t make up for it, did it?”
Mars shook his head. “Never does.”