The Fallen

by David Baldacci

  “Yes, he did. We spoke on the phone after you and your partner paid him a visit.”

  “Has he ever been here?”

  “Once or twice. Please don’t ask about particulars.”

  “He’s got some years on you.”

  “He’s actually one of the youngest people I know.”

  “You mean in spirit?” he said.

  She nodded. “He’s also kept himself in great shape. He was an athlete. You look like you were an athlete.”

  “I was, about a hundred pounds ago.”

  “Don’t you check for alibis?”

  “We do.”

  “Well, does John have an alibi for when those people were killed?”

  “The timelines were pretty broad on the four. But we’ll check that. Will you be providing him alibis?”

  “Depends on whether I was with him at the time in question, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes it does.”

  “You don’t believe he did it, do you?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe. It matters what the facts are.” He cocked his head at her. “Why do you stay here? You could own a bar in lots of places.”

  “Town’s coming back. You saw that on the drive here.”

  “Yes, but you said it was only coming back in parts.”

  “Better than not at all. I’ve kind of studied the economics of places like this. In any downturn in a small town you always see mom-and-pop operations start up because people lose their jobs, but not their spirit. Local restaurants, fitness centers, tattoo parlors, pawnshops, mani-pedi places, local movie theaters, bakeries, pet shops, stuff like that. People get by, they do what they have to do to survive. You look at Pittsburgh. They turned it around. From steel mill town to a health and financial services kind of place.”

  “Baronville is not Pittsburgh.”

  “We don’t need to be Pittsburgh. And we have the fulfillment center. It’s helped my business, I can tell you that. I’m up about thirty percent year over year for each of the last three years.”

  “Because after people work their butts off in that place, they need a drink?”

  “Bingo. And food because they’re too tired to cook for themselves.”

  “All the development we saw heading over here, that’s all mom-and-pop stuff? Looks like it involves more money than that.”

  She frowned. “I’ve lost several friends to overdoses. But the one good thing was they had life insurance. Their families got the money after they died, and many of them have opened businesses with it, or used some of the proceeds to invest in the town. The renovation of this building came about because several beneficiaries decided to pool their funds to get it done. And now it’s almost all sold.”

  “That’s great, turning a negative into a positive. But six unsolved murders. That’s not good for the town.”

  Her grin faded. “Six?”

  “Two more in an empty house. I found those.”

  “I think I read something about that. No real details, though. Can you enlighten me?”

  “No, I really can’t.”

  “Are they related to the other four?”

  “No idea.”

  “You seem to have far more questions than answers,” she noted.

  “That’s usually the case this early on. You ever been to Costa’s place here?”

  “Once. He had a dinner there to drum up banking relationships.”

  “You ever ask him why he would leave New York to come here?”

  “I did, actually. He was a good-looking guy, obviously smart. He had money and a good career there.”

  “So, what did he say?”

  “Something about following his dream.”

  “What kind of dream?”

  “I didn’t push it and he didn’t elaborate.”

  “Did he know Baron?”

  “I know you believe that he did, but not that I know of. I don’t think John has much use for banks.”

  “But he has a mortgage on his home with that bank.”

  “Does he?” she said innocently.

  “Yeah, he does. But he failed to mention that to me.”

  Decker pulled the photo of Baron and the Little League team from his pocket and held it up. “You ever see this in Costa’s condo?”

  She took it and looked at it. “Yeah, it was on a shelf with a bunch of others.”

  “Baron was the coach.”

  “I can see, Decker,” she said sharply. “He led the team to the state championship and then got canned by the powers that be.”

  “He told us that. Do you know why?”

  “I think it made him look too good and they couldn’t stand that.”

  She caught the writing on the back. “Stanley Nottingham. Who’s that?”

  “I don’t know. You ever heard of him?”

  She shook her head. “It’s funny, though.”

  “What is?”

  She handed the photo back. “I only know this because John mentioned it to me once. Even showed me a picture.”

  “Of what?”

  “No, of whom.”

  “Stanley Nottingham?” said Decker, looking perplexed.

  “No.” She took a moment to search her memory. “Not Stanley. Yeah, it was Nigel. Can you believe that? Nigel?”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “John showed me a photo of Nigel Nottingham. That’s why I remembered it. Don’t hear those two names much anymore. I mean, can you get any more British than that? But I guess it fit.”

  “You’ve still lost me,” groused Decker.

  “Nigel Nottingham was Baron’s butler.”

  “John’s butler?”

  “No! John can’t afford a butler. I’m talking about the original John Baron. He apparently wanted a full-fledged British butler, and Nigel Nottingham fit the bill.”

  Decker jumped up from his seat. “I gotta go, thanks.”

  He was out the front door of the condo before Cindi even got to her feet.

  “But, Decker, I drove you over here,” she called after him as the door slammed shut.

  Chapter 44

  WHAT IN THE world are you doing? Why are you packing?”

  Jamison was standing in the doorway of Decker’s bedroom as he stuffed some clothes and his toiletry bag into his duffel.

  “I gotta go somewhere.”

  “Go where? Back to D.C.?”

  “No, New Jersey.”

  She gaped. “New Jersey? Why?”

  “I’ve got a lead. A good one. Just happened a bit ago. From Cindi Riley.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “Decker, Frank’s funeral is the day after tomorrow. And you’re leaving? There’s so much to do.”

  “I’ll be back in time. I’m leaving now. I’ll get there early in the morning, do my thing, and be back late tomorrow.”

  “But my sisters are here now. And Frank’s parents and siblings will be here in the morning. I thought you could pick his parents up from the bus station. And one of his sisters too, she’s coming in by train. The others are driving directly here.”

  Decker stopped his packing. “I’m sure your sisters will help out. And just so you know, I have to take the rental.”

  “Wait a minute, you’re driving to New Jersey?”

  “Only way, really. I looked at flights. First one out of Pittsburgh is ten o’clock tomorrow morning, and it isn’t even direct. I have to connect through freaking Charlotte, if you can believe that. And there’s no train schedule that works and no bus service that does either. The quickest way is to drive it. I can be there in under seven hours.”

  “Okay, but you do realize what time it is? When exactly do you plan to sleep?”

  “I’m good. The adrenaline is pumping and I’ll get some shut-eye when I get there.”

  “Decker, this is not smart.”

  “I’ve got to go, Alex. I found out something tonight that I need to check out.”

  She sat down on the bed. “You said you had a lead from Cindi Riley. What is it?�
�

  He told her about Stanley and Nigel Nottingham and finding the name and address on the back of the photo in Costa’s condo.

  He handed the photo to her and she looked it over.

  “So let me get this straight—this Nigel Nottingham was Baron the First’s butler?”

  “Yeah. And I’m betting Stanley is his, I don’t know, great-grandson or something. That’s why Todd didn’t find a connection to Baronville. He only went back as far as Stanley Nottingham’s parents. He lived in the same building as Bradley Costa in New York. They were neighbors.”

  She handed back the photo. “So, what exactly is your theory?”

  “That Stanley Nottingham told Costa something about Baron and this town that made him pull up his roots in Manhattan and come here. Riley told me that Costa told her he came to Baronville to follow his dream, which struck me as really curious. Well, I’m hoping that Nottingham can tell me what that dream was.”

  Jamison rubbed her forehead, her features exhausted.

  “Okay, I can see how that might be important to the investigation. But can’t this wait until after the funeral?”

  “Stanley Nottingham is elderly and just moved to a nursing home. How do I know the guy won’t drop dead tomorrow? And if he does, there goes the only lead I have.”

  She snapped, “It’s always about the case, isn’t it? It always takes priority over everything. No matter what.”

  Decker stopped packing and looked at her. “It’s not like that, Alex.”

  “It’s always like that, Decker.”

  “But this is important.”

  She rose and walked back over to the door.

  “Fine, whatever. I’ll just hold down the fort here.”

  “Alex, I will be back. I promise.”

  “Yeah,” she said absently. “Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  Decker grabbed his overcoat from a chair. When he turned back she was gone. He heard a door close somewhere in the house.

  He zipped his duffel shut and hefted it over his shoulder. He made his way quietly downstairs.

  Only sitting on the last riser was Zoe, holding a stuffed cat.

  She looked up at him and her gaze fell on his duffel. “Are you going somewhere, Mr. Amos?”

  Decker’s first impulse was just to rush past the little girl and be on his way to New Jersey without explanation.

  But after looking at her disconsolate expression, his second impulse made him set his duffel down and sit next to her.

  “I am, Zoe. But I’ll be back. See, I have to go check on something in New Jersey. Have you ever been to New Jersey?”

  She shook her head. “Is it nice?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “What do you have to do there?”

  “Talk to someone. An older man.”

  “What about?”

  “He knew somebody here in town. So I just wanted to ask him some questions about the person.”

  “Is he a nice man?”

  “Well, I’ve never met him, but I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” He paused and studied her. “How are you doing?”

  She clutched her cat tighter. “My daddy’s funeral is the day after tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.

  “We’re going to bury him in the ground. That’s what Mommy said.”

  “I’ll be back in time to go with you.”

  “You promise?”

  “I promise.”

  Her features turned anxious. “Mr. Amos, do you think he’ll be cold? My dad? See, after Mommy told me that he was going to be buried, I got a big spoon from the kitchen and went out in the backyard and dug a hole. And I put my hand in it. And it was cold down there. And my daddy didn’t like to be cold. He would snuggle under the blanket with me. I don’t like the cold either.”

  Lending a visual to her words, she shivered.

  Decker leaned against the banister even as he felt his chest tighten and his throat constrict.

  “I know your blanket doesn’t have a name, but does your cat?”

  “His name is Felix. Aunt Alex gave him to me when I was five.”

  “Where’d you come up with that name?”

  “It was the name of my daddy’s dog when he was little. I thought if I named my cat Felix he wouldn’t miss him so much.”

  “That’s really nice, Zoe.”

  Her face wrinkled up and her eyes filled with tears. “I want my dad to be here.”

  “I know. And I know he would want to be here too, more than anything. He would never want to leave you.”

  Zoe leaned against his leg and he gently patted her head.

  They sat in silence for a few moments.

  “Do you remember I told you about my daughter?”

  “Molly.”

  “That’s right, Molly. Well, I didn’t really tell you the truth about her.”

  “You mean you lied?” said Zoe, sitting up, her eyes wide and staring at him.

  “No, not exactly. I just didn’t tell you…everything. The fact is, my daughter…My daughter…died right before she turned ten.”

  “Was she sick?”

  “No, she…she had an accident.”

  “Like Daddy did?”

  “That’s right. Anyway, we had a funeral for her and I had to bury her too. But I go back and visit her, you know, to check on her. And when I go there, I can…I can sense that she’s not cold. You can do that with people you love. So, I think that when you and your mom go to visit your dad, you’ll be able to sense that too. And by being there, you actually make things warm, because he’ll know that you’re with him. That people who love him are right there with him. Do you see?”

  She nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on him. “Can I talk to him when I visit?”

  “You absolutely can. Now, he won’t answer you back like he used to. But I can tell you that you’ll feel something right here.” He touched the center of his chest. “And that’s means that your dad is answering you back. And it goes right there, right to your heart. Because…that’s where you’ll always keep your dad now. Forever. Okay?”

  She nodded, leaned over, and gave his thick calf a hug.

  “I’ll see you when you get back, Mr. Amos.”

  “You can just call me Amos.”

  “Okay, Amos.”

  Decker lifted his duffel and left.

  He did not see Jamison standing at the top of the stairs.

  She had heard the entire exchange and was quietly sobbing while holding on to the railing to steady herself.

  When Zoe started up the stairs, she saw her aunt and ran up to her and flung her arms around her legs. As Jamison continued to shake, Zoe said, “Aunt Alex, are you okay? Are you sad?”

  Jamison stroked her niece’s hair.

  With tears streaming down her face, she managed to say, “I’m okay, Zoe. I’m really okay now.”

  Chapter 45

  AT NINE O’CLOCK in the morning Decker’s phone alarm went off.

  He sat up in the driver’s seat of his rental, yawned, and looked around.

  He’d arrived at the nursing home around six in the morning, parked on the street, and settled down to catch a few hours of sleep. He drove to a nearby McDonald’s, cleaned up, and changed into fresh clothes in the bathroom. He ate a breakfast sandwich and downed a cup of coffee.

  He drove back to the Glenmont Senior Living Center and went inside.

  The lobby was large and inviting, with sunlight blazing in through numerous windows. The whole place looked fairly new. It had comfortable seating areas with upholstered chairs, a large reception desk of polished wood, and wallpaper with a soothing flower-and-vine design.

  An efficient-looking young woman was seated at the front desk. She looked up as Decker approached.

  “Can I help you?”

  He pulled out his creds and badge and held them up. “FBI. I need to speak with one of your patients.”

  “We call them residents,” she said, eyeing his badge. “Can
I ask what this is about?”

  “I’m investigating a series of murders in Pennsylvania. It’s come to our attention that one of your residents, Stanley Nottingham, may have known one of the victims when he lived in New York.”

  “I think I need to get my supervisor.”

  “Do what you have to do, but don’t keep me waiting long. I’m on a deadline.”

  She hurried off and came back less than a minute later accompanied by a tall, stout man with thick dark hair. He wore a pinstripe suit along with an important expression.

  “I’m Roger Crandall, the executive director. What seems to be the issue?”

  Decker explained why he was here.

  “Don’t you need a warrant or something like that?” asked Crandall.

  “No, I don’t. Mr. Nottingham isn’t a suspect or a person of interest. But he could be a material witness in a murder investigation. And I have every right to talk to him.”

  “I think I might have to call the company lawyer on this. Can you come back another time?”

  In response Decker took out his notebook. “Is that Crandall with two l’s? I’ve seen it spelled with one and just want to make sure.”

  “It’s with two. But why are you asking?”

  “My boss at the FBI gets pissed when anyone misspells a name on the arrest warrant.”

  Crandall took a step back. “Arrest warrant? For me!” he added shrilly. “Why?”

  “Well, you’re the one obstructing justice, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t believe that I am.”

  “I already told you that your resident is not a suspect or person of interest. He has no criminal liability. But he may be a material witness. And you will find that the FBI has a right at any time to speak to a material witness. But if you won’t let me do so, then you are committing a federal crime, which, by the way, has a five-year minimum sentence in a federal penitentiary.” He eyed the man’s natty attire. “And for what it’s worth, you look better in pinstripes than you would in an orange jumpsuit.”

  Crandall gazed stupidly at Decker for a long moment and then said, “I’ll take you to Mr. Nottingham myself.”

  Decker made a show of tearing the page with Crandall’s name on it out of his notebook, wadding it up, and tossing it into a nearby wastebasket.

  “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  As they walked down the hall, Decker said, “What can you tell me about Nottingham? I understand he came here recently.”