“What is it?” asked Bogart when he noticed the distracted Decker.
“There’s only one road in or out of here. There is absolutely no cover for anyone to do a stakeout. It’s far enough off the main road so that whoever came and did this would have to risk leaving their car back there and make their way on foot. Otherwise, someone would have heard something. Or seen something.” He turned and looked at Bogart. “Did anyone see or hear anything?”
“I can sure find out.”
Bogart fast-walked over to a group of police officers who were huddled together near the destroyed duplex watching the firefighters pour more water on the remaining embers. He spoke with them for a few minutes and then came back over to Decker.
“They went house by house soon after they got here and took statements from everyone. No one saw or heard anything until the explosion occurred.”
Decker looked up and down the row of duplexes and the folks standing in front of each. “The duplex attached to Montgomery’s was vacant?”
Bogart nodded.
Decker looked up and down the duplex row again. “Any others vacant?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, there’re people standing in front of all these places except for that one.”
He indicated the fourth duplex down on the left. The lights were out and, as Decker had said, no one was standing outside it.
“There’s no car there, but that doesn’t mean anything. Not everyone who lives here has a car,” noted Bogart. “And the place might be vacant.”
Decker’s mind revolved back to both times they had been to visit Regina Montgomery. He had seen nothing when he had been here with Bogart. But last night he had seen a light on in that house and a car had been parked out front.
He told Bogart this and said, “The vehicle was a four-door tan Toyota Avalon. The license plates were not visible from where I was standing. But you can see ruts in the front of the house caused by the car’s wheels. They’re fresh.”
Bogart said, “Okay, that puts things in a different light. There might be someone there.”
“Let’s go see for ourselves,” said Decker. “And it would make sense to get some backup.”
He pulled his gun while Bogart motioned to one of the officers, who hurried over. After some whispered instructions the officer and his colleagues pulled their weapons and headed over to the darkened house. When they got there, they surrounded it. With Decker and Bogart behind the three officers in front, the lead cop pounded on the door, identified himself, and asked to be let in. No response came.
He called out one more time and then kicked the door in. The flimsy wood gave in on the first try. At the same instant the rear door was broken down and the two sets of cops flooded the small space.
A minute later the all-clear was given.
Decker and the others were allowed into the duplex.
There wasn’t much to see. It was empty. Not a stick of furniture or anything else.
“Doesn’t look like anyone was ever here,” said Davenport.
“But someone was,” said Decker.
CHAPTER
25
MARS KEPT SHAKING his head in disbelief.
“Somebody just killed her? Blew up her house?”
Decker nodded.
They were sitting in the lobby of the hotel with Jamison and Davenport.
“But you said her son is okay?” said Mars.
“He’s fine, other than losing both his parents on pretty much the same day.”
“And you really think someone murdered her?”
“If not, it’s the biggest coincidence I’ve ever seen. And I don’t even believe in little coincidences.”
“Do you know who might have done it?”
“Whoever was paying her off, with Cartier watches and expensive clothes, and promises of a better life with her son.”
“So you think Tommy might be in danger?” asked Jamison.
“Bogart has state troopers looking after him,” replied Decker. “I doubt his mother told him anything, but whoever killed her can’t be certain of that. It was clear when we spoke to Tommy that he just thought it was insurance money.”
Mars glanced at him. “What do we do now?”
At that moment Bogart walked into the room looking agitated and upset.
Jamison said, “What is it? Not another murder?”
Bogart shook his head and dropped into an unoccupied chair next to Davenport. “No, it’s not that,” he said, not meeting any of their gazes. “It’s actually more complicated.”
Decker eyed him closely. “You want to tell us?”
Bogart lifted his gaze to Decker’s. “I just got a call from D.C. We have been officially pulled from this case.”
“What?” exclaimed Jamison and Davenport simultaneously.
“Let me rephrase that. HQ does not see this as a case. Not an open one. Mr. Mars has been cleared. The real killer has confessed and paid the ultimate price. That’s it. They want us back home.”
“But what about Regina Montgomery’s death?” said Decker, still watching Bogart.
“Irrelevant, at least to them. An accident, nothing more. And certainly not the jurisdiction of the FBI.”
Mars looked around at each of them before his gaze settled on Bogart. “So what exactly does that mean, Agent Bogart?”
“That exactly means that we pack up and leave and head back to Quantico. I’m sorry for the way this has turned out. It’s not how I intended it to happen. I’ll let Milligan know. He can leave directly from Texas.”
“Well, he’ll be ecstatic about that,” said Decker dryly.
Bogart rose and held his hand out to Mars, who rose and shook it.
“I’m sorry to be leaving in this way, Mr. Mars. It’s not how I would have done it, if it were my choice. But I wish you the very best of luck.”
“Okay,” said a bewildered Mars. “Sure, thanks.”
Decker said, “Have a good trip, Agent Bogart.”
Bogart didn’t look that surprised. “So you’re not coming?”
“I don’t leave a case until it’s finished. So I’m staying here to see it through.”
“Decker, please listen to reason, you can’t do that,” said Bogart.
“I can do that. And I will do that.”
“But you work for—”
“I resign,” interrupted Decker.