Memory Man

“I wanted to see you. Let you know that I was still working the case. And Miller called me. He knew I went with you to the institute and that I was with you when you found Sizemore.”

“So?”

Miller appeared from around the corner. “So I thought another pair of fresh eyes on this sucker can’t hurt. I’m not too proud to ask for help.” He pointed at the two of them. “So why don’t you get to it?”

“She’s not on the force.”

“Neither are you,” shot back Jamison.

“Where’s Lancaster?” asked Decker.

“Where she should be, with her family. Now go!”

Decker reluctantly led Jamison back to the room and they started going back over the statements given to the police. Both were from neighbors of the Lancasters.

An old woman and a dog.

And a dog. Nonthreatening. Something folks would just gloss over, not remember unless specifically asked.

He dialed up his DVR and went back over the canvassing reports from his neighborhood that the police had undertaken after the murders of his family.

No old woman with a dog. But there had been an old man seen out for a stroll. He had been described as slightly bent, feeble, supported by a cane and totally at odds with the violent slaughter that had occurred that night, no doubt perpetrated by a strong homicidal man in his prime.

Totally innocuous. Nobody gave him a second thought. Nobody wondered who he was. Or why he was there that night.

Including me.

There had been no forced entry at the Lancasters’. They’d apparently walked right in.

An old woman in disguise. An old man in disguise. His killer seemed to be a true chameleon.

Decker glanced back at the file on the Lancasters.

Walked right in.

He thought back to last night. The house had been neat and tidy. Mary had been working impossible hours. Earl, he knew, while a competent contractor, had his hands full with their daughter, Sandy. He didn’t see the guy vacuuming, dusting, and doing the dishes every five minutes.

He rose from the table and headed out. He had questions that needed answers. He had apparently forgotten that Jamison was even there until she said, “Where are we going?”

“I’m going somewhere. I don’t know where you’re going.”

“But I’m safer with you, right?”

Decker struggled to find a reply to this but then just gave up.

Jamison held up her keys. “And unlike you, I have a car.”

“No, you have half a car.”

Decker stalked out, with Jamison scurrying after him.

* * *

Against her wishes, Lancaster also had been placed in protective custody and was staying in a house rented by the FBI and guarded both by local Burlington cops and Bureau agents.

Decker cleared the security and entered the house with Jamison. Little Sandy had run forward and thrown her arms around Decker’s legs. Not knowing what else to do, he had patted her on the head until she let go, stared straight up at him, and said, “You’re Amos Decker!”

“I know I am. And you’re Sandra Elizabeth Lancaster.”

She had wagged a finger at him. “I know I am.” Then she ran off, with her bedraggled father trying to keep up behind her.

Decker and Jamison had sat down opposite Lancaster, who eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you here?”

“Like Decker here, I’m a consultant on the case.”

“I never knew a case to have so many consultants,” said Lancaster. Then she settled her gaze on Decker. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing,” said Decker.

“Those heartless pricks. What they did at my house. Re-create your crime scene.”

Jamison shot Decker a startled look.

“You didn’t know?” asked Lancaster.

“No,” said Jamison quietly.

“Fortunately for us, they used mannequins instead of real people,” said Lancaster. She shivered, took out a pack of smokes, and then put them away again. Decker eyed her. She said, “I’m trying to quit. For Sandy’s sake.”

“Secondhand smoke?” said Jamison.

“No, I never smoke in the house or car. I meant I wanted to be alive to see her grow up. Especially after…”

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a tissue, and dabbed at her eyes as she looked away, embarrassed.

She stuffed the tissue back into her pocket and said, “I don’t want to be here. I want to be working the case. Those bastards came into my house and did that. I want them more than I’ve wanted anyone in my whole career.”

“Did you or Earl hire a cleaning service for your house?” Decker asked.

She looked puzzled. “A cleaning service?”

“I know how security-conscious you are, especially with Sandy. How she got out of the house that one time and you didn’t find her for hours.”

“What is your point, Decker?” she snapped.

“No forced entry at your house. They just walked in, Mary. I wonder how that could be, unless someone had a key. Earl and Sandy had gone out. He locked up, right?”