The Last Mile

  so.”

  Mars looked at her. “All those questions about my family, my father, or at least who I thought was my father. You were pumping me for information before they were going to execute me. You were trying to see if I knew where the stuff from the safe deposit box was.”

  “I worked my ass off for you.”

  Bogart said, “After Decker showed me the photo earlier, I did some digging. Your legal work was merely perfunctory. And when Melvin was rearrested, it was Decker who saved him in court, not you. And I also checked on the ‘lawsuit’ you filed against the state of Texas on Melvin’s behalf. Never happened.”

  “I guess being a disciple of a racist like McClellan, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually help a black guy,” noted Decker. “But all that’s beside the point. We have you for the kidnapping. That’s twenty to life in a federal pen. And if Davenport’s dead, you could be looking at the death penalty.”

  “You have no proof! And the lawsuit in Texas? It’s not like I’m being paid by this guy,” she added, hooking a thumb at Mars. “It was probably a filing error. I’ll be sure to rectify it,” she added with a smirk.

  Decker looked at Bogart. “She needs more persuading.”

  “We got a search warrant on your phone and online accounts.”

  “Based on what?” screamed Oliver.

  “Based on the fact that you are a close confidante of a principal player in our investigation. Coincidences that large don’t exist. The judge issuing the warrant agreed with our logic.”

  Decker said, “And there are four lengthy emails between you and McClellan. You were keeping him posted about our investigation. That right there is obstruction. There’s also a text where you use the initials LD and ask for the status of the person.” Decker leaned forward. “Now, if you still don’t think we have a case against you, get up and try to walk out of here.”

  “I want a lawyer.”

  “You haven’t been charged yet,” said Bogart. “So you’re not entitled to one.”

  Oliver gazed around at the others before dropping into her chair and glaring at Decker. “What the hell do you want?”

  “I want Lisa Davenport back safe and sound. You help us do that, and also help us nail McClellan and his buddies, then I think the DOJ will cut you a nice deal.”

  Oliver said nothing.

  Decker leaned forward more. “Is Lisa Davenport still alive?”

  Oliver said nothing.

  Decker abruptly stood. “Okay, Agent Bogart, I say charge her and arrest her. We’ll nail the Musketeers without her help and they all go to prison for life or get the needle, including her.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” said Bogart, who nodded at Milligan.

  Milligan gripped Oliver’s arm. “Please stand.”

  When she didn’t respond he jerked her to her feet. “Mary Oliver, you are under arrest for—”

  “Wait, wait,” she said, her breath accelerating.

  They all looked at her expectantly.

  “I…I don’t know if she’s still alive.”

  “Then I suggest you find out,” said Bogart. “And then tell us where she is.”

  “I…I don’t know where they took her. They wouldn’t tell me.”

  “You don’t seem to be trying,” said Decker. “If you want a deal, you need to earn it. You find out where she is.”

  Bogart said, “And we’ll be watching and listening to your every move. You so much as think about telling your buddies that you’ve been found out, I will find enough to charge you with that you won’t see the light of day ever again.”

  Oliver’s chin dropped to her chest and she started to quietly sob.

  Decker said dismissively, “We’ve got no time for that. If they haven’t killed Davenport yet, there’s no telling when they might. You need to act. Now.”

  “But how do I find out?” wailed Oliver.

  “I’ll tell you exactly how,” said Decker.

  CHAPTER

  70

  WHY THE HELL didn’t you tell me this before?” screamed McClellan into the phone.

  Oliver said, “I just found out about it, Roger. I called you immediately.”

  “She hypnotized Mars? And he told her things?”

  “Yes, that’s what I just heard from Decker.”

  “But you mentioned the things in the safe deposit box. Did he talk about them?”

  “Apparently, yes. Decker was going to meet with her to get some more information, but we’d taken Davenport by then.”

  “Shit. I’ve had her all this time and she might know? I mean really know?”

  “It’s certainly possible. So you need to talk to her.” She paused. “Please tell me she’s still…”

  “I’ll handle this,” snapped McClellan, and he hung up. He hustled out of the building and jumped into his car.

  * * *

  It was a full hour’s drive to the small farmhouse in the middle of a hundred acres that McClellan had inherited from his father. He skidded the car to a stop in front of the frame house with a falling-in porch. There was another car parked out front.

  A man appeared at the door as McClellan rushed up to it. “Got your call,” he said. He was short and broad-shouldered with thick hands. A pistol was shoved into his waistband.

  McClellan pushed past him and into the front room. He crossed it in three strides and opened the door to the small bedroom.

  On a chair sat Davenport. She was bound, gagged, and blindfolded.

  McClellan pulled up another chair and sat facing her.

  She had tensed when the door opened, her spine rigid against the back of the chair.

  McClellan reached over and pulled the gag out. “We need to talk,” he said.

  Davenport licked her lips and swallowed several times. “I need some water.”

  McClellan grabbed a plastic bottle off a table, unscrewed the top, and held it up to her lips. She drank some, coughed, and then drank some more.

  McClellan said, “You hypnotized Melvin Mars?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “Not much.”

  “I need to hear it. In detail.”

  “I need to think. I’m just so tired.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulder and shook it. “Think faster.”

  He heard the footsteps and turned to see the other man standing there. He looked back at Davenport. Her clothes were dirty, her face the same. There was a bruise on her cheek and a cut on her forehead. She was thinner, pale, and her voice hoarse from disuse.

  “Why are you doing this?” she said. “Please, I don’t know anything. Just let me go.”

  McClellan slid out his service pistol and placed it against her temple. She stiffened when she felt the metal against her skin.

  He said, “Just compose yourself and tell me what he told you. Then we’ll talk about your future.”

  Trembling, Davenport recounted for him what Mars had said under hypnosis.

  “That’s it?” he said when she was finished.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And you’re not holding anything back?” He pressed the gun muzzle harder against her temple.

  “I swear to God I’m not.”

  McClellan removed the gun and slid it back into his holster. He looked at her closely, trying to piece together in his head what all of this meant.

  He heard the other man move behind him.

  “Okay, we need to take care of her,” said McClellan. “And we need to do it right now.”

  “I think we got that covered,” said the voice.

  McClellan jerked around to see Agent Bogart standing there with his gun pointed at him.

  The other man was being cuffed by Milligan.

  Decker, Mars, and Jamison came into the room.

  Bogart said to McClellan, “Stand up and put your hands on your head. You even think about going for the gun I’ll drop you right here. With great pleasure.”

  McClellan slowly
stood and put his hands on his head.

  Davenport cried out, “Agent Bogart?”

  Mars and Jamison hurried over and untied her, sliding off the blindfold. Her eyes were puffy and she blinked rapidly to adjust to the light. Assisted by Mars, she rose on shaky legs.

  McClellan only had eyes for Decker. As Milligan came over and cuffed him, he screamed, “You fat son of a bitch. You used Oliver to trick me.”

  “Yes, we did,” said Decker. “She’ll get a better deal. And you can too. If you give up the other two Musketeers.”

  McClellan lunged, trying to get to Decker, but Milligan tackled him from behind.

  Bogart said, “You’re only going to hurt yourself, McClellan, so cool it. We have a transport vehicle coming to get you and your friend here.”

  They walked out into the sunshine. As they waited for the vehicle to arrive, Decker said, “They’d give you up in a minute if the positions were reversed, you understand that, right? Do they even know you kidnapped Davenport?”

  McClellan turned to look at him. “What the hell do you know about anything?”

  “I know you three bombed a church and an NAACP office.”

  McClellan sneered. “You don’t know jack about shit.” He spit on the ground next to Decker’s boots.

  “If you give them up your time in prison will go down, maybe not by much, but at least it’s something. And why should Eastland and Huey get a free pass?”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about. Fine, upstanding men, both of ’em.”

  “So you’re really willing to take the fall alone?”

  “What fall? I came up here with my friend over there to check on my place and found this lady all tied up,” he added, indicating Davenport. “I was about to untie her when you boys showed up.”

  “That’s not her story.”

  “He said, she said. Or we said, she said.”

  “You know that no one is going to buy that bullshit,” said Bogart.

  Milligan added, “And we have Mary Oliver. She fingered you.”

  “I don’t know what she told you, but it’s all crap.”

  “We recorded her call with you. That’s why you came up here.”

  “Well, that’s why we have trials, I guess. To get to the truth. And in Cain, folks will believe me.”

  “Well, I doubt we’ll try this in Cain,” said Bogart.

  “What we got lawyers for. So I’ll post bail, but don’t worry, I’ll be around for the trial. I’m a highly decorated police chief with strong ties to the community. Not one mark on my record. I’m not a flight risk,” he added, with a tiny smile tacked onto his words.

  Milligan said, “Gotta hand it to the asshole, he talks a good game.”

  Decker said, “Despite what you may think, Chief McClellan, we have you dead to rights on the kidnapping. You’re going to prison for the rest of your life. Now is your opportunity to ensure that your two buddies get the same treatment. I’m sure the FBI can arrange for you three to go to the same prison. The Three Musketeers in orange jumpsuits. Think about that visual.”

  The transport vehicle cleared a rise in the land and rumbled to a stop near them.

  Bogart said, “Let’s go.”

  He reached out to grip McClellan’s arm.

  The round impacted McClellan directly in the forehead, tattooing a third eye there. He fell back against Bogart and then dropped to the ground.

  Milligan pulled his weapon. Mars grabbed Jamison and Davenport and pushed them to the dirt.

  Decker looked at McClellan’s body, blood from his head wound pooling around him. Then he launched himself toward the other man, who stood there, shell-shocked.

  The second round hit the cuffed man in the chest and blew out between his shoulder blades. He fell back against Decker, who had felt the wake of the bullet as it exited the man’s back before slamming into the dirt.

  McClellan’s buddy slid down to the ground. He had died the second the bullet ripped into his heart.

  Two dead men lay on the ground along with six people who were still alive, for now.

  The two agents in the transport vehicle had leapt from the front seats and taken cover behind it. “The shots came from over there,” one of them called out, pointing to the east.

  Bogart called back, “Get us some reinforcements up here. And dial a chopper up and see if they can track whoever it is.”

  But as Decker lay in the dirt with the dead man draped over him, he already knew that it was too late.

  CHAPTER

  71

  DAVENPORT WAS IN a hospital where she would stay overnight to be checked out thoroughly. It seemed that she would make a quick and full recovery, at least physically. The mental and emotional part might take a while.

  Jamison and Milligan were there with her now, along with several other FBI agents. They were taking no chances that anything else would happen to her.

  McClellan and the other man were in the local morgue.

  Their killer had gotten clean away. By the time reinforcements arrived at that remote area of Mississippi, Decker figured he could have walked to Tennessee.

  Now he, Bogart, and Mars were sitting around a table in an office at the morgue contemplating the loss of their prime witness.

  “Oliver can’t tie anything to Huey and Eastland,” said Bogart. “She never met with them, never had any contact with them in any way. It all went through McClellan.”

  “I’m sure that was intentional,” said Decker. “Eastland and Huey had a lot more to lose. But they were far smarter and more sophisticated than the late police chief. He was their attack dog, nothing more.”

  “We’re looking into all of his stuff, but his computer was mostly empty and he apparently didn’t write anything down. Whatever communication he had with the other two Musketeers must have been face-to-face.”

  “And it’s a long road filled with potholes trying to connect the dots on this,” noted Decker. “Particularly for crimes nearly fifty years old.”

  Mars absently nodded at this comment but said nothing.

  Decker said, “They had McClellan and his partner killed, of course. They must have been watching him, or us. McClellan runs out of his office and they follow him up here. Or maybe Eastland and Huey knew about this place. McClellan’s dad left it to him. McClellan might have told them he was keeping her here.”