The Last Mile

  Decker kept checking the rearview mirror. “He said he had eyes on us, but I don’t see anyone back there.”

  “Maybe he was bluffing.”

  “He didn’t strike me as a bluffer.”

  Mars looked back too. “They could be driving with their lights off.”

  “Maybe.”

  Mars directed him to three more turns, and they finally ended at a tumbledown house set well off the road and that didn’t have a neighbor for about a mile.

  “Well, this is about as lonely and creepy as it gets,” noted Mars as they pulled to a stop in front.

  Decker said, “I don’t see another car.”

  A second later from the side of the house a pair of car lights flashed on and then off.

  Decker and Mars climbed out of the car.

  The car door on the other vehicle opened and there stood Roy Mars.

  As he stepped forward into the moonlight they could see he was dressed in faded dungarees, an overcoat, flannel shirt, and work boots. The gun he held in his right hand was large and pointed at them.

  Decker stepped forward and said, “I don’t think there’s a need for that.”

  “How about the gun in your waistband, Decker? I can see the bulge from here. Even with your big gut.”

  “It’s not as big as it used to be.”

  “Congratulations. Pull it out muzzle first.”

  Decker did so and handed it across to Roy.

  “Inside,” Roy said.

  He followed them in.

  The room was small and smelled of mildew and rot. Roy stepped past them and turned a knob on a camp lantern that sat on an overturned packing crate. The room was instantly illuminated, the light throwing shadows across the space.

  Roy tucked Decker’s gun in his pocket and leaned back against the wall. “So, you got the skirt back.”

  “And how did you hear about Davenport?” asked Decker.

  “I didn’t. It was a deduction based on the reports of Sheriff Roger McClellan getting blown away at his old man’s farm outside Cain. It said nothing of any dead woman. So, you got her back?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mac’s dead. So you got what you came for. So why dial me up?”

  “There are still two more unaccounted for,” said Decker. “That’s why.”

  “You can’t expect to get everything you want in life. Doesn’t work that way. Just ask Mellow here.”

  “Then why did you agree to meet with us?” asked Mars.

  “Curiosity got the better of me, I guess.”

  “I think it’s more than that,” said Decker. “You were once part of the team, maybe the unofficial fourth Musketeer, but then you turned against them.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  In answer Decker took out the page he had earlier torn from the yearbook back at Cain High School.

  “You’re the fourth from the left, Aaron Callahan.”

  “What?” exclaimed Mars, staring at the page.

  “Roy Mars is actually Aaron Callahan. You’ve changed, of course, Roy, but it’s easy to see that it’s you and that you went to Cain High with the Three Musketeers.”

  “That’s good, Decker. How’d you figure that out?”

  “We found two sets of initials on the inside of your bedroom closet back in Texas. AC and RB. I ripped those pages out of the class pictures in the yearbook that had the last names beginning with ‘C’ and ‘B.’ Didn’t recognize anyone with the last name beginning with ‘B’ as you. But I did with ‘C.’ So RB must’ve been the initials for Lucinda’s real name.”

  “Roxanne Barrett.” Roy looked at Mars. “That was your mother’s real name. But she liked Lucinda better.”

  “How did you pick Mars as your last name?” asked Decker.

  Roy grinned. “Always liked the red planet, even when I was a kid. Seemed cool.”

  Decker nodded. “You were on the football team with them. Left tackle, which means you guarded Huey’s blindside. He was the QB.”

  “Guy was a mediocre signal caller that we made look good. McClellan was a rabid dog fullback and safety on the D-side. The kind who’d take a bite out of your leg in a pileup. Eastland was the slick scatback. Never went over the middle on pass routes, and on running plays he’d always run out of bounds before he got nailed. Prick didn’t like to get hit. A real pussy. But he was good-looking and smart and came from money and he was obviously going places, so the girls dropped their panties when he showed up anywhere. He and Thurman. But that was because of the old man. He was the big dog in Mississippi. Everybody knew him.”

  Decker said, “Huey Sr. was an all-around racist. Segregation now and forever, like George Wallace said.”

  “Hey, back then in Mississippi those were all positives. Maybe they still are in some quarters.”

  “You grew up with these pricks?” said Mars.

  “Well, everyone has to grow up somewhere. But I never ran in their circles. I had the wrong pedigree.”

  “And you helped them bomb those two places?”

  “I told you before, Mellow. I see no need to repeat myself.”

  Decker said, “And you have the evidence to bury them. Which is why you disappeared after the bombings.”

  “I chose to leave.”

  “Why?”

  “My reasons. No business of yours.”

  “Was it the kids? The kids who died in the church?”

  “Why do you think I’d care about some colored kids?”

  “You said they weren’t supposed to be there, that it wasn’t part of the plan,” said Mars.

  “And you ended up marrying a black woman,” Decker added.

  Roy shrugged but said nothing.

  “You can bring these assholes down, Roy. Almost fifty years later. Justice?”

  “Why would I care about that? I’m just trying to survive here.”

  “Eastland’s goons killed McClellan. And Huey has already taken steps to throw a monkey wrench in the FBI’s investigation.”

  “None of that surprises me. They were always the brains. McClellan was just the attack dog. It was why he became a cop. I wonder how many skulls old Mac busted when he was wearing the uniform?”

  “Plenty,” said Decker. “And I would wager most of them were black skulls.”

  “But why the bombings?” asked Mars. “Like you said, they were going places. Huey had his dad’s connections. So why?”

  “You hit it on the head, Mellow. Huey Sr. I don’t know this for a fact, but I strongly suspect he put them up to it.”

  “But why would they go along with it? They had to know this might come back to haunt them later.”

  “They were young punks who thought they were invulnerable. They really saw themselves as like the Three Musketeers, fighting to defend their way of life. Their white life. You should’ve seen them. They always acted so noble, like they were doing God’s work or some shit like that. Hell, they could’ve been living in the 1860s.”

  “So they were fighting the good fight to keep the South the way God wanted it?” said Mars.

  “Something like that. Me, I just wanted the money.”

  “How noble of you,” said Mars in disgust.

  “Shit, you think this was the only church or NAACP office to be bombed? Hell, in the South in the fifties and sixties, it was like the Middle East. Didn’t you ever see the old newsreels? People getting knocked off their feet by fire hoses. Dogs attacking women. Places blowing up. Beatings at the lunch counters. Bodies hanging from trees. Bullets flying.”

  “I grew up in Texas over thirty years ago with biracial parents, so no, I never saw any racism at all,” said Mars sarcastically.

  Roy smiled and inclined his head. “Anyway, the son always lived to impress the dad. Thurman was going to follow in his footsteps, be a player on the national stage. I’m not speculating here. That’s all he talked about in high school. And Eastland was always going to go into business. But he also had a God complex, I guess coming from so m
uch money. He and Huey, knights in shining armor defending their lily-white kingdom. So you had a future politician and a future businessman, match made in heaven. And Mac signed on because, well, as you probably saw, Mac doesn’t like people who look different from him.”

  “And you?” asked Decker. “What was the incentive for you?”

  “You’re not listening. I already told you. Money! And back then I admit I was a lemming. Just followed the crowd. The Hueys had power. The Eastlands had money. I got to live in that world for a little bit, which was a lot better than my real one. My parents were pretty much sharecroppers. The only toilet I had growing up was the one at school. Most days I went out into the fields and picked my own meals. My parents worked hard, don’t get me wrong, but they were never going to have two dimes to rub together.”

  “So you went along?”

  “Hell, yes. They paid me. A shitload of money. More than I’d ever make doing anything else. I was always good with putting stuff together, fixing things. Motors, transmissions, appliances.”

  “And explosives,” added Decker.

  “I started making little pipe bombs in high school. Then I moved on to bigger stuff. They got me the materials and I built explosives with a timer.”

  “And Charles Montgomery ran interference.”

  “Shit, the local cops knew what was going to happen, but yeah, Chuck did the drunk driving act so they could have a reason to leave the church.”

  “And the same in Tuscaloosa with the NAACP office?” asked Decker. “Montgomery did his thing to distract so the bomb could be planted?”

  “I wasn’t there, but I assume so. Huey did tell me later that the cops were watching that office because there’d been threats.”

  “And who brought Montgomery in?”

  “McClellan and Eastland.”

  Decker nodded. “He played football with them at Ole Miss.”

  “Right. But he dropped out of college, got drafted, went to ’Nam, and came back with a lot of problems. He needed money and they had it. I used the same ploy on him when I looked Chuck up to lie about killing us to get Mellow out of prison. Figured a dying guy wouldn’t care. And he wanted to take care of his kid. At least that’s what Regina told me.”

  “So what happened?” asked Decker. “Why disappear, change your name, and go on the run?”

  Roy didn’t answer immediately. “I didn’t agree to meet with you so we could play twenty questions.”

  “Granted, but you did agree. Did you have a falling-out?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because you have something they want. Whatever was in the safe deposit box. They know you’re alive, Roy. They’re never going to stop looking.”

  “You think that worries me?”

  “I don’t know. Why not just give us the evidence and we’ll use it to bring them down?”

  “And what, you just let me walk off into the sunset?” He shook his head.

  Decker said, “It was your leverage against them, right? They come after you, you’ll just turn it over to the authorities.”

  “Damn straight it was.”

  “Did Mom know what you did with the bombings?” asked Mars.

  “You think she would’ve married me if she’d known what I’d done?” Roy looked back at Decker. “After the ESPN show aired, I got a letter.”

  “They threatened you?”

  “They threatened everybody. And that’s when I found out that Lucinda was dying. She had maybe a few months. I was caught in a real bind.”

  Decker said, “But you hadn’t revealed the evidence against them all these years, Roy. After seeing you on TV, why would they come after you so hard? That might make you give up their secrets.”

  “It was McClellan’s doing. He was the one who sent the threats, I’m sure of that. Huey and Eastland would have just sat on it, done nothing. But Roger’s not built that way. All those years I know the sonofabitch has been brooding about what I did. He would have seen it as a betrayal. And he doesn’t like anyone holding something over his head. He came after me and dragged the other two along, of that I’m certain.”

  Decker nodded. “After meeting the man I can see how that would be the case. But how did you fund the stuff that Regina Montgomery bought?” he asked. “You couldn’t even afford medical care for Lucinda.”

  “Little safecracking, a few scams, a bit of burglary, an armed robbery. Took me some time but I got enough cash. Then the dumb bitch went on a shopping spree. I told her to wait till she moved on, but she couldn’t wait. Stupid woman. So I had to take care of that little problem.”

  “And the guy who took your place when you disappeared, Dan Reardon?”

  “Don’t feel too sorry for him. You know what Reardon was? A pedophile and a murderer. Nobody bothered to look, but he probably has half a dozen kids buried out at his old place.”

  “And you never told anyone?” said Decker.

  “No, I blew his head off instead. Saved everybody a lot of time and money.”

  “But they know you’re alive now, Roy. And they’ll come after you and Melvin.”

  “Well, I’ll be a lot harder to find than Mellow.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “I’m okay with a lot of things you wouldn’t be.”

  “Even though Lucinda wouldn’t have agreed?”

  In response Roy held up his phone. “You wrote this text, didn’t you? The first one to me. Because I don’t see Mellow being that eloquent.”

  The screen read, Is this really what Lucinda would have wanted, Roy? It’s her son, the only living thing of your wife left. What would Lucinda want you to do?

  “It’s a fair question,” said Decker.

  “Never said it wasn’t.”

  “So, what would she want you to do? Not just for Melvin. But for the others killed. For the little girls who never got to grow up and have their own children.”

  “Don’t try to pull at the heartstrings, I don’t have any left.”

  “And I don’t believe that. Because you got Melvin out of prison. You saved his life.”

  “And yet here you are asking for even more.”

  “Because the job’s not over yet.”

  “Your job, maybe, not mine.”

  “We can dance linguistics all night. It’s not going to get us anywhere.”

  The two men stared at each other.

  “It would be interesting to see what makes you tick, Decker,” said Roy.

  “We might be more alike than you think.”

  “Oh, I think we’re very much alike.” Roy looked down. “What if I gave you the stuff? Would you really let me walk?”

  “If we got the evidence to put Eastland and Huey away, I really wouldn’t spend a lot of time looking for you.”

  “But the FBI might.”

  “They might. But like you said, you’re a hard man to find.”

  Roy considered this and was about to say something when he froze, and his gaze darted past them. His features hardened.