Shit.
He turned over on his side and stared at the wall. His old bedroom had been painted a similar gray color. It was soothing and Cassie had liked soothing things, particularly after stressful days at the hospital. He recalled the time when Molly, unnerved by the night terrors she sometimes suffered with, would climb into bed with them. Decker could never really understand what was troubling his daughter, but Cassie would hold her, and speak soothing words into her little girl’s ear. Eventually, Molly would calm and fall asleep between them, her fingers usually curled around her father’s huge hand.
What I would give to have that right now. To feel those fingers around mine?
He had wanted to help Tyler through this, to get him closure on his mother’s death. It was evident now, to Decker, that Tyler was a younger him, maybe the son he never had, basking in the glory of his youthful football prowess. But Tyler was also mired in the expectations and uncertainties that came with constantly being thrown against greater and greater competition until the day came when he would realize he was no longer the fastest or strongest, or most athletic. That, in the spectrum of elites, he was mediocre at best. Decker had first tasted that bitter rinse at Ohio State. And then he had been completely humbled when entering the NFL. Those expectations had come close to breaking Decker. The question was: Had they broken Tyler?
Guys like Drew James, Tyler’s teammate, would never experience that dilemma. They would be stopped well short of that lofty—
Decker sat up in bed as the memory plates reordered themselves and fell into place so perfectly that it seemed he had nothing to do with the process. It was like his mind was on autopilot.
James had said that Tyler hadn’t run with them since the morning his mother died. But Cummins didn’t die in the morning, she died at night. So if James really meant that Tyler had not run with them beginning with the morning his mother’s body was found…several hours after Tyler would normally run with the other players? But James had also said something else that was far more critical.
And suddenly Decker knew two things: His superpower had not failed him, regardless of what the Cognitive Institute had said.
And he had just solved Julia Cummins’s murder.
And it wasn’t as simple as one killer for the dead woman.
Chapter 93
IN THE MORNING DECKER AND White drove out to the Davidsons’ condo. They took the elevator up, but to the floor right below the Davidsons’。 They spent time inside with the owner, and Decker and White learned what they needed to know.
As they headed back up the elevator to the fourth floor, White looked at Decker.
“So, this occurred to you last night?”
He nodded, looking somber.
“I just don’t get you, Decker. You snatched victory right out of the jaws of defeat, and you act like the criminal got away with it.”
“It all depends on how you define victory and defeat, I guess.”
*
Barry Davidson met them at the door with a frown.
“I’m not sure I should even let you in.”
“We didn’t arrest you,” White pointed out. “And now you’re free and clear, so I would hope that smiles and good cheer are in order.”
He stepped aside to let them pass and then escorted them into the living room.
“It does feel good to be home,” he said. “I made some coffee if you want some.”
“Sure,” said White. They headed into the kitchen, where Davidson poured them all cups.
“Where’s Tyler?” asked Decker.
“He left for school already,” Davidson said. “But we’re going out tonight to celebrate. Did my heart good to see him so happy. I sort of feel things are turning around for us both.”
“You mind if I have a look at Tyler’s room?” asked Decker.
“Why?”
“I saw his place at his mom’s house. I wondered if it was the same here.”
Davidson grinned. “Help yourself. You’ll find that here, Tyler is allowed to be a teenager. At his mom’s, not so much. Down the hall, third door on the right.”
“Next to your office, got it.”
Decker left them and went to Tyler’s room, glancing in the open doorway of Davidson’s office as he went by.
As Davidson had intimated, Tyler’s room looked like a typical teenage boy’s space. Movie, music, and sports posters were on the walls. The place was sloppy and cluttered with piles of dirty clothes, athletic equipment, dumbbells, a football helmet and shoulder pads, books, and an iPad lying on the floor. There was an Xbox and a set of VR goggles. There was also a poster of someone named Kaia Gerber in a bikini. And another poster was of a woman called Olivia Rodrigo. Decker didn’t know who either of these beautiful young women were, but he was pretty sure most seventeen-year-old males would recognize them.