Long Shadows (excerpt)

Below is an excerpt from Long Shadows, the upcoming thriller in David Baldacci’s Memory Man series.

Click here to pre-order in hardcover, e-book, and audiobook

The letter waiting for Decker was from the Cognitive Institute in Chicago, or CI as Decker and everyone else there referred to it.

He had gone there the month before for some routine tests, which they had done on him annually ever since he had been there as a patient after his football injury.

He put his suitcase down inside the door of his apartment, and tore open the letter with his thick finger.

It was several pages long, which surprised him. Usually, they were much shorter. But usually there was nothing really to tell him. This time was different.

He sat down and read it through twice, though his perfect memory had already imprinted all of the contents in his mind forever.

He slowly tore the pages into strips and threw them into the trash can.

Well . . . okay.

His phone buzzed. He looked at the text and groaned.

He was to come to the Washington Field Office immediately, or so commanded his superior at the Bureau. He glanced once at the trash can where the destroyed letter rested and then grabbed his car keys and walked out the door.

***

“Amos Decker, meet your new partner, Special Agent Frederica White,” said John Talbott in a voice that sounded like a game show host introducing a new prize.

The massive Decker looked all the way down at the five-foot- three-inch Black woman, and she looked back up the mountain at him. It was unclear which one was more surprised by this announcement.

“New partner?” said Decker, glancing at Talbott, who had taken over for Ross Bogart. “I didn’t ask for a new partner. Alex—”

“Special Agent Jamison is not coming back, or at least not anytime soon. And so we have transferred in Agent White from Baltimore to work with you.”

White had never taken her eyes off Decker. Her expression was unreadable. She was in her midthirties, lean and wiry, packing about 105 pounds on her petite frame. Her caramel-colored hair was cut to FBI regulation length and held in place with a pair of tortoiseshell barrettes.

Decker noted the small hole in her left nostril for a stud, although FBI regulations forbade the wearing of any such item while on duty. At the end of her right jacket cuff he could just make out a greenish mark protruding from under the cloth.

A tat.

She had on two-inch zipper boots that lifted her within a foot of his height. No stilettos for FBI agents, despite what the TV cop shows had their female actors wear. Black jacket and slacks, white shirt, buttoned to the top. No cleavage—ditto on the TV shows. Thin lips, green flinty eyes, slender dark eyebrows atop them, a sharp-edged nose, high cheekbones, jutting chin—the woman was all sharp edges.

“You can shake hands, you two,” said Talbott encouragingly.

The two did not shake hands. They just stood there like they were afraid one was trying to get the jump on the other.

Talbott, a man waiting for the full pension and the exit door that came with it, smiled deeply, and said in a fake cheery voice, “I’ll just leave you two to get to know each other better.”

The door closed behind him.

“I didn’t ask for this either, just so you know,” said White. “Then why are you here?”

She gave him the full hiked-eyebrows treatment. The hole in the side of her nostril quivered with something, maybe suppressed energy or rage.

“I was unaware I had a choice since the Bureau signs my pay- check. But I didn’t know I would be partnering with you until thirty seconds ago.”

“Then we have that in common,” said Decker. “But I don’t want to work with a new partner.”

“So you have a choice?” she said. “Apparently not.”

“I know Alex Jamison. She’s a good agent. She told me things about you.”

“Why? You said you didn’t know you were partnering with me until just now.”

“Word gets around, Decker. Don’t think there’s another one like you in the Bureau.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Between me and her. By the way, I go by Freddie, just in case you were wondering.”

“Is this enough getting to know each other? Because I’ve had my fill,” he said.

“Good enough for me, but if we walk out of here now Talbott will just make us have lunch together or something, and I doubt you want that.”

Decker edged over to the window and looked out on a cloudy day, his thoughts just as muddled. He detested change, and here he was being hit by it on all sides. He could either leave the Bureau or endure a new partner named Frederica/Freddie. Which scenario would be worse? He didn’t know.

“I heard about your old partner back in Ohio. That was a real tragedy. My sympathies,” added White. She sounded sincere.

Decker didn’t turn around. “She was a good cop. She didn’t deserve to go out that way.”

“Does anybody?”

“I can think of a few.”

“Anything you want to know about me?”

He turned to her, mildly intrigued, and said, “What do you think is important?”

“I’m divorced. Got two kids. My mother lives with us, helps to take care of them. I grew up in Philly. I had three brothers, and I have one sister.”

“Had?”

“One brother died by gunshot during a shootout with another gang, and one’s in prison until he’s an old man. My oldest brother is an attorney and works for the Public Defender’s Office in Boston. My sister has her own tech business and lives in Palo Alto in a house worth more than I will ever make in my life.”

“You always this open with strangers?”

“You’re my partner. You have to have my back and I yours. Okay, to finish my personal highlight reel, I went to Howard University for my undergrad. Got my master’s from Georgetown. Joined the Bureau thirteen years ago. I’ve fired my gun twice in the line of duty. I’m small but I hit above my weight and I bite really hard. Got a double black belt in karate not because I love martial arts, but be- cause I hate getting my ass kicked, both physically and symbolically. I do not tolerate idiots or laziness or bullshit, and I encounter way more of all three than I need to right here at the Bureau. I like to know where I stand at all times. As a person of color and a woman on top of that, I find it a necessity to my future well-being, and that of my family. And nothing is more important to me than that.”

“How old are your kids?”

“Nine and twelve. Daughter and son, respectively. Calvin, named after my father. And Jacqueline, but she goes by Jacky.”

“Do you share custody with your ex?”

“I was still carrying Jacky when my ex decided marriage and fatherhood were not for him. I have full and permanent custody. Calvin doesn’t even remember his father and that’s a damn good thing.”

“You still live in Baltimore?”

“I was working in Baltimore until this morning.” “Plan to move here?”

“If I can afford anything down here, which I doubt unless I want to live in the nosebleed seats. And I’ll wait and see. Sometimes new assignments don’t stick.”

“Yeah, sometimes they don’t.” Decker said a silent prayer on that one.

“What about you?”

“What about me what?” he said. “Anything to share?”

“If you spoke to Alex, you know all you need to know about me.” “But nobody tells it as good as the person himself.”

“I don’t tell anything remotely good about myself or anybody else.”

White took this shot and fired off one of her own. “You know, you’re smaller than I would have thought.”

He looked down at her. “I’m a wall, only not one you lean on.” “It’s just that Alex made you out to be nine feet tall and eight

hundred pounds. Compared to that description, you’re sort of shrimpy. I can’t help feeling disappointed. But nevertheless, are we good to go, partner?”

Decker said with all due candidness, “At this point, I don’t really give a shit.”

“You always this way with the people you work with?” “Initially, yeah.”

“Well, let’s work quickly through initially then.”

Decker looked her over. “I’m sure you’re a fine agent. I have nothing against you. But change like this is not my thing. And I’ve had more of it in my life than most people.”

She glanced up at his head. “Football player? Cleveland Browns?

I hate the Browns. I’m an Eagles girl through and through. Hate the Baltimore Ravens, too, and that’s all I see now.”

“I don’t really follow football anymore.”

She glanced at his head once more. “Yeah, I guess I can under- stand that.”

The door opened and there stood Talbott. His features grim, he did not seem remotely like the cheerful man from a few minutes ago.

“You two have your first case. You’re heading to Florida. Right now.”

“What happened?” said Decker.

“A federal judge and her bodyguard. They’re both dead.”

***

Thank God for mothers,” said White as she settled in her plane seat next to Decker. “Especially on short notice.”

“She takes care of the kids while you’re traveling?”

“Yep. Otherwise, I couldn’t do it. Childcare is outrageously ex- pensive, even when you can find it. Lucky she was a young mother. Still got a lot of energy.”

“Five kids will age you fast.”

“She worked, too, as the assistant principal at the school where we all went. My dad was a cop in Philly. Never made that much money.”

“Is he retired?”

“He died in the line of duty.” “Sorry to hear that.”

“My mother got a big settlement from the city.” “Why was that?” he said curiously.

“Because the dude that shot my father was also a cop, who didn’t like the color of my dad’s skin. And then the department tried to cover it up and make it look like an accident. This was twenty years ago, I was still in high school.”

“Civilizations don’t always progress, they sometimes regress.” “Didn’t expect that from you.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“I don’t know, to tell the truth.”

After the jet lifted into the air, White said, “You read the email they sent about what happened in Florida?”

Decker nodded. “What do you think?”

“I don’t think anything. Somebody else’s version of the facts in an email doesn’t mean anything to me. I need to see it for myself.”

“Well, what I got from it was this was an inside job, or at least the killer knew things he shouldn’t have.”

“You’re making assumptions that aren’t justified yet.” “Like what?” she asked.

“That it was only one killer. And that it was male.” “I was just speaking generally.”

“I like specifics much better. So explain why you think that,” he said.

“The person or persons knew the judge’s routine. No forced entry. Her personal security was killed without him fighting back. That tells me that he didn’t perceive what was happening as a threat. The judge was killed and there was no sign of a struggle. She didn’t try to call for help.”

“So she might have known whoever it was who killed her. The guard too.”

“But why let someone in if they just killed your protection?” White asked.

“She either didn’t know  that  had  happened,  or  something even more devious was going on. She’s divorced. Ex lives in the area.”

“Right. So the ex-hubby’s a possible suspect.” “Spouses, and particularly exes, always are.” “Don’t I know it,” replied White.

The plane started shedding altitude an hour and a half later, and they landed at the Southwest Florida International Airport near Fort Myers. A rental car was waiting for them.

White drove while Decker wedged himself into the passenger seat of the midsize four-door.

White glanced over at him as they pulled into traffic. “Sorry, it’s all they had. Shortage of rental cars these days.”

“I’ve never ridden in one that was remotely comfortable, so my expectations are nonexistent.”

“Agent from the local RA is on the scene,” she said, referring to an FBI Resident Agency.

“I know.”

“The bodies are still there, too. They’re apparently holding them for us.”

He glanced at her. “Are you trying to screw with me?” “No, I’m trying to be informative.”

“Don’t.”

“Alex said you could get testy.”

“You haven’t even seen mildly annoyed, much less the other side of the Rubicon.”

“Thanks for the information,” she replied. “I like to know where I stand.”

He recited from memory, “‘As a person of color and a woman on top of that, I find it a necessity to my future well-being, and that of my family.’ ”

“Alex also said your memory could be frustrating at times, but she worked around it.”

Decker looked out the window at the bright sky and said, “I never liked Florida. When I played ball at Ohio State, we would come down to play Florida and Florida State and Miami. Hated every second of it, and not only because their players were so much faster and athletic than we were.”

“Why? Too much heat or too many old people? Or both?” “No, it’s because I’m just a lunch pail guy from the Midwest.” “Meaning?”

“I hate sand.”

***

They drove up to a gated community in the town of Ocean View, which was situated about half an hour north of Naples. The roar of the breakers from the nearby Gulf shared the ride with them.

“This place looks like a postcard,” noted White as she stopped the rental at the guard hut.

“Not where we’re going it doesn’t,” replied Decker.

The guard came out of the little shack. He was in his forties and walked with a swagger more befitting a Navy SEAL than a luxury community rental cop gatekeeper.

“Can I help you?” he said as White rolled down her window. She flashed her FBI ID pack.

“White and Decker. We’re here regarding the murder of Judge Julia Cummins.”

“Right, right,” said the man as he eyed Decker. While White was still in her black suit with the white shirt, Decker had on khakis and a faded dark blue sweatshirt.

“You must have come from up north,” said the guard. “It’s almost never sweatshirt weather here.”

“Have you provided the list of guests and residents who entered here over the last twenty-four hours?” said Decker.

“Provided to who?” “The cops,” said White.

“They haven’t asked for it.”

“Okay, we’re asking for it now,” said Decker. “I’ll have to check with my supervisor.”

“Then go ahead and make the call while we’re waiting, because we need that info now.”

“Don’t you need a warrant for that sort of stuff?” “Did you kill the judge and her guard?” said White. The man took a step back. “What! Hey, no way.”

“Then we don’t need a warrant. People coming through this gate have no expectation of privacy. And this is a murder investigation. So we need to know who came through here and when during the last twenty-four hours at least.”

“So make the call to your supervisor,” said Decker. “And bring the information to the judge’s house. We’ll be waiting for it.”

“Uh, okay.”

“And open the gate,” said White.

“Oh, right.” The man quickly did so, and they drove through. “If that’s the quality of the security here, I’m surprised only two

people are dead,” noted White.

“Well, there might be more that we don’t know about yet,” said Decker.

Cummins’s home was large and of Mediterranean design with white stucco siding and a red tile roof. It was situated on a shady, quiet cul-de-sac. The plantings were mature and well tended. This tranquility was marred by police and unmarked cars parked all over, and yellow crime-scene tape vibrating across the front yard in the brisk breeze.

Decker noted a blue sedan parked in the driveway. “Might be the dead security guard’s ride.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Every other ride here is either a police cruiser, or has Florida government or federal plates.”

“Could be Judge Cummins’s car.”

“A woman who owns what looks to be a two- or three-million- dollar home is not driving a dented-up ten-year-old Mazda. And

she would have pulled it into one of those three garage bays, not left it in the driveway. And check out the bumper sticker.”

White read it off: “The Feds are watching you.”

“Not something you’d typically see on a federal judge’s car.” They parked at the curb, cleared the security at the front door,

put on booties and vinyl gloves helpfully provided by a member of the forensics team, and stepped inside.

Decker was immediately hit by a searing vision of overpowering electric blue. This was his synesthesia working overtime. His whole life, in fact, was represented by an overactive memory plus sensory pathways that had crossed streams like a clover exit off a highway.

He put a hand against the wall to steady himself because when the electric blue hit him, it made his balance momentarily say bye-bye.

Deep breaths, in and out.

When White looked at him she didn’t say a word, which made Decker instantly suspicious. He would have to deal with that later. His new partner was getting on his nerves by just being silent.

The short, stocky man marched into the foyer of the house like he was a CEO entering a boardroom for a meeting. He was in his late forties and dressed in pressed slacks and a navy blue jacket. His tie and shirt were immaculate. His hair looked like it had been pressed with an iron. His features were sharp, his expression sharper still.

And he was just the sort of stuffed-shirt official prick that Decker detested.

He flashed his cred pack. “FBI Special Agent Doug Andrews out of the Fort Myers RA.”

Of course you are, thought Decker. “And you are?” Andrews said.

White produced her cred pack. Decker just stared at the doorway. “And this is Amos Decker,” said White. “We just flew in from DC.” Andrews’s expression soured. “I wasn’t told they were sending in agents from out of town. I was just told to hold the bodies here. I

wasn’t given a reason.”

“Well, we’re the reason,” said White.

Andrews looked at Decker’s casual dress and said, “I didn’t see your ID, what was the name again, Decker?”

Decker looked around the grand foyer. Delicately furnished with expensive items arranged just so. Custom paint and wallpaper. Antique grandfather clock ticking away in one corner. Rugs were thick and colorful and no doubt expensive. He could smell death in every corner of the place. This was not his imagination. Dead bodies were decomposing in the near vicinity and the foul smell was unmistakable.

He saw a bloody palm print on a wall leading to the stairs. On the stair runner were other blood marks. They had number cones next to them, the mark of the forensics team’s doing its processing. He saw chalky fingerprint powder everywhere. He could hear the clicks of cameras and the murmurs of conversation. Everything was going as it should. Now he had to deal with this asshole, which he didn’t want to do.

Without looking at the man Decker said, “We were sent down to assist in the investigation.”

“We have the matter well in hand. And I—” Decker walked past him and into the next room.

“Hey!” barked Andrews as Decker disappeared around the corner. He looked back at White. “What the hell is with that guy?” “Like me, he’s just here doing his job. And if you have a problem

with us being here, you’re going to have to take it up with HQ. But right now, we’re going to work, just like you.”

She followed Decker into the next room. Andrews hurried after her.

-END-