to this ‘ticking time bomb’ comment.”
“No, we don’t. But we will figure it out.”
“I wish I were as confident as you.”
“Now, get some sleep.”
“Wait, will you tell Kelly about what happened tonight?”
“For now, let’s keep it between you and me.”
“Are you sure? He is a local cop.”
“I’m not sure, but I’m trusting my gut.”
He headed to the door.
“Decker, promise me you’re not going back out,” she said imploringly.
“I’m going to slide the bureau up against my door, and sleep with one eye open and my gun in my hand.”
DECKER DIDN’T GO TO SLEEP, at least not right away.
He sat fully dressed in his wet clothes on the floor.
From his wallet he took out two pictures. They were of his wife and daughter. Each had been taken shortly before their deaths.
Tonight, he had come as close to dying as he ever had, he supposed. If this Robie fellow had been a second slower, or not there at all?
I’d be dead. Like Cassie and Molly.
He peered down at their images. He hadn’t looked at these pictures in quite a while. On the day of their funerals, he had been unable to speak, unable to really function. Tearful, devastated people kept coming up to him and saying how sorry they were. And he couldn’t comprehend at the time what they were even trying to communicate. He felt as dead as his wife and daughter were. He had actually wanted to be dead, because he had no desire to keep on living while they could not.
But then time passed, he grieved, mightily at first, too mightily because he came close to losing everything, including his own life. Then more time passed and his days and nights were taken up with doing his job, interacting with others, even making new friends. The loss was still there, it would always be there, but the phrase “Life goes on” appeared to be an accurate one.
And from time to time Decker would feel guilty that he was becoming so absorbed in his work that the memories of his family were receding into a little box in his head, only to be taken out from time to time and wept over. And for him that equated with forgetting about his wife and daughter, or at least allowing other priorities in life to supersede what they had meant to him while alive. And this after he had promised them faithfully, while standing over their graves, that they would be the center of his life until he joined them. A sense of betrayal steadily crept over him.
A tear from his right eye fell onto Molly’s photo. He very carefully brushed it away from the picture, fearful that it would mar her final captured image.
He had told himself back in Burlington when he had been visiting their graves that he could live in the past or live in the present, only he couldn’t do both. Although part of him desperately wanted to.
So what’s it going to be, Amos?
He supposed all who had suffered such a loss struggled just as he did. That notion didn’t console him at all.
We all feel alone. We all feel unique in our pain.
He slid the photos back into his wallet and put it away.
It was then that he noticed the bulge in his jacket pocket.
He slowly put his hand in there and pulled out . . . a phone?
The answer hit him a second later.
Robie.
The man had slipped this phone into his jacket when he had helped Decker up in that alley. He had said he would figure out a way for them to communicate, and this must be it. He looked more closely at the device. It both looked and did not look like a typical mobile phone.
He punched in the number of his own cell phone to see if it would go through. It didn’t.
He looked down at the phone, then simply pushed the green talk button.
The phone made a small buzzing sound and then the voice came on.
“I expected you to be a little quicker on the uptake,” said Robie. “I’ve been waiting for your call for an hour.”
“I just found the phone and figured out how to work it.”
“Anything up or are you just checking in?”
“The latter. So if I push the green button you come running?”
“No. If you push the red button I do. But I don’t have a cape and superpowers, so don’t expect me to be there in seconds.”
“So it’s like a panic button, then?”
“And only use it when you