“Yes,” said Decker imperturbably.
Milligan said accusingly, “Did you know beforehand that I was interested in the Morillo case?”
“Until I walked in this room, I didn’t even know you existed,” replied Decker matter-of-factly. He looked at Bogart again. “Can we discuss the Mars case now? Because I don’t really think any of the others in the binder are nearly as compelling. And since Sadat was lying and Morillo killed those people and we’re not here to free the guilty, I think we need to move on.”
Davenport had to cover her mouth to hide her smile even as Milligan stared venomously at Decker.
Before Bogart could speak, Davenport said, “I vote that we take up the Mars case.”
Decker eyed her curiously. “But I haven’t described it yet.”
“After what you just did, Mr. Decker, I’ll take it on faith.” She looked at Bogart. “Ross, can we go ahead and vote?”
Bogart glanced at Jamison and Decker and then said, “Okay. All in favor of taking on the Melvin Mars case raise your hand.”
Four hands went up. Milligan was the lone dissenter.
Decker leaned forward. “Good. Now, can we get down to it?”
CHAPTER
9
TWO HOURS LATER the meeting ended and plans were made to reconvene the next day. As they left the building, Davenport caught up to Decker and Jamison. Bogart had stayed behind for a few minutes to talk to Milligan.
“Do you two have time for a drink?” asked Davenport, her gaze swiveling between the pair. “There’s a place about a five-minute drive from the base.”
Jamison looked uncertain. “We drove over with Agent Bogart.”
“He can meet us there. I can text him. I just wanted to talk about the case some more before tomorrow. Then he or I can drive you back. I have a car.”
Jamison looked at Decker. “You okay with that?”
Decker said, “Does the bar serve food? I didn’t have any lunch.”
“Absolutely,” Davenport said, running her gaze over Decker’s large physique.
“Let’s go, then,” he said.
* * *
It was called, aptly, The Dive. A hangout for soldiers and cops and rednecks and the occasional suit.
Decker’s party took a table in the back, farthest away from the bar, which was already loud and crowded on New Year’s Day. A digital jukebox blasted away.
Davenport snagged a seat right next to Decker, while Jamison sat across from them. They had a fourth chair for Bogart, whom Davenport had texted. He said he would meet them there in about twenty minutes.
They ordered beers and some snacks. Decker got a mound of chili, chips, and cheese for himself. Davenport had some flatbread and Jamison French onion soup.
Davenport said, “I thought the first meeting went well, although Milligan seemed a bit brusque.”
“Territorial,” noted Jamison. “I’m not sure he’s into us outsiders being involved in FBI investigations.”
“Well, he’s going to have to get used to it,” replied Davenport. She took a sip of beer and studied Decker, who had already dug into his chip mound.
“That was quite impressive what you did back there, Amos. Do you mind if I call you Amos?”
Decker swallowed some of his food. Without looking at her he said, “I didn’t want to waste time on a case of no interest. And you can call me Amos.”
“But you are interested in the Melvin Mars case, clearly.”
“Yes.”
“When you were talking about the case you said you played football against him in college. Is that what piqued your interest? Or was it the fact that his case parallels what happened to you in Burlington? You didn’t mention that in the meeting.”
Decker slowly lifted his gaze from his food to look at Davenport, as Jamison stared suspiciously at her.
Davenport raised her beer. “Touché. And please, call me Lisa.”
Bogart said, “Mars is still in prison in Texas. It seems the first thing to do would be to go there. The place where his parents were killed is hundreds of miles west of the prison.”
“And then we have Charles Montgomery in Alabama,” said Decker.
“Exactly.”
Davenport said, “Can we learn anything about this guy before we