“Five minutes.”
“We’ll come up in ten. We’ll have weapons, but they won’t be drawn. You keep him calm and away from his guns. If he suddenly gets riled, you let us know.”
“Okay. I’m off.” She turned around and started hiking upward.
No one spoke for a few minutes as Decker’s eyes were glued to his watch. Finally, McAdams said, “I’ll walk behind you and cover your back.” A pause. “Is this really a good idea?”
“It’s a terrible idea, but it’s the only one I have right now,” Decker said. “She should be up in a minute or so.”
“Maybe I should lead. I don’t have a family.”
“Just because you don’t have one now doesn’t preclude the future. Just stop talking and pay attention. Let’s go.”
With deliberation and caution, they started up the hill. Decker was constantly using whatever foliage and trees he could find for cover. Within a few minutes, the trailer came into view, peeking through thick brush. Which meant if Decker could see the trailer, someone looking out the window of the place could see him. But he soldiered on, his eyes fixed on the lodging in front of them. Finally, he and McAdams reached the top of the hill with the trailer about ten yards away. He shouted, “Bennett, we’re the only ones out here. I need you to come out so I can see you.”
Without hesitation, he said, “I can see you. If I wanted to shoot you, I would have done it already.”
“I appreciate that.” Decker was dripping wet. “But I’m not going to approach you until I can see you.”
Silence.
“Bennett, I’m here to help you.”
Still no answer. He could hear Harriet’s voice but couldn’t make out the words.
“Bennett,” Decker said. “I can’t stay around waiting. I need a commitment.”
Seconds passed. And then a minute . . . two minutes.
Finally, the trailer door opened. The man who stepped out was around thirty, but his face looked twenty years older. He had an uncut beard with gray streaking through the dark brown. His hair was unkempt and sported long Rasta curls. There were wrinkles on his forehead, wrinkle lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes. Dark orbs were surrounded by red and yellow spots swimming in a sea of white. He wore a long-sleeved plaid shirt and a pair of faded jeans with old boots on his feet. Harriet was right behind him.
“Hands up, Bennett.”
“Don’t shoot him,” she said.
“I’m not going to shoot anyone. I just want to see his hands.” To Bennett: “That okay with you, buddy?”
Bennett said nothing.
“Put your hands on the top of your head, Bennett.”
The passing seconds seemed protracted. Finally, he complied.
Decker turned to McAdams. “Watch his hands.”
“My eyes are glued.”
“I’m going to walk toward you now, Bennett. Just keep your hands up where I can see them.” Decker approached slowly until he was looking into the tired man’s jaundiced eyes. “I’m going to pat you down now. It means I’m going to touch you. You keep your hands up and I’ll make it quick.”
“I’m not a moron. I understand.”
“Just spelling it out so no one gets the wrong idea.”
“Go ahead. I’m unarmed.”
And he was. Decker said, “You can put your hands down now.” Bennett complied. “Thank you for agreeing to see us.”
Bennett’s eyes darted between McAdams and Decker. “You didn’t give me an option.”
“Bennett, he’s trying to help,” Harriet said.
“No, he’s trying to solve a case.” He addressed Decker. “You found the others?”
“We did.”
“Took you long enough.”
“Yes, it did.”
“Talk to the other families?”
“We did.”
“That’s good.”
“It is good that they have the finality. Wondering is a hard thing. Son, it would help them out if they knew what happened.”
Silence.
Decker spoke softly. “Bennett, it’s time.”
“Yeah.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I suppose you’re right.”
Chapter 25
It wasn’t the heat or the humidity. It wasn’t the hoarding and the piles of clothing and trash and mounds of papers stacked precariously. It was the smell—the stink of decay, piss, and rotted food with a topper of must and mold. There was no running water, as evidenced by a tub of brown liquid—dubiously suitable for cleaning, let alone drinking. Scattered with the trash were empty plastic water bottles. Some had been cut in half and were used for growing greens.
Furniture included a beaten-up love seat, a small round table with a chair, and a mattress on the floor topped with torn blankets. The kitchenette had a sink piled with dishes and a small refrigerator that must have run on a battery-operated generator. Decker heard a background hum. On the opposite side of the trailer was a closed door in the back. He assumed it was the bathroom with a chemical toilet.
Harriet had already pulled out cleaning supplies and a six-pack of paper towels from a cabinet. Bennett said, “I would have cleaned the place if I knew you were coming.” He sounded defensive.
“It’s fine, dear.” She started on the dishes, using bottled water and soap.
Decker had his eyes glued on Bennett. He held his hand over his own firearm. “Where are your guns?”
“Cabinet over the sink.”
Bennett rolled up his sleeves and began to scratch his arms. Scabs all over. Decker said, “I’m going to look in the cabinet. I need to do that.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
Decker locked eyes with McAdams. “Watch him.” To Bennett: “What kind of gear do you have?”
Bennett said, “A shotgun, a .38 revolver, a .22 revolver, a .357 Magnum, and two rifles.”
“Lot of firepower,” McAdams said.
“I hunt. We got wild turkeys and deer and small game. Different guns for different animals.”
Decker went over to the cabinet and took out the weapons, one by one, unloading them as he pulled them out. “I’m keeping the ammo.”
“I understand.” Bennett went over to a section of the living room and lifted a stack of white computer paper with handwriting on it. “This’ll tell you everything.”
“What is it?” McAdams asked.
“My memoirs. I have a great story to tell. Hollywood should snap it up. Black stars are hot.”
“And I will read every page of it.” Decker took the papers. Must have been over a thousand pages. “But for right now, I need a condensed version.”
“Sure, but you’ll be missing a lot of drama.”
“That’s why I’ll read it later.”
“I think you’ll appreciate . . . what happened that way.”
“I’m going to tape this interview.”
“Why?” Jumpy eyes.
“Because I forget things—”
“That’s why I gave you the memoirs.”
“Bennett, I need to tape the interview. It’s for your protection and for mine.”