They ordered, and Decker sat back in his chair cradling the bottle of Corona with a lime wedge the waitress had brought him while Jamison sipped on some iced tea.
“So what do you think of Detective Kelly?” she said.
“I think his talents might be wasted in a place like this. But then again, this might be a hotbed of crime for all I know.”
“Men with too much money,” mused Jamison. “Like he said.”
Decker nodded absently. “Kelly wants to know why we’re here. And so do I. I called and left a message with Bogart but I’ve heard nothing back yet.”
“I did too, with the same result. What do you think after looking at the body?”
“It could be some psycho with a forensic fetish, or someone is leaving a message of some sort.”
“What sort of message?”
“If Cramer was killed because of something she knew, and others knew it as well, then it’s a warning not to talk or the same will happen to them.”
“What could she have known?”
“Well, if I knew that, we could make an arrest and fly home,” said Decker.
“Point taken.”
Decker’s expression grew dark. “I don’t think this is a one-off, Alex.”
“Meaning?”
“You heard what Walt Southern said. Medical-grade incisions and tools. You don’t walk into a Home Depot and buy a Stryker saw. And the body was cut up before it was laid out there, otherwise there would have been traces of the procedure and at least some blood. And he had to transport her out there. He evidently picked the spot with care.”
“So that shows he knows the area. Or at least scoped out that particular location beforehand.”
Decker nodded. “That takes planning and patience.” He looked over her shoulder and his eyes widened in surprise. He blinked twice as though to clear his vision and make sure he was seeing correctly.
“Stan?”
The big man who had just come into the dining area glanced sharply over at them when he heard the name. His look of astonishment mirrored Decker’s.
“Amos?”
The man named Stan came over and Decker stood to shake his hand as Jamison looked on, puzzled.
“What the hell are you doing here?” asked Decker.
“Could ask the same of you,” said Stan.
He was nearly as tall and broad as Decker, with reddish hair going gray at the edges, a florid face, and twinkly green eyes. His short, trimmed beard matched the color of his hair.
“Hello,” interjected Jamison as she rose and extended her hand. “I’m Alex Jamison. I work with Decker at the FBI.”
“I’m sorry,” said Decker. “Alex, this big lug is Stan Baker, my brother-in-law. He’s married to my sister Renee. They live in California.” He glanced curiously at Baker. “You’re a long way from home.”
Baker rubbed his thick, muscular fingers, his expression suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I live here now. And soon, well, I’m going to be your ex-brother-in-law.”
“What?” snapped a visibly stunned Decker as he took a step back.
“Renee hasn’t talked to you?”
“About what?”
“We’re getting divorced.”
Decker stared at him in disbelief. “Divorced? Why?”
“Lots of reasons. Blame on both sides.”
“And the kids?”
“They’ll stay with their mom.”
“Are they still in California?”
“Yeah,” Baker said uncomfortably. “The younger kids are in school and all. And Renee has a good job.”
“But you’re here in North Dakota, Stan. How exactly does that work?” he demanded.
“I moved to Alaska and worked there for a while, but that’s slowing down. You know Tim was an oil exec up there. He got me the job.”
“What do you mean Tim was an oil executive?”
“Who’s Tim?” interjected Jamison.
“Our other brother-in-law,” replied Baker. “He’s married to Amos’s sister Diane.”
“What about Tim?” said Decker.
“He got canned and last I heard drives an Uber and does some accounting for small businesses. And then my position got cut, too. I wanted a fresh start. This place is booming. They needed experienced field hands. Been here over a year now. And you can’t beat the money.”
“And your kids?” said Decker again.
“I Skype with them most every day,” Baker said defensively.
“You can’t Skype a hug or teach your son to swing a bat from thousands of miles away. You were in the Army when the first two were born. You were gone a lot.”
“I was fighting for my country, Amos!”
“I’m just saying kids need their dad.”
Baker said in an annoyed tone, “Yeah, well, it’s the way it is for me. I mean people do get divorced. And we did try to work it out. Counseling and all that.”
“Maybe you could have worked harder,” said Decker. “It’s family, Stan. They’re not supposed to be disposable.”
Now Baker’s green eyes flashed angrily. “Look, I know what you’re getting at. We all know what happened to Cassie and her brother, and . . . Molly. It was awful. Never cried that hard in my life as when I was at their funerals. But . . . but that’s you, not me. It’s way different. And I wasn’t looking for this to happen, neither of us was, but it just did. That’s life.”
Decker glanced at Jamison and then looked down. “Yeah, okay. I . . . I guess I should call Renee. I . . . I haven’t been all that good about keeping in touch.”
“Well, if you didn’t know your sister was getting divorced or your other brother-in-law lost his job, I’d say you’re spot-on with that observation,” chimed in a disbelieving Jamison.
“So what are you doing here?” asked Baker.
“Investigating a murder.”
“A murder!?”
“You have murders up here, don’t you?” said Decker sullenly.
“Yeah, it’s usually two drunk knuckleheads going at it, or some gang boys fighting over drug turf. Meth, coke, and heroin are like candy up here. Who got killed?”
“We can’t go into that with you,” said Jamison quickly. “But you’ll probably hear about it on the news.”
“Damn. And the FBI got called in for it? Why can’t the locals handle it?”
Decker said, “We just go where we’re told to go, Stan.”
“Would you like to join us for dinner?” asked Jamison.
Baker blanched and took a step back, glancing at Decker. “What? No. I, um, I already ate my dinner.”
“What are you doing here, then?” asked Decker, who was now clearly curious about Baker’s discomfort. “If you’ve been here over a year, surely you’re not staying here.”
“No, I got my own place. I’m here to meet, uh . . .” he mumbled.
“Meet who?” said Decker sharply.
“Stan?”
They all turned to see a woman in her early thirties saunter into the room. At least saunter was the verb that came to Decker’s mind as he watched her move. She was quite beautiful, and he could see many of the men in the room, even those there with other women, turn to stare at her.