Decker paused.

“That means you’ve gotta go,” Donatti said.

Reluctantly, Decker got up and left the room. Chris locked the door and put the keys in his pants. “You can let yourself out the same way you came in.”

Again Donatti disappeared behind one of the doors. Decker waited, deciding what to do. He knew if he left now, he’d never get another chance. Donatti would think him a gutless jerk. Yet if he pushed Donatti, that wouldn’t work, either.

C.D. don’t talk.

But back then—eight years ago—Chris did talk, having told Decker lots of things in his time of need. In some perverse way, Decker had been a kind of father figure to Donatti as well as Terry. While Chris was serving time, Decker had been his link to Terry. More important, Decker had been C.D.’s passkey out of prison. Yes, it was Decker who had put him in the hole, but when certain forensic irregularities came to light, it had been Decker who had bought Donatti his freedom. If anything were to work with the kid, it would be the old roles, not the new ones.

There was no way Decker could convince Chris that he had his interest at heart. But he could convince Donatti that he cared about Terry—because that was true. Decker had given the girl money when she had been desperate—abandoned by everyone, including her parents. One thousand dollars that Decker could ill afford went to support Donatti’s son when Chris wouldn’t have anything to do with her. Now that they had resumed a relationship, Terry had probably told him about it: Chris was no doubt resentful. Still, Decker had come through for Terry, and Donatti placed a huge premium on loyalty.

Decker sat back down on the wooden crate and rested his elbows on his knees. If he were to get anywhere with this homicide, he needed an insider and who better than Donatti?

Provided that Donatti had nothing to do with the murder.

Sure it was a risk, but what was life without that occasional adrenaline rush?

Decker waited patiently, happy to just sit and do nothing. When Donatti finally emerged, he stopped in his tracks, seeing Decker. “You’re still here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

As Decker stood, Donatti tensed up every muscle, every sinew as if expecting Decker to pounce. Instead, Decker dropped his voice to a soothing whisper. “You have a beautiful son, Donatti, because you chose his mother well. That much we agree on. As far as Terry goes, I die with your secret, guy. You know me well enough to realize that my word is not only gold but also noncontingent. If you can help me out, fine. If not, it’s no hard feelings. I walk away and you never hear from me again.”

With that, Decker turned and left.

12

If Donatti had something to do with the hit, he didn’t give off any telltale vibes. But then again Chris had always been good at hiding things, so Decker didn’t dare rule him out. Clearly, Donatti favored youth—teenagers he could control and manipulate. He had to recruit his girls from somewhere, and as long as Shaynda was still missing, any predator of young girls was suspect. Decker had stirred up the muck. Now it remained to be seen what would surface.