Chapter 49 first quarter

On the wide cobbled driveway outside Decker's house, the beams of headlights flickered haphazardly.Car engines rumbled and radios crackled.The frightening shadows of cars in the lights seemed to be everywhere: patrol cars, vans, and the heavy duty van of the New Mexico Department of Public Services.An ambulance sped off. Decker was naked in his coat, with his knees exposed.He shuddered, leaning against the stuccoed wall by the open courtyard door, and watched restlessly as the lights of the ambulance receded into the night.He didn't seem to notice that the police were searching the surroundings of his house with flashlights.Just then, a forensic team walked past him carrying equipment.

"I'm sorry," said a policeman.He was the burly Mexican-American who first arrived on the scene and later introduced himself as Officer Sanchez. "I know you'd love to accompany your friend to the hospital, but we need you to stay here and answer more questions." Decker didn't answer, just stared at the ambulance's headlights getting smaller and smaller in the darkness. "The paramedics in the ambulance said they didn't think she was life-threatening," Sanchez continued. "The bullet went through her right arm, but it didn't appear to have broken a bone. They stopped the bleeding."

"Shock," Decker said, "my friend is in shock." The policeman seemed a little uncomfortable and didn't know what to say for a moment. "Yes, shock." "Shock can be fatal." The lights of the ambulance disappeared.Decker turned to see the confusion between the headlights of the van and the hulking New Mexico Department of Public Services utility vehicle.He saw two confused civilians walking quickly towards him, surrounded by police, and he couldn't help feeling nervous.Have the police already caught the person involved in the attack?Leaving Sanchez behind, Decker furiously walked toward the open door, staring intently at the man being brought before him.

It was brought a man and a woman.When the nearby headlights fully illuminated their faces, Decker recognized them, and his anger subsided a lot. The policemen walking on either side of them came to the gate with a determined expression on their faces. "We found them on the road. They claim to be your neighbors." "Yeah, they live across the street." Decker's ears were still buzzing, but not as badly as before. "They are Mr. and Mrs. Hansen." "We heard gunshots," said Hansen, with a short beard. "And your siren," said the grizzled Mrs. Hansen.Both she and her husband were dressed in rumpled casual clothes that looked like they had been thrown on hastily. "At first, we thought it was a mistake. How could there be gunshots in your house? We couldn't believe it."

"But we were still concerned," Hansen said, "and called the police." "You guys did a great job," Decker said. "Thank you so much." "are you OK?" "I guess it's okay." Decker's body ached from the tension. "I can't tell." "What happened?" "That's exactly the question I was going to ask," someone chimed in. Decker turned his face in a daze, and saw a person coming out of the car lights outside the door.Tall and muscular, he wore a leather cowboy hat, a denim shirt, faded blue jeans, and dirty cowboy boots.Officer Sanchez shone a flashlight at the man, and Decker determined he was also Mexican-American.He had a handsome, thin face and sad eyes, and black hair that fell to his shoulders.He was about thirty-five or sixteen years old.

"Louis." The man nodded to Officer Sanchez as a greeting. "Frederica." Sanchez also nodded at the man. The visitor turned his attention to Decker. "I'm Officer Esperanza." His Mexican accent made the "r" a retroflex. Decker suddenly remembered that "Esperanza" means "hope" in Spanish. "I know this is a terrible disaster. Are you—?" "Decker, Steve Decker." "You must be terrified and distraught, thinking of your friend, her name is...?" "Beth Dwyer." "Does she live here with you?"

"No," Decker said, "she's my neighbor." Esperanza thought for a moment and seemed to come to a logical conclusion. "Well, I want to find out what happened as soon as possible, so you can visit your friend in the hospital as soon as possible. So, allow me to ask you a few questions..." Suddenly, the light on the tachometer above the front door came on.At the same time the hall lights came on, and a beam of light shone through the open front door. Decker heard approving noises from the police officers who were searching the outside of the house. "It looks like," Esperanza said, "someone from the New Mexico Department of Public Services has finally managed to fix your circuit. Can you tell Officer Sanchez where the light switch is outside?"

Decker's throat tickled, as if he'd inhaled dust. "It's just inside the front door." Sanchez put on latex gloves and entered the house.After a while, the lights illuminated the courtyard wall and the main door leading to the front door.Sanchez then turned on the lights in the living room, and soft light filtered through the windows, illuminating the courtyard. "Excellent," Esperanza said.A 9mm Beretta in a holster hung on his belt, visible in the light.He looked even thinner now than he had been under the limited illumination of headlights and flashlights.His face was weather-beaten, his skin was dark and rough like leather, and he could tell he was a person who often stayed outdoors.He was about to ask a question when a policeman came over and gestured to a person outside the door.It was a laborer with "New Mexico Department of Public Services" emblazoned on his smock. "Yes, I'd like to talk to him. Just a moment, please," he said to Decker, then turned and walked toward the worker.

The Hansen couple seemed overwhelmed by all this. "Come with me, please?" an officer said to them. "I need to ask you a few questions." "We'll do our best to help." "Thank you both," Decker added. "Thank you so much." Esperanza walked back past them. "You'll feel better if we go inside and talk," he said to Decker. "Your feet must be cold." "What did you say? My feet?" "You haven't got your shoes on yet." Decker looked down at his bare feet on the brick floor. "There are so many things going on, I forget."

"You must be tempted to take off your coat and put on your clothes, too." "There was a shootout in the bedroom." The sudden change of subject seemed to baffle Esperanza. "There's also a walk-in closet," Decker said. "Really?" Esperanza surveyed Decker. "All my clothes are there." Only then did Esperanza understand. "Yes, you probably can't touch anything there until the inspection team finishes their work." Esperanza made a gesture to enter the room, and looked at Decker more carefully. "They cut the power from the power pole next to your house," Esperanza said.

He and Decker sat at a table in the kitchen.At this time, police, forensic officers and the coroner were examining the bedroom and laundry area.The photography police clicked the flash again and again to take pictures.Decker's eardrums still ached, but the tinnitus had subsided considerably.He could hear the screeching and chattering of devices as they were turned on, and he heard a man talking about a "battle zone." "The power pole was 30 yards away from the gravel road, and there were a few trees in front of it," Esperanza said. , it won't be seen. Same with the phone lines, they cut them in the junction box next to your house." Despite his coat, Decker kept shaking from the ongoing adrenaline rush.He looked toward the living room and saw investigators coming and going.He was thinking of Beth all the time.How is the situation in the hospital?Is Beth all right? "The people who broke in had ID cards in their wallets," Esperanza said, "and we're going to do a background check on them and maybe that'll get us to the bottom of it. But...Mr. Decker, What do you think is going on here?" Yeah, that's the problem, Decker thought.God, what the hell is going on here?During the entire shootout, he only tried his best to control his panic and protect Beth, and he had no time to think about the secrets.Who are these people?Why are they breaking in?As mystified as he was, there were two things he was certain of -- that the attack had something to do with his previous life, and that, for reasons of national security, he must not tell Esperanza anything about his past. life situation. Decker looked puzzled. "I reckon they're burglars." "The burglars usually do it alone or in two," Esperanza said. "There are times when there are three. But in my experience, there's never been four. Unless they're trying to steal a large item, like furniture. ...if that's the case, they'd have to use a van, which we haven't seen. In fact, we haven't seen any improperly parked vehicles in the area. Besides, they picked the wrong time to break into your house. Yesterday It's the start of the carnival in the evening and most people are out for the festivities. It's smart for them to see if you leave the house and then do it as soon as it gets dark. These guys are smart enough to cut the phone first And power cords. I don't get it, why don't they just be a little smarter and pick their best moments?" Decker looked haggard.To hide his nervousness, and also due to exhaustion, he rubbed his forehead. "Maybe they're not clear-headed, maybe they're on drugs. Who knows what the burglars were thinking?" "The thieves were carrying a sawed-off rifle, two Yuzis, and a Mack 10. Who are these guys coming here for? Special police forces?" "Officer, I used to work in Alexandria, Virginia. I've been to Washington DC many times. From what I've heard on TV and read in the papers, it seems like every drug dealer and burglar has a Mike 10 or Yuzi submachine gun. For them, the submachine gun is a status symbol." "That's in the East, and we're in New Mexico. How long have you lived here?" "About a year and three months." "So you're not far off. Maybe you've realized that there's a reason they call Santa Fe 'The Strange City.' It still looks like the Wild West in many ways to outsiders. We've always done things in the old way. If we want to shoot someone, we usually use a pistol or a shotgun. In my 15 years as a police officer, I've never had a case involving so many types of assault weapons. By the way, Mr. Decker -" "how?" "Have you ever worked in a law enforcement agency?" "Law enforcement? No. I sell real estate. How would you ever think—" "Officer Sanchez said that when he found you, your behavior seemed to indicate that you understood the police's working procedures and were familiar with the psychology of a police officer when he encountered such a potential danger. He said that you repeatedly emphasized that you would leave the laundry room Put your hands up and show him your hands first. It's an extraordinary gesture." Decker rubbed his aching forehead. "It's just a reasonable move. I'm afraid the officer will think I'm a dangerous guy." "Also, when I asked you to get dressed, you took it for granted that you couldn't go to the bedroom to get the clothes and had to wait until the forensic team was done." "It makes sense too. I think it's because I watch too much crime TV." "Also, where did you learn this good marksmanship?" "In the army." "Aha!" Esperanza said. "You see, I need to know about my friend." Esperanza nodded. "I was so worried about her that I could hardly concentrate." Esperanza nodded again. "I'll give you an idea, why don't we stop at the hospital on the way to the police station?" "The police station?" Decker said. "There you can make your statement." "Isn't that what I'm doing?" "The statement at the police station counts." There should be a call, Decker thought.He had to call his old boss on a pay phone.He had to tell them what happened and ask them what they were going to do about it. A policeman walks into the kitchen. "Sergeant, the coroner says Mr. Decker can go to the bedroom to get his clothes." Decker stood up. "When we're in the bedroom, please demonstrate it," Esperanza said. "It would be of great help to us if you could demonstrate exactly what happened. And..." "What else?" "I know it's difficult, but this case is extraordinary. It would save a lot of time if we could find out right away instead of waiting until tomorrow." "I don't understand you," Decker said. "What do you want me to do?" "Look at their faces." "what?" "The faces of the dead. Here, not in the morgue. Maybe you can recognize them. You couldn't see their faces in the dark. Now, all the lights are on..." Decker was eager to identify the bodies, too, in case he could identify them.But he had to feign reluctance. "I think my stomach will — I'll throw up." "We don't force you. There are two other options. One is that the forensic doctor is taking photos, and you can take a closer look at the photos in the future; the other is to go to the morgue to identify the corpses. However, sometimes the photos are not realistic enough, and the corpses are frozen. Faces may be deformed. So, even if you met them on the road, you wouldn't think they looked familiar. Now, right after the attack is over, there's always the possibility..." Decker couldn't help but think of Beth, he had to go to the hospital.So, still with a reluctant look, he said, "God bless me. Well, I'll go and get to know them." At St. Vincent's Hospital, wearing jeans and a gray cotton sweater, Decker sat on a hard chair in the waiting room of the emergency ward.It was almost empty.The clock on the wall showed the time, it was almost half past six.Fluorescent lights from the ceiling blinded his eyes.Outside the waiting room door to the left, Esperanza is talking to a standing police officer.Beside the policeman was a ten-year-old boy with a bruised nose and a swollen face, who was tied to a gurney for transporting patients.With his old boots, faded jeans, shawl hair, and leather cowboy hat, Esperanza doesn't look like a detective at all. Esperanza walked into the brightly lit waiting room as a paramedic wheeled a gurney through the electrically controlled turnstiles that led to the emergency room.His long legs and lanky frame made him think of a cougar in his graceful gait.The detective pointed to the gurney. "It was a victim of an accident. Drunk driving, Carnival weekend, typical. Any news from your friend?" "No. The receptionist said a doctor would come to see me." Decker sank even lower in his chair.He felt like his head was being wrapped with a belt.He rubbed his face, stroked his prickly stubble, and smelled gunpowder on his hands.Beth was on his mind all the time. "Sometimes stress can affect memory," Esperanza said. "Are you sure you're not familiar with the corpse you just saw?" "As far as I can remember, I've never seen them before." The disgusting, coppery smell of blood still lingered in Decker's nostrils.Those who were killed were all in their 20s, athletic, wearing dark outdoor clothing with Mediterranean features.Maybe it was Greek, maybe it was French, maybe it was—at the carnival party the night before, Decker had thought back to his last assignment for the CIA, in Rome.Could those olive-skinned gunmen be Italian?Was the attack on his house connected to the events that had taken place in Rome a year and three months earlier?He wished Esperanza would leave him alone for a while so he could hang up. "Mr. Decker, the reason I'm asking if you've been in law enforcement is that I can't fathom what you've managed to do. Four men with offensive weapons hive your house into a hive and you The gun killed all four of them. Don't you think it's incredible?" "Everything about this case is incredible. I still can't believe—" "Most people would be terrified when they heard someone break and enter, and they would hide." "So, Beth and I ran into the big closet." "But before that you grabbed a pistol from the nightstand drawer. You said you were a real estate agent." "That's right." "Why do you think it's necessary to hide a pistol next to your bed?" "To protect my home." “In my experience, hiding a handgun for home security does more harm than good,” Esperanza said, “because the owner of the handgun tends not to use them. As a result, family members are shot and innocent bystanders are shot. Oh, there's a lot of shooting clubs around, and a lot of hunters. But I'm not interested in how often you go to the shooting range to practice pistol shooting or go hunting--when those four guys attack you with heavy weapons, when they You're lucky if you have time to wet your pants before it kills you." "I was literally terrified." "But that doesn't diminish your ability in any way. If you've been in law enforcement, or if you've been in the fire of war, then I understand." "I told you I was a soldier." "Yes." The weather-beaten lines around Esperanza's eye sockets deepened. "You did tell me. Which unit are you in?" "Special Forces. Look, I really don't understand what you mean by asking that." Decker said impatiently. "I learned how to use a pistol in the army. Fortunately, when the emergency came, I still had it." Can remember how to shoot. You make me feel like I did something wrong. A gang of gangsters broke into my house and shot me. Am I breaking the law in self-defense and protecting my friends? Turned upside down, the thief became the good man, and I, the dutiful citizen, became—” "Mr. Decker, I'm not saying you did anything wrong. We have to investigate and you have to testify, that's the law. Any shooting, even if there is a legitimate reason, is subject to a thorough investigation. But I really admire your resourcefulness and calmness. For ordinary people, few people can survive your experience. If it were me, I dare not say that I can do better than you." "That's my mistake. If you don't say I did something wrong, what do you mean?" "I'm just saying there's going to be an investigation." "Well, here's what I'm thinking, the only reason I'm alive is because I'm so angry, berserk rage. These bastards broke into my house, these sons of bitches. They beat my friend, They... I was so angry that I didn't have to be afraid. I just wanted to protect Beth, and by God's grace, I did. I'm proud of it. I don't know if I should tell you this, but I am indeed proud. It is probably not necessary to say this to the police officer, but I will say it anyway. If I had to, I would risk my life to do it again, and I would be proud of it, because I did not let this Help the bastard kill Beth." "You're a wonderful man, Mr. Decker." "Hey, I'm not some hero." "I didn't say you were a hero." "All I have is good luck." "That's right." At this time, a doctor appeared at the door of the waiting room.He is not tall, looks very thin, about 30 years old.He was wearing a green hospital uniform, a stethoscope around his neck, and a pair of small round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. "Which of you is Steve Decker?" Decker stood up quickly. "Can you tell me how my friend is doing?" "The flesh on the lower part of her shoulder was injured. The bleeding has stopped and the wound has been disinfected and stitched. After treatment, she is improving. As long as unexpected complications are prevented, she will recover quickly." Decker closed his eyes and murmured, "Thank God." "Yes, thank God very much indeed," said the doctor, "your friend was brought to the hospital in a state of shock. Her blood pressure was low and her pulse was unstable. Fortunately, her Vital sign data has returned to normal." Is it really back to normal, Decker thought?He worries that things will never return to normal. "When will she be home?" "I don't know yet, it depends on how well she recovers." "Can I go and see her?" "She's resting, I can't keep you here for too long." Esperanza stepped forward. "Is she in her right mind? Can she make a statement to the police?" The doctor shook his head. "I wouldn't even let him in if I didn't think it would be helpful for her to see Mr. Decker."