Amos Decker Quotes

Dark, cool, musty, smoky, where light fell funny and everyone looked like someone you knew or wanted to know. Or, more likely, wanted to forget.

More guns! No guns! Second Amendment! Guns kill! No, people kill!

He got into the car thinking that people were interesting. Sometimes they just couldn’t distinguish the truth from bullshit. Sometimes they didn’t want to. It was often easier just to believe a lie.

He knew exactly what it was like to lose a child. And that fact wouldn’t matter in the least in this circumstance. There could be no commiseration among such people despite the seeming commonality of loss, because it was actually each parent’s totally unique hell.

It would cut into him at unpredictable moments, like a gutting knife made of colored light.

But then he put aside the awkward encounter, which his mind allowed him to do quite easily. He could compartmentalize at an astonishing level. It came from not giving a shit.

The opportunity came up here, and presto, there you go. Sometimes that’s all you need for a major life change: a dream.

Businesses don’t give a crap about creating jobs. They care about making money. With robots, you’ll just need some tech guys to maintain and repair them.

She works in the intelligence field. They’re trained to lie and sell it like the truth. They obviously undergo the same indoctrination as politicians.

His jumpsuit was white, and on the back were the letters D and R printed in black. They stood for “death row”. Mars had equated it to a snake’s rattle, warning folks to stay the hell away.

What grade does she teach?” “Eighth. Where kids make the jump from nice, innocent kids to something a lot more complicated and emotional drama runs deep and hormones are out of control. Some days she comes home looking like she got hit by a bus.” “In my book, all teachers are underpaid,” said Decker.

Look at social media. I could post something about saving orphans and I’d be attacked as a sex-trafficking pedophile. People are such animals online.

I hate the world,” said Lancaster, looking miserable. “I don’t hate the world,” said Decker. “I only hate some of the people who unfortunately live in it.

posting will be at the unemployment office.” “I don’t think

He filled a bowl with cereal that looked like twigs a squirrel had pooped out.

Kids make everything better. And harder.

I let circumstances beyond my control define me. That’s not good. That’s worse than lying to yourself. It’s like you’re lying to your soul.

You know people who read are a lot more tolerant and open-minded than those who don’t.” “Great,

He tried several keys he had taken from her purse until one worked.

I guess all judges get threats and stuff. Hell, these days, who doesn’t? Look at social media. I could post something about saving orphans and I’d be attacked as a sex-trafficking pedophile. People are such animals online.

But if your brain went, you were also gone, though your body lingered and became dependent on someone else to take care of it. And that would be your loved ones’ last impression of you, even though it wasn’t really you, at least not anymore.

Decker shook his head and stood. “It goes beyond mere eccentricity. She also has a run-down farmhouse and a crappy car that she drives to work and on her rounds as the proverbial Good Samaritan.” “What does that tell you?” “If you were a spy and had

But still, this was his hometown, his home state. He had played for the mighty Buckeyes and then, albeit briefly, the Cleveland Browns. He was a product of the Midwest. He never got too high and never got too low. He looked at the world realistically. He was a jeans and beer kind of guy. He could never fit inside a Ferrari, not that he would ever want to. He always tried to do the right thing. He helped others when they needed it. And he tracked down killers nonstop. And that was pretty much the sum total of Amos Decker.

Decker looked behind him. 'That's nice.' 'What?' said Mars, looking too. 'Where the NAACP office was they built a public library. You know people who read are a lot more tolerant and open-minded than those who don't.' 'Great, so let's get everybody in the world a library card.

The prisoners had also turned to look at Mars. Those doing push-ups and pull-ups stopped. They wiped off their hands and moved back against the wall. And waited. Their expressions were clear. Thank God it’s not me. The news had spread fast. Mars might be getting out after nearly being put to death.

Life had coincidences. Serendipity abounded. Wrong place, wrong time. It came as the result of seven billion people jostling each other within the span of a single planet. But there was an unwritten rule in police work: There are no coincidences. All you needed was more in-depth investigation to show that there are no coincidences.

ON HIS BED at the Residence Inn, Decker laid out all the construction plans for the American Grill that David Katz had built about fifteen years ago. The plans seemed pretty normal for such a restaurant buildout, but he didn’t recognize the name of the architect set forth on the plans. In fact, the address of the business showed that it was from out of state

And it was a good thing. Because despite all the unsettling things that his mind had been doing while he was here, the ability to be hugged or have your hand clenched by another without flinching, that simple act, which just about everyone else took for granted, had brought Decker a bit closer to the person he had once been. Before he had died on a football field and woken up as someone else entirely.

Decker blinked awake and sat up in his bed. He looked around, for a few moments unsure of where he was. Virginia. Quantico. The FBI gig. Right. He got up and padded to the bathroom. After that he walked into the kitchen and looked out the window. It was still well dark. He slid out the coffeepot with the intent to make and drink a pot while he went over case notes. Then he looked down at his massive gut and the slight wheezing apparently caused by merely getting out of bed and taking a leak, and sighed. “Shit,” he muttered.

her room now?” They were led down the hall by Beth. Before she turned away she took a last drag on her smoke and said, “However this comes out, there is no way my baby would have had anything to do with something like this, drawing of this asshole or not. No way. Do you hear me? Both of you?” “Loud and clear,” said Decker. But he thought if Debbie were involved she had already paid the ultimate price anyway. The state couldn’t exactly kill her again. Beth casually flicked the cigarette down the hall, where it sparked and then died out on the faded runner. Then she walked off. They opened the door and went into Debbie’s room. Decker stood in the middle of the tiny space and looked around. Lancaster said, “We’ll have the tech guys go through her online stuff. Photos on her phone, her laptop over there, the cloud, whatever. Instagram. Twitter. Facebook. Tumblr. Wherever else the kids do their electronic preening. Keeps changing. But our guys will know where to look.” Decker didn’t answer her. He just kept looking around, taking the room in, fitting things in little niches in his memory and then pulling them back out if something didn’t seem right as weighed against something else. “I just see a typical teenage girl’s room. But what do you see?” asked Lancaster finally. He didn’t look at her but said, “Same things you’re seeing. Give me a minute.” Decker walked around the small space, looked under piles of papers, in the young woman’s closet, knelt down to see under her bed, scrutinized the wall art that hung everywhere, including a whole section of People magazine covers. She also had chalkboard squares affixed to one wall. On them was a musical score and short snatches of poetry and personal messages to herself: Deb, Wake up each day with something to prove. “Pretty busy room,” noted Lancaster, who had perched on the edge of the girl’s desk. “We’ll have forensics come and bag it all.” She looked at Decker, obviously waiting for him to react to this, but instead he walked out of the room. “Decker!” “I’ll be back,” he called over his shoulder. She watched him go and then muttered, “Of all the partners I could have had, I got Rain Man, only giant size.” She pulled a stick of gum out of her bag, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. Over the next several minutes she strolled the room and then came to the mirror on the back of the closet door. She appraised her appearance and ended it with the resigned sigh of a person who knows their best days physically are well in the past. She automatically reached for her smokes but then decided against it. Debbie’s room could be part of a criminal investigation. Her ash and smoke could only taint that investigation.

the parking lot out there, the right and left are reversed.

Well, the homes directly across the street are empty because of foreclosures. And it’s a working-class neighborhood. There might not have been many people at the other homes at that time of the morning. And the school is set far enough back that the sounds might not have carried.” “But presumably you had traffic along the street. And kids and teachers at the windows probably screaming their heads off. Cell phones hitting 911. Cruisers rolling. I was at Precinct Two when the guys started pouring out of the place. What is the time to the school from there by car? Fifteen minutes?” “About that, yeah.” “And even if nobody on the outside saw him leave, there had to be eyeballs at the school windows. Kids using phones as cameras. From what I remember, there’s not an exit in this building that’s not visible from some classroom window.” “And you knew this because you, what, snuck out a lot?” “All the time.” “Well, you got me there. I went to high school in the next county. This is your turf, not mine.” “And that still doesn’t cover his ingress. How did he walk in here and no one see him? Even if it was in the rear. There are windows overlooking it.” “Yeah, but the second and third floors are unused.” “But the first floor has windows

folderol of attention was to die on a football

turned back around before she could focus on him. It was at this moment that the black-robed Judge Christian Abernathy stepped into the courtroom. He was old, bespectacled, and frail, and his white hair, what was left of

this passage and escaped via the cafeteria or

The door opened and Decker was looking down at a small, balding man with a gray beard and wearing dark glasses. He was well into his seventies.

inside his head. It was said that savants,

flake hit the sidewalk and then melted almost immediately. Lancaster

screen,

He didn’t like having to pay for a phone that had Internet access, but it was like having a huge library and an army of research assistants on the cheap. He

was already gone for good. “Hello, who is this?” Watson wasn’t slurring his words.

He slipped on the floor and this time his

An SJH, in ballistics shorthand. It was a brutally efficient piece of ordnance. Not exactly a dum-dum, named after Dum-Dum, India, where a British army officer had invented a bullet that mushroomed out on impact and acted as a miniature wrecking ball inside the body. Innovation wasn’t always good for you. The .45 SJH had blown right through the front of Cassie Decker’s skull and ended up lodged deep in her brain. It had been dug out of her during the autopsy and the slug preserved as evidence in her murder investigation. It had retained enough of its shape

time in the equation. They had a lot to lose.

Grand master of memory? What did she have to do?” “Three tasks. The first was to memorize one thousand random numbers in an hour. Next, she had to memorize the order of ten decks of cards in an hour. And lastly, memorize the order of one deck of cards in under two minutes.

prevaricate. As a detective and now a PI, he had to

there show

down.

You mean on YouTube?” “No, I mean I was watching the game when you got laid out. Hardest hit I’ve ever seen. I don’t know how you survived it, Amos, I really don’t.” “Why’d

comments because he needed Slick to

shirt cuffs, and said, “Mr. Leopold has been charged with three counts

He looked up at Wyatt, who was

Marks from Debbie Watson’s feet.

did begin his shooting at

But most of

I’ll be back,” he called over

In his mind progress was always to be measured in inches, especially when you didn’t have yards or even feet of success to show off.

KING & MAXWELL SERIES Split Second Hour Game Simple Genius First Family The Sixth Man

DECKER

town.

This guy had taken great care to not allow even a piece of his skin to be observed. They didn't even know if he was black or white. Although most mass murderers were white. And male.

chimed

In other words, they wanted to make a synthetic plague that was actually far deadlier than the original version.

me a way

It’s like Mark Twain said, everybody complains about the weather, but no one ever does a damn thing about it.

Meaning evil only wins—” “—when good men and women do nothing.

any type of nearby threat. Finally, he opened his eyes

It had forced him into being a different person, as though a stranger’s personality and attendant quirks had been superimposed over his own. But now the stranger’s footprint was Decker. I am now the stranger. I’m a stranger in my own body.

He had avenged the murders of his wife, daughter, and brother-in-law. But that did nothing to take away the loss, the pain. Nothing ever could. Time did not heal wounds for Decker. The passage of time was irrelevant to his unique mind. Everything he had ever experienced in life was as freshly minted in his brain as the moment it was created.

You don’t make widgets for a living. You find justice in this fucked-up world we all live in. You give the dead a voice. You hold guilty people accountable.” “I used to think that. Now I believe I was just chasing something I’ll never catch.” “You never used to believe that. I lost count of the number of times you told me that the only thing that matters is that when someone does something bad, they cannot be allowed to get away with it. Nothing else mattered, you said, if we let that slide. Because that one thing dictates the sort of world we will all live in.

In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote.

The cooler here holds twenty bodies. That used to be plenty. Never got filled up. Then the opioid crisis hit full force and the city had to buy a refrigerated trailer for excess capacity.

sort of thing. Think you

that one could never be the same afterward. It pushed bone, muscle, ligaments, and brains to places they were never intended to go. It was no wonder that so many men who had played the game were now suffering the long-term debilitating effects of entertaining millions and making large sums of money for doing so.

remarkable was that she had been the first female detective in the Burlington Police Department. As far as he knew she was still the only one. And she had been his partner. They had made more arrests leading to more convictions than anyone in

Well, that’s way above my pay grade

Not in the press, no. It would cause more trouble than is warranted. People need to have faith in their government.

then

synesthesia

So it was a true sunrise, where the colors changed at first subtly and then suddenly transformed the heavens in a way that no other occurrence could. Short of a nuclear bomb and its towering mushroom cloud. Yet both were transformative in their own right. One side of the world was lit, the other enveloped in blackness. The bomb’s kiss was for real. The sun’s movement was a metaphor for either darkness descending or light arising.

It would have been truly catastrophic and beyond this country’s capability to adequately respond.

People need to have faith in their government.” Decker said, “Well, maybe the government might want to consider earning that faith.

Alice

have put up a bond of five hundred dollars—significant

Decker’s longtime FBI partner, Alex Jamison, had been transferred to New York and found what looked to be love with a Wall Street investment banker. His old boss at the FBI, Ross Bogart, had retired and was learning to play golf—badly, he had heard—in Arizona.

That was the thing about life. You actually had to spend time living it. Or else what the hell did any of it really matter?

We have not one but two killers. And as implausible as it sounds, I don’t think either one knew about the other.

She did ask for the name. And I gave it to her. Okay, now I remember. After

Fall was nearly here, but summer was still hanging on, dragging its heat-flamed and moisture-rich knuckles across the stark tundra.

that neither of them had seen before. “If people

work there.

WHAT ARE THOSE?” asked Jamison as they neared their destination. She indicated fiery gold plumes that winked in the darkness like ghoulish holiday lights as they zipped past. “Gas flares,” said Decker. “Coming off the oil wells. Natural gas is found with oil. They drill for both up here. But they sometimes vent the gas off and ignite it at the end of the oil wellhead. I guess it costs too much to do anything else with it in certain situations and they don’t necessarily have the infrastructure to pipe it out of here.” Jamison looked stunned. “Do you know how much gas we’re talking about?” “One stat I read said each month the gas they burn off could heat four million homes.

mansion,

They say time heals, but I’m not sure about that. Not at all.” “Time doesn’t necessarily heal, but it allows perspective, and the fading of the loss. But not for me.” He placed a finger against his head. “I can’t forget. Not even a little bit. Nothing fades, nothing gets better. It’s a new movie release every day, but it’s the same movie.

Kaia

We’ve all lost somebody close, Tyler. It’s how we deal with it that counts, because if you mess that up nothing else really matters.

my sister Renee. They live in California.” He

DC is expensive. Quite a few lawmakers choose to essentially live in their offices, though they tried to ban that, but when do politicians listen to rules?

You’ve been in this game long enough to know that when it doesn’t, those who ducked their responsibilities will point fingers at others. That apparently qualifies as leadership in certain places.” “Don’t you get tired of this shit, sir?” “I became tired of it my first day on the job.” Blue Man leaned forward. “But if all of us who hate the status quo were to leave, then the status quo would not only remain, it would become intractable.” “Meaning evil only wins—” “—when good men and women do nothing. I choose to do something.

you ran when it was fifty degrees below zero, your lungs would hemorrhage and you’d drown in your own engorged corpuscles.