“Does she live on base?”
Cardarelli shook his head. “No. She has an off-base town home.”
“I’ll need that address.”
Cardarelli gave it to Puller. As he rose, Puller said, “Any developments on the device that made the gun and explosion sounds in pod three that night?”
“None that I’ve heard of. It was the damnedest thing.”
“Yeah,” said Puller. “The damnedest thing.”
A few minutes later he hurried back to his car and accessed a military database on his laptop.
Lenora H. Macri’s photo and service record came up along with her personal history. Puller quickly read through it. Nothing struck him. She had a good record, no blemishes. When he flipped to the screens concerning her personal history, though, things became clearer, or more muddled, depending on how you looked at it.
Her parents were dead and she was an only child. So what were the family commitments that had changed?
And Macri had told him that she had not ordered a search of the guards for the noisemaking device. He had thought that peculiar and perhaps a professional gaffe. But by not conducting a search she had actually accomplished something. She had left available hundreds of suspects who could have smuggled such a device into the prison, and there was no way to prove now which of them might have done it. And by doing so, Macri, if she had been the one to bring the device into the prison, was also lost among a sea of potential suspects. And she might have had enough skill and access to override the security system at the prison, resulting in the cell doors opening rather than locking when the power went out.
He started the car and piloted it toward the address the officer had given him. He had strongly cautioned Cardarelli against phoning Macri and discussing anything that they had talked about. The real reason for the admonition was to ensure that Macri not be forewarned and possibly try to make a run for it.
Energized by perhaps finally having a lead in the case, he gunned the engine and made it to the subdivision on the outskirts of Leavenworth in record time. He parked in a spot where he could see her end-unit town home. He killed the engine and waited. There was a car parked in front of her place. He grabbed a pair of binoculars from his duffel and trained them on the car. Sure enough, hanging from the rearview mirror was a parking tag for the DB. This was her ride, a late-model silver Honda Civic.
His plan was to give it some time and see if she came out, and then he would follow her. If she didn’t come out he was going to conduct another interview with the woman with the goal of making her as uncomfortable as possible.
He waited an hour, but Macri did not leave her unit. He was about to get out of the car when another vehicle pulled in and parked next to Macri’s ride.
Puller’s eyes widened when he saw the person get out of the car and head up the steps to Macri’s home.
Veronica Knox was obviously no longer cooling her heels at the cemetery.
CHAPTER
29
PULLER WATCHED AS KNOX rapped on the door and then rang the bell when no one answered. She looked around and Puller saw her hand dip into her jacket. She withdrew something he couldn’t see but assumed it was a lock pick. Her hands moved around the knob for a few seconds and then she opened the door and stepped in.
As soon as the door closed behind her Puller was out of his car and hustling down the street. He passed by the side of Macri’s house and went around to the back. It was a three-level structure with a deck above and a walk-out basement door below. The door was a slider. There were no curtains on it so Puller could see right inside. It was not built out; concrete foundation walls stared back at him along with stacked cardboard boxes.
The lock on the slider was a simple one and Puller was through the opening and over to the bottom of the stairs in a few seconds. He could hear footsteps above him, probably Knox looking around. And where was Macri? Her car was out front. But she had’t answered the door. Was she here or not?
The familiar firecracker pops signifying gunshots caused Puller to pull his M11, crouch down, and pause, listening. There had been two shots, along with other sounds. He had heard the first shot, then a crash of something hitting something, then the second shot, then a scream and finally a thud. Someone had gone down. Was it Knox? Or Macri, if she was even here?
He took the steps three at a time. There was a door at the top of the stairs. Puller eased it open and did a turkey peek.
He saw no one. He sight-cleared the room behind him and then headed forward. He eased around the corner, his gun straight ahead.
Then he stopped.
Knox was kneeling over Macri, who was sprawled on the floor, blood pouring from a wound in her chest.
Knox still held her gun in her right hand.
“Don’t move, Knox,” Puller called out, but he was prepared for her to move fast, turn, and fire at him.
Instead she held her gun up, her finger clearly off the trigger, the muzzle pointed down. She was surrendering.
“Put it down on the floor and kick it toward me,” ordered Puller.
“She needs an ambulance.”
“I’m sure she does. Kick the gun to me and then I’ll call one.”
Knox did as he instructed. He picked the gun up by the muzzle and laid it on the hall table. He punched in 911 on his phone and ordered an ambulance.
“Step away from her,” he said. “Lie down on the floor, hands behind your head and your legs splayed.”
“Puller, she tried to kill me!”
“I’m sure we’ll sort it all out. But for now, just do as I say.”
Knox got on the floor with her hands behind her head and her legs spread wide.
Puller knelt next to Macri, who was sprawled on her back on the floor next to a chair, her arms up around her head. He spotted a small bullet hole in her dark blouse, and saw the spread of blood across the cloth. He took her pulse at the neck and found none. Her eyes were open and frozen. Her hands were already starting to cool just a bit.
“She’s dead, Knox. Looks like the shot hit her square in the heart.”
“I thought she was dead.”
“What happened? Why are you even here?”
She started to rise but he barked, “Stay down. I won’t tell you again.”
She froze and then settled back down on the floor.
“I came to interview her. I was going to do it with you, but, well, you know how that turned out. I had to hike back to my car from the cemetery thanks to you.”
“Why interview her?”
“Because she didn’t search the guards.”
“Explain that.”
“I read your interview notes last night. She told you she didn’t search the guards for a device that would have made the noise. She said it was because she couldn’t believe any of the guards would have been involved. But of course she should have, regardless of that. There would have been no reason for her not to do so. Except for one.” She turned her head to the side and looked up at him.
“Which was?” he asked.
“If it wasn’t found on the guards then suspicion would have shifted to her. But if she didn’t search them, then—”
“It was like she’d provided an alibi for herself,” said Puller.
Knox said, “So you thought that too. Is that why you’re here?”
“I saw you pick the lock and go in. I went in through the basement. Then I heard the gunshots. Two of them.”
“She fired at me first,” said Knox. “Look at the wall over there.” She pointed with her right hand to the far wall.
Puller looked in that direction. The round had struck the dry-wall and driven into it, exposing a bit of the stud behind it.
Knox went on. “I fired a split second later. And I didn’t miss.”
“Why break in here? Do you have a warrant?”
“No.”
“Then nothing you found would have been admissible in court.”
“I’m not as concerned with the legal niceties,
Puller. I have a job to do.”
“So you just walked in here and she took a shot at you. She had the element of surprise. She was a soldier. How’d she miss you at this range?”
“Because I saw her a split second before she fired. I kicked that chair at her, hit the floor, and fired from there. When they do the post they’ll confirm the trajectory.”
Puller looked at the overturned chair lying next to Macri’s body.
In the distance they could both hear the sirens coming.
“So if you had gone in first instead of me,” Knox continued with a definite edge to her voice, “you might be on the floor on your belly explaining to me how it all went down. Or maybe you might be dead.”
“No, I wouldn’t have broken into the place.”
“Well, I can’t take it back now.”
As the sirens drew closer Puller stepped to the window and looked out. It was an ambulance and two police cars.
Knox said, “So you’ve got control of the board, Puller. How are you going to play this?”
Puller muttered, “Shit.” Then he added, “Get up, Knox.”
She rose slowly and looked up at him. He handed her back her gun.
“I have to say I’m surprised,” she said. “I thought you’d let them throw the book at me.”
“I still might.”
“What do we tell the police?” she said. “I did break in here. I had a gun. It might look like Macri was just defending herself and her home. And I shot her.”
“We tell them the truth.”
“They might ding us for being here.”
“But you did knock and ring the bell first. And you did identify yourself and you had your creds out?”
“Absolutely. She knew who I was. And she still fired.”
“Okay, just follow my lead.”
The police were skeptical at first, but Puller’s demeanor and statement were unshakably professional, as were Knox’s. Their credentials carried great weight with the local police, who were well aware of what had happened at the DB. They took the agents’ statements. Then one of the cops said, looking down at Macri, “What about the body?”
“She’s an active-duty Army captain shot in her home. This is, without exception, a CID investigation. We’ll take charge of the scene. Everything will be preserved.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that,” said the older cop.
“Then you have your superiors call my superiors and they’ll get comfortable. For now, the body doesn’t leave the house and the crime scene is not touched.”
The cop finally nodded and pulled out his cell phone. “Way over my pay grade.”
An hour later the cops left and a CID forensics team from Leavenworth showed up, did an examination of the scene and the body, and then slipped the remains into a zippered body bag and rolled it a way on a gurney.
Puller had assisted the local CID agents with processing the scene, while Knox, after giving her statement—and under strict orders from Puller—sat in the other room.
When the CID agents had finished they left. Puller and Knox were alone in the house.
“Forensics will confirm everything I told you was true, Puller.”
“Forensics can do many things, but it can’t do that, Knox, not entirely.”
She said heatedly, “I almost got my head blown off. It was either her or me. What else could it have been?”
“That you came here to see Macri because she knew something incriminating. And you killed her to silence her.”
“Oh, so now you think I’m both in on whatever this is and also a killer?”
“I don’t know you, Knox. You just showed up on my doorstep. You sure as hell haven’t earned my trust.”
“Well, you haven’t earned mine either,” she shot back.
“So the fact that I didn’t let the cops or CID arrest you carries no weight with you? That I gave you your gun back? That I backed your story with them? That I haven’t slapped you in cuffs? None of that earned me even a bit of trust in your eyes?”
The anger quickly receded from her features and was replaced with embarrassment. “I appreciate that, Puller, I really do. Me being arrested would not be good.”
“Certainly not good for you. And whoever else is behind you at INSCOM. And that could include a lot of folks,” he said provocatively.
She slumped down in a chair. “I thought a lot about what you said back at the cemetery.” She gave him a wry look. “Your Custer brother analogy was original, I’ll give you that.”
Puller leaned against the wall and waited for her to continue.
“What do you know about your brother’s court-martial?”
“Nothing. I told you that already. The file was sealed. And I was overseas when it happened. He was charged with and convicted of treason, that’s all I know.”
“Your brother escaping has made a lot of people in the intelligence field very nervous, Puller.”
“That one I’d worked out for myself.”
“I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”
“People shouldn’t do a lot of things.”
“I came here not just because of your case notes but because of something else.”
“What?” he asked.
“We traced a series of deposits totaling one million dollars into an account in the Caymans that Captain Macri had set up about a month ago.”
“Her payoff for doing what she did?”
Knox nodded.
“Where did the money come from?”
“Untraceable, even by us. We were fortunate to pick it up on her end, but the origin remains a mystery.”
“How did you get on to her?”
“INSCOM had been getting chatter, nothing definite, but certainly strange, that made them start to focus on DB. We did a personnel rundown. A few people raised enough concerns to warrant markers being placed on them. Macri was one of them.”
“What concerns? I found nothing unusual in her record.”
“She was single, no family in the area, and she was ambitious.”
“So are lots of military folks.”
“And she had considerable personal debt.”
“She was an officer. The Army paid for her ride at West Point.”
“She also dabbled in the stock market. Options on margin accounts. She was in the hole for about eighty thousand dollars. Her payoff would have taken care of that debt and left her a lot of extra to get back on her feet.”
“None of that was in her record.”
“No, it wasn’t. What she does with her personal finances is not really the Army’s business. And the amounts she owed hadn’t been called yet.”
“But you guys found out about it.”
“Yes,” replied Knox.
Puller frowned. “So why the hell didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I’m telling you now even though it’ll probably cost me my job if my superiors find out.” She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back in the chair and exhaled a long breath. “We came up through different tracks, Puller. I was bred from day one for clandestine service. That means we trust no one outside our circle and keeping a secret and outright lying are part of the job description. Just as you’re trained to investigate a crime scene, I’m trained to deflect and deceive. I’ve spent years honing those skills, and if they knew I was telling you this, well, I’m not sure what they’d do to me.”
Puller relaxed a bit. “So why are you telling me?”
The Escape Page 19