John Puller 02 - The Forgotten

by David Baldacci

After he was finished there, he drove directly to his aunt’s house. The sun was high, the day was hot, and the humidity had crept so high that simply walking produced rivulets of sweat. But Puller had spent many years of his life in heat even worse than this and it had little effect on him.

  He reentered his aunt’s house using the key that the lawyer Mason had given him. Now that he had his duffel he could make a proper investigation.

  He unpacked his duffel and spent the next five hours going over the interior room by room.

  The only remarkable thing he found was nothing.

  The only fingerprints were his aunt’s. That was why he had stopped by the funeral home, to take a set of elimination prints from Betsy Simon.

  There was no sign of forced entry, no indication of a struggle.

  He found a box of photo albums stuffed in a closet next to the small laundry room. He looked through a few of them and then stuck the box into his duffel. He would look at them later.

  He moved his investigation out to the backyard, where he followed his aunt’s presumed path from the house to the fountain area. He got down on his knees and examined the stone surround, the disturbed stones under the water, the holes in the lawn made from the walker. If his aunt’s body had still been here he might have seen something that was not right, but it wasn’t and thus he couldn’t.

  He sensed someone watching him and turned and saw Cookie peering over the fence.

  “Did you grow?” Puller asked.

  “I’m standing on a box. What are you doing?” asked Cookie.

  “Just satisfying my curiosity.”

  “You really think she was murdered, don’t you?”

  “What do you think?”

  Cookie seemed alarmed by the question. “I don’t have an opinion. I thought it was an accident, but I wouldn’t know what to look for.”

  “Well, I do know what to look for and I’m not finding much.”

  “Did you speak to Mason?”

  Puller rose and went over to the fence. On the box Cookie and he were close to eye to eye.

  “I did. He was helpful. What do you know about him?”

  “Like I said, good lawyer. He’s handling my estate too. He does the same for lots of people.” “You know him beyond that?”

  “Some. But we’re not really friends socially.” “Did you hear about the bodies washing up on the beach?”

  Cookie nodded sadly. “The Storrows. I knew them. Nice people. I wonder what the hell happened.”

  “The police are checking it out.”

  “The paper wasn’t very full of details. Do you know anything?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t be at liberty to say.”

  “Are you working with the police?” asked Cookie.

  “No. I tend to work solo. But I’m just naturally tight-lipped with details like that.”

  Cookie glanced over his shoulder at the fountain. “Still gives me the creeps, thinking of her dying there.”

  Puller said, “I guess I need to arrange for the funeral service and all.” He didn’t have a clue as to what this entailed.

  “Betsy told me that she wanted to be cremated. It should be in her will.”

  “Mason didn’t mention that.”

  “Did he give you a copy of the will?”

  “Yes.”

  “You should read it. Betsy was very particular about her funeral arrangements. I’m sure she spelled them out to the letter.”

  “Thanks. I guess I should have already done that.”

  “You’re young. You don’t think about wills and funeral arrangements.”

  “I’m also a soldier. We tend to think about them more than most people.”

  Puller left Cookie, went back inside, and packed up his equipment. He took one last look around and hauled his duffel out to the Tahoe. He sat in the driver’s seat and pulled out his aunt’s last will and testament. After skimming over most of the legalese, including the part leaving the house to him, he arrived at the provisions about her final arrangements.

  Betsy Simon did indeed want to be cremated. She had prefunded the service with Bailey’s Funeral Home. That included an urn for the ashes and a request that they be spread over the Pennsylvania countryside where she had grown up.

  He tucked the will back into his pocket. He would speak with Bailey’s about this. He figured they were probably very experienced with cremating folks down here.

  He was starving and he had no place to stay. He would take care of the food first, the lodgings next. He also had to check in at the police department. He figured Landry would soon require his sworn allegations to process the eight idiots who had come after him last night.

  He checked his phone and was surprised that there was no text from her.

  Or Bullock.

  He wondered if the moron Hooper had stopped puking yet.

  And then he stopped wondering about Hooper.

  He put the keys in the ignition, pulled his Mu, and hit the gas, pointing the Tahoe straight at the car.

  Sometimes the direct way was the best.

  CHAPTER 39

  Puller slid the nose of his Tahoe to within an inch of the passenger door of the other car. The man seated there stared at him in surprise. The driver was trying to back the car up. Puller eased the nose forward until his hood was touching the car’s passenger door. If the driver backed up any more, he was going to seriously damage his vehicle.

  Puller watched both men for any sudden movements. He raised his gun into view, rolled his window down, and motioned the passenger to do the same.

  The man did so. “What the hell are you doing?” he barked.

  “Not what I wanted to hear,” replied Puller as he climbed out of the Tahoe and came around to stand next to the car, the Mu held at an angle that would allow him to shoot at his target within a millisecond and not miss.

  “What I wanted to hear was why you’ve been tailing me. And I would follow that up by asking who the hell are you.”

  All three men turned their heads when they heard the screech of tires, followed by the whoop of a siren. A police cruiser had turned down the street and was advancing on them.

  Puller saw the driver first and his heart sank.

  It was Hooper.

  Next to him was Landry.

  Hooper looked excited.

  Landry seemed uncertain.

  Puller slipped his Mu back into its belt holster as the two cops got out of their car. Hooper had his gun pulled.

  Of course you do, thought Puller.

  Landry kept her gun holstered, but placed her hand on top of its butt.

  Hooper advanced, swiveling his gun back and forth until he finally kept it pointed at Puller. “You just can’t keep out of trouble, buckaroo,” he said gleefully.

  “I wasn’t aware I was in trouble,” replied Puller.

  Hooper looked at the proximity of the Tahoe to the other car and said, “So you always park this close to other vehicles?”

  “If I want to have a private conversation with somebody, yeah,” said Puller.

  This comment made Landry snort and Hooper scowl.

  “You keep up with the bullshit your ass will be in a lockup so fast you’ll get a nosebleed,” he snapped.

  Puller said nothing to this inane comment because there was really nothing to say.

  Even the guys in the car looked like they wanted to laugh, and probably would have except Hooper was now pointing his gun at them.

  Puller said to Landry, “Can you ask your partner to holster? His finger is past the trigger guard. To me that means you’re going to fire.”

  “Hoop,” said Landry in an admonishing tone. “No more accidents, okay?”

  More accidents? thought Puller.

  “We know he’s armed,” said Hooper, indicating Puller.

  “I am armed because I’m required to be by the United States government,” pointed out Puller. “You can take it up with the Pentagon if you want, but I think federal trumps state, at least in this instance.”<
br />
  He pointed at the two men in the car. “But now they might be armed too. I don’t know for sure.”

  Landry’s gaze flicked to the car’s occupants. She stepped forward, her hand still gripping the butt of her sidearm. “Will you gentlemen please step out of the car with your hands where we can see them?”

  “I can’t open my door,” said the guy on the passenger side. “His truck is blocking it.”

  “Then slide across and out the driver’s side,” said Landry sharply.

  With Hooper keeping his aim on them and now ignoring Puller, the two men slid out of the car, their hands held out in front of them.

  “Are you armed?” asked Landry again.

  Each man looked at the other.

  The driver said, “We are not armed.”

  “Open your jackets,” said Landry.

  The men did so and there was nothing to see except shirts and belts.

  Puller said, “Why have you been following me?”

  The driver looked at him. He was about six feet tall, broad shoulders tapering to a slim, hard waist. His companion was likewise built. Their buzz cuts matched too. Up close they looked even more military.

  “Who says we’ve been following you?”

  “I do,” said Puller. “This is the fourth time I’ve seen you. Twice on this street.”

  “It’s a small town,” said the man.

  Landry said, “Let us see some ID.”

  The men pulled out their wallets and handed over driver’s licenses. Landry wrote the info down in her notebook while Puller tried but failed to see the names and addresses on the licenses.

  She handed them back.

  The first man said, “Unless you have some reason for holding us, I’m assuming we can go now?”

  Landry glanced at Puller and then back at the men and said, “Can you tell me what you’re doing in Paradise?”

  “Just down here on vacation,” replied the man.

  “Have you been following this gentleman?” asked Landry.

  “No. I’m thinking about buying a place on this street, actually. Even contacted a Realtor about it.” He flicked out a card to her. “This is her name and contact info. She’ll vouch for me. We were sitting here going over what places we were going to check out when this guy came flying at us. Seems to me that instead of questioning us, you should be arresting him. I thought he was going to ram us with his truck.”

  Landry glanced down at the card and then frowned as she glanced once more at Puller. Puller could read all the doubts in that look.

  She handed the card back to the man. “Thank you for your cooperation. I’m sorry for any inconvenience.”

  Hooper said, “Do you want to press charges against him?” He indicated Puller.

  The man eyed Puller, as though trying to absorb every detail of his face.

  “Nah. He doesn’t seem worth the trouble.” He smiled at Puller while his friend let out a snort of laughter. “So just move your truck and we’ll be on our way.” He drew closer to Puller. “But you try something like that again, I won’t be as accommodating.”

  Landry stepped between them. Perhaps she had caught the look from Puller that indicated he was about a millisecond from breaking the man in half.

  “That’s enough of that,” she said, pushing them apart. “Puller, move your vehicle. Now. Gentlemen, you have a good day.”

  Puller climbed into his truck and backed it up just enough to allow the other car to creep past. Then the driver accelerated, turned the comer, and was gone.

  Puller got back out of the truck. “What were their names?” he asked.

  “That is none of your damn business,” snapped Hooper.

  Puller looked at Landry inquiringly.

  She shook her head. “It is none of your business, Puller. And just be glad he didn’t press charges. Now from here on, just stay away from them.”

  “Me staying away from them isn’t the problem. They’re following me.”

  “So you say,” barked Hooper. “Doesn’t make it true.”

  Landry said, “Puller, their story does sound logical. If they’re looking for a house on this street.” She gazed up and down it. “And I see three for-sale signs.”

  Puller knew this was bullshit. The guys had their cover story. But Diego had seen them near the Sierra. He didn’t think there was any real estate in that area that would interest the two men. But he kept that to himself.

  “Okay,” he said. “You’re probably right.”

  Landry clearly didn’t believe him, and Hooper clearly still wanted to arrest him.

  He turned to climb back into the Tahoe. Hooper said, “How do you know we’re done with you yet?”

  Puller turned and stared at him expectantly. “Okay. Are you done with me?”

  Hooper looked surprised by the question and glanced at Landry. She said, “Hoop, finish the patrol on this street. I want to have a word with Mr. Puller.”

  Hooper climbed into the cruiser and hit the rack lights and engaged the crowd control button. The blasting noise caught Landry completely off guard.

  “Damn it, Hoop, just go,” she snapped.

  He sped off faster than he should have on a residential street.

  “How do you stand working with that idiot?” asked Puller.

  She ignored the comment and said, “What is going on with you?”

  “Come again?”

  “Are you getting paranoid?”

  “I’m not paranoid. Those guys are following me.”

  “You have proof of that?”

  “I’ll get it.”

  “What you need to get, Puller, is to just leave it alone. Those guys didn’t look like the types to be messed with.”

  “And you think I do?”

  She looked over his shoulder, her arms folded across her chest.

  He said, “I know I need to come down to the station and press charges against the guys from last night.”

  “You might not want to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “They want to press charges against you.” “Come again?”

  “They said you attacked them.”

  “I did. Before they attacked me.”

  “You might not want to go around admitting that.”

  “They were in my room, waiting to ambush me. Little hard to spin that.”

  “They’ve already been released on their own recognizance.”

  “Things work that fast in Paradise?”

  “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “I was told those guys didn’t have gang connections. But someone is apparently pulling strings behind the scene.”

  “I’m just a beat cop, Puller. I don’t get into stuff like that.”

  “So they’re out on the street waiting to come after me again?”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” “Why?”

  “Because I told them you were a super special forces homicidal maniac who could kill them in more ways than they could even imagine. I told them that the next time you would kill all of them and then get your Army buddies to come down here and help kill their families for good measure.”

  Puller cracked a smile. “You actually told them that?”

  “That was the gist of it. And for the Latinos I said it all in Spanish so they would get the point without having to translate. I said if they left you alone, I could guarantee their safety. Otherwise all bets were off. They all looked scared shitless when they left. And I really don’t think they’re going to press charges. They’re too afraid of you.” Puller said, “Okay, I appreciate the assist.” “You’re welcome. Now you can focus on what happened to your aunt.”

  Puller smiled. “I wish every local cop I worked with was as cooperative as you.”

  “You treat me with respect, I reciprocate. The moment you stop doing that, so do I.”

  “I’ve got no problem with that.” He paused, wondering whether he should even venture there. But it would be a good way to ask more questio
ns. And he found he was enjoying Landry’s company. She could be a good asset for him on this case if it turned out his aunt’s death wasn’t an accident.

  “You free for dinner?”

  She looked surprised and, Puller thought, a bit pleased by the invitation.

  “You let me stay at your place rent-free,” he said in a joking manner. “I’d like to do something for you.”

  She thought about this for a few seconds. Part of Puller thought she was going to say no.

  “I get off duty in two hours. Where do you want to go?”

  “Your town. I’ll defer to you.”

  “There’s a place called Darby’s on the main drag.”

  “Okay. I’ve seen it.”

  “Say about eight o’clock?”

  “Sounds good.”

  He climbed into his truck and drove off. But he was no longer thinking about dinner with Landry.

  Tweedledum and Tweedledee in the sedan. He needed to know who they were and whether they were connected just to him somehow or to what had happened to his aunt.

  And maybe he had a way to do that.

  He picked up his phone.

  CHAPTER 40

  “Well, well, I was wondering when the hell I was going to hear from you.”

  “Just been a little busy, General Carson,” said Puller.

  “General Carson? I thought we had moved to Julie.”

  “It’s still working hours, ma’am. Wasn’t sure how you felt about that.”

  Julie Carson was a one-star stationed at the Pentagon in the J2’s office. The J2 was a two-star who gave the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs the daily briefing. Carson was the vice chair and gave the briefing when the J2 was unavailable. She had helped Puller during his time in West Virginia.

  She was forty-one, very attractive, as fit as a triathlete, and as tough as Puller. They had had a rocky start, but things had turned around after they’d found some common ground.

  “What I feel is that you can call me Julie.” “Okay. I need a favor, Julie.”

  “What, no dinner first?”

  “It’s always a question of timing.”

  He heard her sigh. “Okay, what do you need?” Puller briefly outlined his dilemma to her in succinct, military-crisp sentences that gave her the minimum amount she needed to follow along. The habit was so ingrained in him that he didn’t even realize he was doing it.