John Puller 02 - The Forgotten

by David Baldacci

  Carson said, “Puller, what is it?”

  Puller didn’t hear her. Part of him couldn’t believe it. Part of him could. But he would have to make sure. He would have to make calls. He would have to dig. He would have to once more become the investigator.

  It was about time, he thought. It was about damn time.

  CHAPTER 69

  Mason and Ryon were in custody with the Paradise Police Department. Puller had given a full report to Bullock, who was burning the midnight oil. It had taken hours to fill him in on everything and then hours more to complete the paperwork. Justice, it seemed, was obsessed with paper.

  Bullock did not seem pleased to have one more thing added to his plate, but he had his people fill out the necessary reports and ordered Ryon and Mason into holding cells. Mason was screaming about suing the entire city of Paradise, but Ryon had signed a confession and it was confirmed that Isabel was only fourteen, so the stat rape charge seemed solid.

  Isabel was released into her grandmother’s care after confirming in writing the account of what had happened.

  Puller had also filled out a missing persons report on Diego and Mateo. He had told Bullock about the allegation that a man had paid a thousand dollars for them.

  Bullock’s features had turned darker while he listened to this.

  Carson, who had been hovering in the background, said, “Do you have a problem with things like this in Paradise?”

  Bullock glanced sharply up at her. “What do you mean?”

  “With people being bought like that,” said Puller.

  Bullock frowned. “Look, we have a large population of undocumented down here, even with the reverse immigration because of the bad economy. If people are here illegally it’s hard to know if anyone’s disappeared. Folks come and go.” “These are two little kids,” countered Puller. “They lived with their grandmother.”

  “I get that, Puller. But I don’t have the manpower to put on every case of folks disappearing. Not even the big-city departments can do that anymore. It’s just the way things are.”

  “Then things suck,” Puller said.

  “Okay, they suck. What do you want me to do about it?”

  “You’re putting a lot of resources on the Lampert case.”

  “A bomb exploded there.”

  “But no one was hurt.”

  “It’s different.”

  “It’s only different because he has the biggest estate in Paradise.”

  Bullock rifled through some papers and didn’t respond.

  “Any leads on the bomber?” asked Carson. “No,” replied Bullock, still rifling.

  “What about Cookie?” asked Puller.

  “Not a homicide. You know that. Aneurysm popped. So if you were thinking there was a homicidal lunatic loose on Orion Street and that person killed your aunt too, well, stop thinking it.”

  “Just because Cookie’s death was from natural causes doesn’t mean my aunt wasn’t murdered.”

  “Puller, I appreciate you bagging Mason and Ryon, I really do. If the case holds against them they’re scum who deserve to go away to prison. But what I will not appreciate is you running around town playing detective.”

  “I offered my services before and you told me you might take me up on it.”

  “I said might. And I’ve decided not to. You’re not part of this department. You’re in the military. You have no authority here and I have no authority over you. Things would get tricky real fast.”

  “Okay, I guess I understand that.”

  “Thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to process the paperwork on Mason and Ryon.” Puller and Carson left and walked out into a new day with the sun already well up into the sky and the heat and humidity feeling like a pitcher of warm beer poured on them.

  Carson stretched and worked a kink from her neck. “Well, I’m officially tired.”

  “Yeah, not going to bed at night does that to a person.” He looked at his watch. “It’s already ten hundred.”

  “We should catch some bunk time, John. Otherwise we’ll be no good for anything.”

  Back in his room with Sadie bedded down on a large beach towel in the corner, Puller showered. He toweled off, slipped on a pair of boxers, and toppled backward on his bed. He wanted to go to sleep, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He rose and spent the next two hours burning up cell minutes. He found out a great deal of interesting information. All of it dovetailed nicely with what he had been thinking. And if he hadn’t looked at his watch last night, he never would have thought of it. Sometimes the mind did work in mysterious ways. He had more calls to make and more digging to do, but now he lay back on the bed and fell instantly asleep.

  Hours later the knock on his door surprised him. He rose, snagging his Mu out of its holster.

  “Yeah,” he said, standing to the left of the door.

  “You can stand down. It’s just your friendly neighborhood one-star. You decent?”

  Puller opened the door and looked at Carson. She had on a clingy light blue sleeveless dress with a V neckline and two-inch heels.

  “What time is it?” asked Puller, who had gone from groggy to alert at the sight of her.

  “Seventeen hundred.”

  “Damn, I must have really been asleep. It only felt like an hour of sack time.”

  “Can I come in?”

  He stepped back and let her pass. She smelled of ginger and lilacs. Her skin glowed. Her hair was swept back, highlighted by the sun. The dress stopped about mid-thigh.

  She sat on the bed and crossed her long legs as he closed the door.

  “I thought we could talk about the case and then think about dinner. Unless you wanted to hook up with Officer Landry.”

  She was gazing not at his face, but at a spot lower.

  Puller looked down and realized he was still in his boxers.

  “You must have a different definition of decent than I do, Puller.”

  “I don’t want to hook up with Officer Landry,” he said curtly.

  “All I needed to know.”

  She rose, stepped out of her heels, undid a clasp at the back of her dress, and it fell to the floor.

  She had nothing on underneath.

  “This must seem very forward of me.”

  “It actually seems just right.”

  She rubbed her hand across his cheek. “I’ve learned from the Army that when you want to take a position you just have to go for it. Hesitation is for losers.”

  She lay back on the bed and lifted up the covers. “I know you’ve been asleep a long time, but you want to crawl back in here? You won’t be sleeping. That I can guarantee.”

  They kissed lightly at first and then deeper, their fingers probing. When they drew apart Carson looked unsteady, vulnerable and breathless, her hair askew, her lips parted. Tough one-star now naked, helpless, and literally in his hands. He traced her lips with his finger.

  No words necessary.

  He lifted her up, her long legs immediately scissoring around his torso. He laid her back on the bed.

  There was a rim of sweat on her back that Puller flicked his hands over as he gripped her tightly. He rose up and settled down firmly on top. His hands slid to her buttocks and squeezed the soft flesh. Her hands kept busy too, slipping to his thighs and directing him to where Puller now needed to go.

  A familiar motion took over, growing more and more frenetic as the fire inside each of them reached a point of no return.

  Her moans were becoming more rapid. She started to talk. Telling him in his ear precisely what it was she wanted.

  A while later Puller gave one last shudder and fell limp over Carson. She was gasping and trying to catch her breath and telling him how pleased she was at his performance. Together they slowly moved down to lie flat on the bed side by side.

  “That was truly unbelievable, John,” she murmured in his ear.

  It was, thought Puller, and he told her so.

  She turned, faced him, and kissed him, first on the
cheek, then the lips, sliding her fingers up and down one side of his face.

  It had been a while for Puller. He worried whether he could bring the necessary level of passion. Apparently he had. And that made him feel both satisfied and relieved as he lay there next to her. He was still breathing hard, like he’d just completed the Army two-mile in record time.

  “I don’t do this sort of thing lightly, just so you know,” she said.

  “You don’t seem the type.”

  “I’m not,” she said firmly, propping herself up on one elbow and looking at him.

  “I’m not either,” he said.

  “Trust me, I know.”

  “You’ve been checking me out?”

  “Your record speaks for itself. Not a lot of room in there for personal time.”

  “You either.”

  “Simple story, chasing stars.” She rubbed his chest. “So where do we go from here, big fellow?” Puller jerked up and stared at her.

  She laughed. “I’m not looking for an engagement ring and a wedding date, Puller. I’m talking about eating. I’m starved.”

  He smiled. “Then how about we go eat?”

  She kissed him, ran her fingers along a part of his anatomy that made him shudder.

  She whispered in his ear, “Is that an order, soldier?”

  “With all due respect, ma’am, yes, it is.”

  CHAPTER 70

  Their bellies full, Puller and Carson sat back from their empty plates and studied each other.

  “You’re looking at me as though our relationship has changed somehow,” she said.

  He cocked his head, studied her even more intently. “Hasn’t it?”

  They were occupying the back corner of a restaurant. The hour was still early enough that the large dinner crowds had not come in yet. They had the place mostly to themselves.

  “Why? Because we’ve slept together?”

  “I can’t think of any other reason.”

  “Was it that important for you?”

  “I guess it wasn’t for you.”

  “Don’t be offended, John, but it is the twenty- first century. Like guys have for most all of history, girls just sometimes want it for no other reason than they want it.”

  “Okay,” he said slowly.

  She suddenly smiled. “Feeling used?”

  He looked at her, grinned back. “Turning the tables on the male psyche?”

  “About time, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’m a poor representative of the typical male.”

  “That’s what I like about you. Take Landry, for instance.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s young and hot. She wants you in the sack, no leap of deduction there. But she’s no doubt been hit on by every cop in the department.”

  “Probably has.”

  “And you think the DoD is any different?” “Come again?”

  “I’ve had my ass pinched by my share of one- through four-stars. At West Point it was the same. Instructors and boneheaded plebes. Then out in the field with leafs and clusters thinking it was okay what they said and did to a woman in the ranks. Hell, during my tours of combat in the Middle East sometimes it seemed I was fighting a war on both flanks.”

  She picked up her iced tea and glanced at him. “Surprise you?”

  “The Army answer would be yes, it would surprise me.”

  “And your answer?”

  “You know my answer. It’s not the same as the Army’s.”

  “Propositioned, harassed, threatened, even assaulted. Welcome to this ‘man’s’ army, right?” He sat forward, his hands making fists on top of the table. “There are procedures for that shit, Julie. You don’t have to take it. Like you said, it’s the twenty-first century.”

  “Right. And part of this century looks just like all the others. Men are still men, however much more enlightened they may be, or constrained by the threat of lawsuits, courts-martial, wrecked careers, and pissed-off wives. But they still pull that crap because they think they can get away with it. They always think that.”

  “And so you just took it?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She held up her fist. “Sometimes it was this. Sometimes it was a knee to the nuts. Sometimes it was just a stare. And, yeah, sometimes it was paperwork filed and careers torpedoed. But sometimes I didn’t do or say anything. Sometimes I just walked away.”

  He stared at her. “You don’t seem the type to just walk away.”

  “I had long-term plans, Puller. The Army wasn’t just a lark for me. I wanted big things. I wanted to do big things. I wanted the star path. I have one. I want at least two more.”

  “So go along to get along? Not my idea of leadership.”

  “Leadership is a funny thing. The parameters keep changing. But one thing you can’t compromise on is can you look at yourself in the mirror the next day? I always could. No matter what happened. It wasn’t my problem. It was theirs. They shouldn’t be able to look in the mirror. They’re the ones who couldn’t control their dicks.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Puller asked.

  “I didn’t come down here to get you into bed. Well, maybe a part of me did. Now that we’ve done that I can focus on what I really came down here for.”

  “Rand R?”

  “To help you solve a case. What do we do next?”

  “I’m not used to generals asking me for direction.”

  “The best leaders let their people do what they do best. You’re CID. I don’t have a clue about investigating criminal acts. So, again, what do we do next?”

  “The Storrows.”

  “The Storrows?”

  “The couple murdered on the beach. They knew my aunt.”

  “You think that’s why they were killed?”

  “I’m thinking that the Storrows were out a lot. Sometimes walking, maybe sometimes driving.” “Driving, like five miles out and five back?” “Maybe so.”

  “And they told your aunt what they saw?”

  “Or thought they saw. Or suspected. She wrote the letter to my old man. But she really wanted me to come down and look into things. She would have been able to tell me more, but she never got the chance.”

  Puller slipped the letter from his pocket and passed it over to Carson. She ran her gaze down it.

  “Mysterious happenings in the night. People not what they seem. Something just not being right. Pretty cryptic stuff.”

  “My aunt was not given to overstating things. For her those words might as well be screaming murder.”

  “Well, if you’re right about her death, she was entirely justified in thinking so. But if the Storrows are dead, how do we proceed?”

  “Son and daughter-in-law. They reported them missing. I’m hoping they can fill in some gaps.” He rose. “You ready?”

  She smiled up at him and almost purred. “After the sack time? I’m damn well ready for pretty much anything.”

  CHAPTER 71

  Mecho chugged water from a gallon container and stared across at the big house. Everything about it was perfectly designed, perfectly placed. The shell was of amazing beauty. What lay underneath was not so beautiful.

  But then that was how the world often worked.

  He wiped his mouth, put the jug back on the truck, and picked up a rake. He trudged off to a patch of lawn underneath some trees. In a side lawn a large fountain poured water into a concrete catch basin. The perimeter of this “secret garden” was lined with lush plantings, wooden benches placed in nooks and crevices with cobblestone pavers underneath.

  Mecho had worked this section of the estate before. He found it peaceful, meditative. He suspected this had been Mrs. Lampert’s design. He did not think that Peter Lampert was capable of contemplating such a place of serenity.

  As he rounded the corner and set to work with his rake he was surprised to see that one of the garden seats was occupied.

  Chrissy Murdoch held a book in her hands, but she wasn’t looking at it. She was star
ing off in the direction of the water that lay close enough that they could hear the rolling breakers. She wore pale green shorts, a white blouse, and tennis shoes with ankle socks. Her hair was pulled back and fixed in a tight braid. The sun filtered across her face through the branches of nearby trees.

  Mecho watched her, momentarily caught up in both her beauty and her apparent melancholy.

  When she started and looked his way he returned to his work, raking flowerbeds and settling the mulch back into neat, compact mounds.

  “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Every day in Paradise is beautiful, isn’t it?” he replied.

  “Don’t we both know better than that?”

  He looked up, his large fingers gripping the handle of the rake. He said nothing, prompting her to speak again.

  “Have you thought about our encounter on the beach last night?”

  “Have you?”

  “I’ve thought of nothing but that.”

  “I’ve given it little time in my mind. I think you have me confused with someone else.”

  She rose, closed her book, and drifted over to him.

  “So you’re simply a common laborer who maintains a rich man’s property?”

  “I’m holding a rake. My shirt is slick with sweat. I ride in a truck. I live in a hole. Draw your own conclusions.”

  “But you are educated.”

  “Educated or not, I have to make a living. This is not my country. One has to start from the bottom. It is the way with any country.”

  “Some start from the top.”

  “Those with connections. Or family wealth. I have neither. Do you?”

  “I have my looks. I have a certain grace. I know which fork to hold, small talk to make. I know an Italian wine from a French. A Monet from a Manet. The rest I can fudge if need be.” “Then you have your whole life figured out.” “No.”

  He leaned on his rake. “This is very dangerous what we do. Talking like this. Eyes and ears everywhere.”