The Escape (John Puller, #3)(100)

Puller couldn’t go on because his voice was cracking. He stopped reading and looked up.

Robert started to say something but then stopped, put his elbows on his thighs, and hung his head.

When his big brother started to weep, Puller sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

The Pullers sat there for a long time together, big, strong, and courageous men transformed back into two little boys by an old man’s loving words that had come a lot later than they should have.





CHAPTER





50



PULLER met Knox in the lobby of the W Hotel the next morning. Though he tried hard to hide it, she apparently noticed something different.

“You okay?” she asked.

He rubbed his eyes. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

She didn’t look sympathetic. “Join the club. I don’t think I’ve slept a full night since I met you.”

They walked out of the hotel and to his car parked on the street. The air was surprisingly crisp and cool, with a light breeze. A jet overhead made a sharp left bank to avoid flying over restricted airspace after taking off from Reagan National.

“So while you weren’t sleeping, did you think anymore about our ‘nightcap’ with Donovan Carter?” asked Knox.

“Carter gave us an excuse to go back and talk to Reynolds again.”

“The visit your brother made to Reynolds?”

“Exactly.”

“She’ll be at work now most likely.”

“She works for DoD. I’m a duly assigned military investigator. Nothing prohibits us from interviewing her while she’s at work.”

“What are you going to ask her?”

“I want her take on the encounter with Bobby. And I want to watch her while she answers the questions.”

“Body language cues?”

“They often tell more than what the person actually says.”





Puller had called ahead and Susan Reynolds met them in her office, a modest space that looked, oddly enough, both cluttered and organized. Her security lanyard was around her neck, her features were placid, and she greeted them politely and indicated chairs for them to take.

She sat down and waited.

As Puller lowered himself into the chair he let his gaze sweep her office. He saw no items that were not work-related. The woman didn’t even have any plants.

As his gaze came back to her, he found that she was staring at him. And Puller could tell she knew exactly what he had been doing.

“I like to keep things streamlined and separate,” she said. “Professional and personal.”

“I can understand that.” He pointed at one photo showing a younger Reynolds in a line of all men on what appeared to be an airstrip. “That looks interesting.”

She turned to look at it. “Back in the 1990s I was part of a START verification team when the U.S. and the Soviets were whittling down their nuclear stockpiles. As you can see from the photo, I was the only woman on either team, and the youngest by far. Quite a feather in my cap. But I had worked hard for the opportunity.”

“Interesting work?” asked Knox.

“Yes. Although by seven o’clock each night the Russians had drunk enough vodka to float an aircraft carrier. So I’m not sure how accurate their verification was. But I never touched a drop and I crossed every t and dotted every i,” she added emphatically.

“I’m sure you did,” said Puller. “Now, we’ve been told that Robert Puller—”

Reynolds cut in. “Your brother, you mean. I knew it the first time we met.”

Puller continued, “We were told that Robert Puller came to see you?”

“Came to kill me, more likely.”

“But he didn’t kill you.”

“I was able to get away, found a gun, and he ran like the coward he obviously is.”

“So he tied you up?”

“No, he put a gun to my head and then injected me with what he said was poison. I couldn’t believe the bastard had done that. Maybe prison made him crazy.”

“So you were able to overpower him and get to your gun?”

“I didn’t say I overpowered him. He’s a man and, as you know, he’s far larger than I am. But I’m not exactly a weakling. I managed to hit him in the face with a lamp. Before he could recover I got to the bookcase. I keep a forty-five pistol there. I drew it. When he realized I was armed and ready to shoot, he turned and ran. I tried to stop him, but he was too fast. I called the police but they couldn’t find him.”

“You hit him in the face with a lamp?”

“I did.”

“That must have hurt.”

“I hope it hurt like hell,” she said. “He deserved to be hurt a lot.”

“Bruised and bloody probably.”

“Yes. He was. And surprised, I’m sure.”

“And what did he want?” asked Puller.

“He threatened me. He wanted me to confess that I had done something wrong.”

“Why would he do that?” asked Knox.

Reynolds peered at her as though just that minute realizing she was there.

“How am I supposed to think like a nutcase? He’s desperate. He’s escaped from prison. He’s killed a man. Maybe two men.”