The Escape (John Puller, #3)(104)

Daughtrey’s career had proceeded along a tried-and-true formula of nose to the grindstone, checking off all the boxes for continued promotion, and going to where he needed to go and doing what he needed to do at each of those stops in his relentless chase for the shoulder stars. In that regard he was like many men and women who had done the very same thing over the years. His strengths and experiences, however, had not been in the battlefield, but rather in technology, which might be the battlefield of the future. At least that’s what everyone at the Pentagon seemed to be saying. The general consensus was that Daughtrey was well liked and his death had been a huge loss to the country’s defenses.

Puller collected all of these facts and then sent them in a coded message to his brother.

He next turned to the issue of Reynolds’s dead FBI agent husband. He found some old news clippings on the Internet. Adam Reynolds had been an agent in the Washington, D.C., Field Office. He was only in his early thirties when he was hit and killed by a car near his home.

Puller had a contact at the Bureau and made a call to that person, who remembered the case and had actually worked briefly with Adam Reynolds many years before. Reynolds had been one of the few FBI agents ever killed, although it had not been in the line of duty.

“He was walking back from a coffee shop in a strip mall near his house,” said the agent.

“How do you know that?”

“If I remember correctly, they found the coffee cup about ten feet from his body. And someone from the coffee shop remembered him coming in.”

“Where was this exactly?” asked Puller.

“In Burke, Virginia. His wife said he walked there all the time. Adam liked his coffee, like most of us.”

“Was his wife home at the time?”

“No, I don’t believe so. No, that’s right. She was out of the country. She worked for Uncle Sam too. Don’t remember where.”

“But they had young kids back then. Who was with them?”

“I’m not sure about that. They might have been old enough to stay by themselves for a few minutes. You know things were different back then. You could leave your kids for a bit without people screaming at you or seeing it posted on Facebook.”

“And they never found the driver?”

“Never did. It was pretty late at night. Where he got hit there were no houses, so no one saw anything.”

“Did you think he was targeted? That it was work-related?”

“We always think that initially. But the official conclusion was that it was probably some drunk who hit him and then took off. Damn shame, because Adam was a good guy.”

“Good marriage? Everything okay on that end?”

“As far as I know. But we weren’t best friends or anything. I’d met his wife a few times. Seemed like a nice sort. She was gone a lot, according to Adam. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just groping around for a few leads on something.”

“Something to do with Adam’s death? After all these years?”

“It might tie into something I’ve got going on. I suppose you don’t know where their kids are? I think her son is a lawyer.”

“He is. With the Bureau actually. I guess he wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps. At least partly.”

“You got contact info for him?”

“I can look it up right now. I’ll give it to you on the condition that one day you tell me what the hell this is all about, Puller.”

“I promise I will. And thanks.”

Puller wrote down the information and clicked off. He called Dan Reynolds, who was in the FBI’s D.C. office. When Puller explained who he was and what he wanted to talk about, he expected the young man to either ask a lot of questions or hang up on him. But instead Reynolds said, “In about twenty minutes I can meet you at the Dunkin’ Donuts around the corner from WFO.”

Surprised by this, Puller quickly agreed and headed to his car. On the way to the parking garage he texted Knox about this development.

The Dunkin’ Donuts was fairly busy when Puller got there. But he had no problem spotting Dan Reynolds, for the young man had taken after his mother in height and looks. Puller introduced himself and they bought their coffees and headed outside to sit at a small table on the sidewalk.

Dan Reynolds, in addition to inheriting his mother’s good looks and height, had her penetrating gaze. He took a sip of coffee and stared at a car passing by.

“So why is an Army CID agent looking into my father’s death all these years later? He wasn’t in the military.”

“It might be connected to another case of a military nature,” Puller answered.

“Mind telling me which one?”

Puller mulled this over. “A former colleague of your mother was murdered at Union Station.”

“Niles Robinson,” said Dan.

“That’s right.”

“And that’s the case? But Robinson wasn’t in the military either.”

“No, but he was a witness in a case involving a military member.”

Dan turned his gaze directly to Puller. “And how could that be connected to my father’s death?”

“I have no idea. That’s why I’m poking around trying to find a lead.” He paused and then added in a casual tone, “I suppose I could talk to your mother.”