The Escape (John Puller, #3)(152)

Robert looked at Puller, who was staring in amazement at his father.

“Something different today?” whispered Robert.

“Definitely,” replied Puller.

“General,” said Puller. “We’re here reporting in, sir.” He pushed Robert ahead of him. “I brought along a new man today. He’ll be reporting in to you regularly now.”

Puller Sr. turned to face them, though he didn’t get out of his chair. His gaze moved up and down both men’s uniforms before coming to rest on Robert’s face.

“Name?” said Puller Sr.

Robert glanced at his brother and received an encouraging nod before saying, “Major Robert W. Puller, USAF.”

Puller Sr. stared hard at him for a few moments before looking at his other son.

In that gaze, for the first time in a long time, Puller saw recognition. Not just seeing something. Recognition. He stepped forward and said softly, “Dad?”

Robert glanced sharply at Puller. His brother had filled him in on the subterfuge he normally employed with his father. Playing the role of XO to his father’s three stars and head of a corps.

Puller took another hesitant step toward his father.

“Dad?”

Puller Sr. slowly rose from his chair. His legs trembled a bit and his knees creaked, but he finally righted himself and stood tall and firm. His gaze left his younger son and went back to his older boy.

He took a few halting steps toward Robert.

The old man’s eyebrows were bunched together, the eyes sharp and penetrating. But at the edges Puller saw something he never had before, not even when his mother had disappeared: tears.

“B-Bob?”

When he heard the name, Puller reached out and touched the wall to keep himself upright.

Robert said in a quavering voice, “It’s… me… Dad.”

The old man crossed the room with surprising swiftness to stand in front of his son. He looked him up and down again, taking in all aspects of the uniform, his gaze coming to rest on the rows of decorations there. He reached out and touched one of them. Then his hand drifted up to his son’s face. The hair had not yet grown back, but Robert had divested himself of all the other elements of his changed appearance.

“It’s me, Dad,” he said firmly. “Back in uniform.”

Puller continued to hold on to the wall as he watched this.

Puller Sr.’s hand dipped down to his son’s uninjured one and gripped it.

“Good, son. Good.”

Then his father let go, turned and drifted back over to his chair, and slowly sat down. He turned his face to the wall.

Robert glanced at his brother, his features confused. Puller inclined his head, indicating that Robert should follow his father.

Robert walked over, pulled up another chair, and sat next to his dad. His father continued to stare at the wall, but Puller could hear his brother speaking to him in low tones. He continued to watch for a few moments and then stepped outside the room, leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, exhaled a long breath, and tried to fight back the tears.

As he slumped down to the floor, he lost that fight.





CHAPTER





76



PULLER STEPPED BETWEEN the graves at Fort Leavenworth until he found the one he wanted. He was once more wearing his dress blues, his cover on his head. The sun was warming and the skies were clear. Big Muddy was flowing hard from all the recent rains. Fort Leavenworth was back to normal. The DB was back to normal, although still missing one prisoner who would never be returning.

It was a pity, thought Puller, that Reynolds had not been sent to the DB to serve her prison term. She was the wrong gender and she was not in the military. She was now currently in a max civilian prison in Texas. She would never be leaving. And he knew it was still too good for her.

He had gone to see AWOL at the kennel and would be taking his cat home with him. The feline seemed happy to see him, although that might just have been the treat he had brought her.

He eyed the sky and then his gaze fell to the tombstone. He knelt down in front of it. That’s when the person appeared next to him. He got a good glimpse of her long legs from his squatting position.

He looked up to see Knox standing there. Her skirt was black and short, her legs bare, and her blouse was white and revealing. She held her high heels in her hand. Her bandages were gone and her hair had mostly grown back after the surgery, though it was a lot spikier now.

Puller actually liked the look. It seemed to fit her better. Bohemian. Yes, the woman definitely marched to the beat of her own drummer.

He stood. She gazed up at him and dangled the shoes in front of him.

“Stilettos are obviously not designed for muddy graveyards.”

“I can see that,” he said, smiling.

“Okay, you summoned me here. You said meet at Thomas Custer’s tombstone on this day at this time. And so here I am.”

“I appreciate your coming. I didn’t know if you would.”

“How could I refuse?”

“Can we walk?”

They turned and strolled side by side down the row toward the parking lot.

“I took my brother to see our dad a while back.”

“And how did that go?”

“He recognized Bobby.”

“Is that unusual?”