The Escape (John Puller, #3)(31)

Puller had gotten here about eleven-fifteen. Based on Daughtrey’s presumed time of death at around eight, that meant there was a nearly three-hour window, give or take, in which Daughtrey had been killed and then left here. Because he had been left, not shot here.

“I can see the wheels grinding.”

He looked up to see Knox standing next to him.

“Exciting evening,” she said, surveying the activity in the room.

“A bit more than I wanted, yeah,” said Puller.

“So what’s your take?”

“He wasn’t killed here. He was shot elsewhere and his body dumped here.”

“Lack of blood, bodily fluids, and other forensics residue?” said Knox, and Puller nodded.

“And there was a large exit wound on the back of his head. But the pillow wasn’t damaged from the fired round, and there was very little blood on the pillowcase. So the heart had stopped pumping a long time before he was dumped here. And the room was clean otherwise.”

“OSI figure that too?” asked Knox.

“Yes, at least from the little they’ve told me. For obvious reasons, they can’t share a lot.”

“My statement should have cleared you.”

“It did. For now. Thanks for giving it.”

“Just telling the truth. But why your room as the dumping ground?”

“Putting up a barrier to my investigation? Sending me a message I don’t understand as yet? Just messing with me? Take your pick.”

“We talked to a lot of people yesterday. They all know you’re on the case. Maybe you made somebody nervous.”

He shrugged. “Maybe I did. The question is, who and why?”

Knox looked over as they lifted Daughtrey from the bed, put him in a body bag, and carried him out on a gurney. The OSI team was congregated in a corner going over their notes, Puller could see. There was little evidence to be collected here, other than the body. The local cops, with really nothing else to do, trailed the gurney out of the room.

One of the OSI team came over to Puller and Knox.

“Chief Puller, I’d like to know more about your relationship with General Daughtrey.”

“I didn’t have a relationship. I had an assignment.”

“Was he the only one who assigned it to you?”

“As I said before, there were others, but I’m not at liberty to disclose their names.”

“Well, I’m going to have to insist that you do. This is a murder investigation, Puller. We’ve checked you out. You’re CID. You know how this works. Murder trumps all.”

“Not necessarily,” said Knox, and the OSI man turned his attention to her.

She flashed her creds.

“You gave Puller his alibi.”

“No, I told the truth. And there were lots of people in the restaurant where we ate. You can get their statements.”

“Already working on it. I don’t see INSCOM personnel every day.”

“I would hope not.”

“Is there something bigger going on here that I don’t know about? And could it have to do with a high-profile prisoner going missing from DB who was also in the Air Force?” He glared at Puller. “And who happens to have the same last name as you?” He shook his head, apparently at the perceived absurdity of the situation.

Puller said, “I don’t want to impede your investigation, because it would piss me off if someone were obstructing mine. Let me make some calls and then I’ll tell you all I can tell you. But I take orders too. From a higher authority than either of us.”

The OSI agent stared at him fixedly and then nodded. “I look forward to your call.” He put a hand on Puller’s shoulder. “And you don’t plan to leave the area?”

“Not right now,” said Puller. “But that could change.”

“Don’t let it change without contacting me,” the man said firmly.

After he walked off Knox said, “You should make that call, because the OSI guy doesn’t look to be of a patient nature.”

Puller pulled out his phone and walked outside.





Thirty minutes later Puller was sitting across from Schindler and Rinehart at a facility just off base from Leavenworth. Schindler looked harried. Rinehart looked calm but subdued.

Puller had given them a succinct report of his investigation so far, but leaving out, for his own reasons, the part about the blown transformers being taken by “people.”

“Okay, you’re filled in. Now you need to tell me what you want me to do,” said Puller. “OSI wants names. Your names.”

Rinehart shook his head. “That won’t be happening, Puller. I’ll run the interference on that. They’ll back off.”

“Right,” said Puller, not sounding convinced of this. “You’ve got the facts. Your guy was shot somewhere else and left in my room. If it was done to try to incriminate me, it was done pretty amateurishly, because I have a rock-solid alibi.”

“For God’s sake, can we first focus on who would want Daughtrey dead?” interjected Schindler.

Puller noted the man’s tie was askew, his hair ruffled, and he kept picking at his fingernails. He’d expected stronger stuff from the NSC.

“Okay,” he said. “When was the last time you saw him?”