The Escape (John Puller, #3)(75)

“You *! I bet you don’t even have the atropine.”

He plunged the tip of another syringe into her neck and depressed the plunger. In a few seconds she toppled over in her chair and lay there unconscious from the sedative he’d administered. The “poison” had been a simple saline solution.

He had already searched her house and found her gun cache in the safe. She had made a mistake there, using the same code as her house alarm. One pistol was missing from its box, which was how he had deduced that she was armed. He had taken pictures with his phone of any documents that looked promising. And he had hacked her computer and downloaded files to his portable drive.

He let himself out, took off his mask, walked to his truck parked across the street, and drove off. There had been pluses and minuses to his visit with Reynolds. The plus was she had admitted setting him up. And she had provided him some clues to the truth. The negative was obvious. She would tell others that he had been to her home and threatened her. This would alert them that he was in the area. And this would also increase everyone’s conviction that he was indeed guilty. Not that they needed any such convincing.

But in the end, it had been worth it, because for the first time ever he felt like he was finally going to figure this all out.





CHAPTER





39



DOUG FLETCHER WAS just leaving the JAG building on the grounds of UVA’s prestigious law school when Puller and Knox climbed out of the sedan. He was in his fifties, lean, with hair probably as closely cropped as during his military career, only now it was mostly gray. His jaw was sharply cut and his blue eyes were alert and penetrating, which helped to gain the trust of a judge or jury.

Puller and Knox flashed their cred packs. Fletcher didn’t look surprised by their appearance.

“How can I help you?” he asked, his voice firm and low but carrying a throaty rumble that made it perfectly clear.

Puller explained why they were here and Fletcher nodded.

“I heard about the escape, of course.” He glanced around. “There’s an office space I use back at the JAG School. Perhaps that might be more private.”

They walked there in five minutes. Fletcher closed the door to the small space that had a desk in the center with a computer on it. The walls were lined with wooden shelves filled with dusty tomes and stacks of legal periodicals. Fletcher took his seat behind the desk while Puller and Knox sat opposite.

“We understand that you might have had some doubts about Robert Puller’s guilt,” began Puller.

“I wasn’t the only one,” replied Fletcher.

“The witness statements?”

“Among other things. I guess that could have happened naturally. But I also learned later that Puller had a potential defense with his computer being hacked.”

“Something he wouldn’t acknowledge.”

“He was too smart for his own good. Too smart in fact to allow himself to be seen loading a DVD and then get caught with it in his pocket.”

“And the Iranian spy sighting?” asked Knox.

Fletcher shrugged. “It was very damning testimony. And the witness was credible and had no known grudge against Puller. So what was the motivation to lie?”

“How about a very sick child who needed a treatment that was deemed experimental and thus insurance-proof and also way out of dad’s financial range?” said Puller.

Fletcher leaned forward. “What?”

Knox explained, “Robinson’s son had a very rare form of leukemia. Traditional treatment couldn’t touch it. The experimental option cost over seven figures and was only performed in another country. Before Robert Puller was convicted his son was going to die. After Robert Puller went to DB, Robinson suddenly got the treatment done. And it wasn’t for free.”

“How do you know all this?” asked Fletcher.

Knox again answered. “Because my partner here noticed two pictures of Robinson’s kid in his office. One was of a dying child. The other was an older version obviously doing fine.”

Puller added, “So we ran it down and found what we found.”

“And there was no other explanation?” asked Fletcher. “Donations, the experimental treatment being done gratis?”

“It was paid for. Over a million bucks two months after Robert Puller went to DB.”

“Damn! So if Robinson was paid off?”

“We think Susan Reynolds was too. We interviewed her. And I’ve done enough face-to-faces to realize when someone is lying. She was.”

“And the motivation? Money again?”

Puller said, “For herself. Her husband was killed nearly twenty years ago, leaving her with two small kids to raise. She now lives in a million-dollar home on a government salary.”

“And no one discovered this before now?”

“It was all after the fact. Robinson’s kid was dying. Susan Reynolds was poor. After the trial who’d go back and dig through that. You didn’t, right?”

“No, I didn’t,” Fletcher said a bit guiltily. “I had a full plate of work. No time to step back after a verdict was in. And it wasn’t my job to do so,” he added defensively.

“But now we have to know the truth. Puller is out there somewhere.”

“But didn’t he kill a man to get out?” said Fletcher. “That’s what I heard through the grapevine.”