Zero Day (John Puller, #1)(38)

“I can understand that.”

“But the fact is we need your help.”

“I’m glad to give it.”

“You keep working with Sam.”

“I will.”

“Keep me in the loop. Media inquiries.” He said these words with considerable distaste.

“Army can help you with that. I can give you some contact info.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Puller took a business card from his pocket and wrote a name and number on the back and slid it across. The lawman picked it up without looking at it and eased it into his shirt pocket.

“I best be heading on,” said Lindemann. “Enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Lindemann slid his hat back on and trudged out of the Crib.

As Puller’s gaze followed him out, a guy sitting two tables away caught his attention for one reason only.

He had on a U.S. Postal Service cap.

CHAPTER

26


PULLER WATCHED HIM. The man ate his food slowly, deliberately. Coffee the same. One sip, then the mug went down. Ten seconds, another sip, then down again. Puller’s food came. He ate it faster than he had originally intended. The carbs and protein pumped up his energy level. He left cash on the table, not even waiting for the bill. He knew the amount from the night before.

He rose, cradling his last cup of coffee, walked past tables, ignored the stares, and stopped at the postman’s booth.

The man looked up.

“You Howard Reed?” asked Puller.

The skinny, sallow-cheeked fellow nodded.

“Mind if I join you for a few minutes?”

Reed didn’t say anything.

Puller flipped out his cred pack, badge followed by ID, and sat down without waiting for an answer.

“I’m with Army CID investigating the murders you stumbled onto on Monday,” he began.

Reed shivered and pulled his cap down lower.

Puller ran his gaze over him. Too lean in an unhealthy way. Spoke of some serious internal problems. Sunburnt skin. Probably looked ten years older than he was. Stooped shoulders. Body language spelled defeat. In life. In everything.

“Can I ask you some questions, Mr. Reed?”

The man took another careful sip of coffee and set it down, the mug just so. Puller wondered if he had OCD.

“Okay,” said Reed. It was the first word he’d said. His voice was hoarse, weak, like he didn’t use it much.

“Can you take me through your steps that day, starting with you pulling down the street? What you saw? What you heard? Maybe something you usually see or hear but didn’t that day? You follow me?”

Reed slid his paper napkin from next to his empty plate and wiped off his mouth. He went step by step. Puller was impressed with the man’s memory and method. Maybe you got that delivering a zillion pieces of mail, covering the same ground, seeing the same things over and over. You’d get a sense if something looked different.

“You ever see the Reynoldses before?” Puller asked.

“Who?”

“The murdered family was named Reynolds.”

“Oh.” Reed considered this, took his time, and treated himself to another deliberate sip of coffee.

Puller noted the wedding band on the man’s gnarled finger. Married but eating his breakfast out at half past five? Maybe that’s where the hopeless look came from.

“Saw the girl one time. She was out in the front yard when I was delivering. Never saw the man. Maybe saw the woman once passing by in her car when I was coming through.”

“Did you know the Halversons?”

“The folks who lived there?”

“Yeah.”

Reed waggled his head from side to side. “Never did see them. Wouldn’t have gone up to the house, but I needed a signature for the package I was delivering. Certified mail, return receipt requested. Were they killed too?”

“No. They weren’t there at the time.” Puller remained silent for a few moments. “What happened to the package?” he asked.

“The package?” Reed’s cup was halfway to his lips.

“Yeah, the one that required the signature.”

Reed put his cup down and placed a finger against his cracked and dry lips. “I went in the house with it.” He shuddered and gripped the laminated tabletop. “Then I saw…”

“Right, I know what you saw. But focus for me please. Package in hand. Then you turned and ran back out. Hit the door, broke the glass against the banister.” Puller had learned all this from Cole.

Reed looked alarmed. “Am I gonna have to pay for that door? I didn’t mean to break it, but I ain’t never seen anything like that in my life. And hope to God I never do again.”

“Don’t worry about the door. Focus on the package. Was it addressed to the Halversons?”

Reed nodded. “Yep, I remember seeing the name on there.”

Puller didn’t respond. He just let the man think about it, picture the package in his mind. The mind was a funny thing. Give it time and something fresh usually popped.

Reed’s eyes widened slightly. “Now I think about it, it was a C/O.”

“Care of?”

“Right, right,” Reed replied excitedly. He slid his hands along the tabletop, bumping against his empty plate. He didn’t look hopeless anymore. He looked engaged. Maybe for the first time in years, thought Puller.