“How long do you paddle?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
“That’s how long I’ll run, then,” he replied. “I’m going to work out afterwards in the gym.”
“Okay.”
“You too?”
He said, “Me too. I haven’t done much lately. Need to get back into it.”
“You look like you’re in great shape.”
He held the elevator door open for her as she eased the long paddleboard inside the car.
“Looks can be deceiving.”
Puller found a swath of hard-packed sand and began his run. He had watched as Landry shed her T-shirt and walked into the water with her board past the breakers. She lay flat on the board and paddled out farther to where the ocean was calm and flat. She hoisted herself up on the board and began paddling, alternating sides.
She paddled parallel to the beach in the same direction Puller was running, so he could keep an eye on her. It was early enough that there weren’t many folks out yet. A few older fishermen with their poles mounted in PVC pipe wedged in the sand were talking and sipping coffee from thermoses. An older woman walked along, head down but swinging her arms in elliptical motions as she did so. To Puller it looked like she was performing some sort of physical therapy. Maybe she’d blown out both rotators.
A couple jogged along with a sleek Irish setter keeping pace. Seagulls soared and dove, looking for breakfast in the green waters.
He checked his watch, turned, and headed back the way he had come. He looked out and saw Landry make her turn and do the same thing.
Nearly twenty-five minutes into his run Puller felt nicely warmed up. His lungs were operating fully, his legs felt juiced, his arms kept pumping. He had run literally thousands of miles training to become an Army Ranger. Special Forces was mostly about weapons training and endurance. Yeah, they all pumped weights. Yeah, they were all strong as bears. But it was the stamina that really was the difference between living and dying.
At the end of forty-five minutes he stood in the sand at the spot where he had begun, moving his arms and legs, keeping his heart rate up, but allowing his body to cool down slowly.
Landry paddled back in, hit the breakers, stood, and worked her way through them before arriving back on the sand. She snagged her T- shirt and towel from the beach and carried her board over to Puller.
“I need to do a quick change,” she said. “How was the run?”
“It was a run,” replied Puller. “They’re all the same.”
“You don’t look out of breath for having just run all that way.”
“It wasn’t that far. How was the paddling?” “Enlightening.”
“Really?” he said, looking at her skeptically.
“It gives you time to think. Just you and the paddle and the water.” She paused and looked up at him as they walked back to the condo building. “Did you do any thinking while you were running?”
“Now that you mention it, I suppose I did.” “And?”
“And I need to do some more of it.”
She toweled off before going into the building and then they rode the elevator up to her condo.
She took five minutes to rinse the saltwater off and change, and came back out in black tights that ended above her knees, a tight T-shirt with a sports bra underneath, and sneakers with ankle socks. Her wet hair was tied back with a green scrunchy.
The condo gym was large and efficiently laid out. There were Universal machines, free weights, squat racks, dumbbells, a cardio section with treadmills, elliptical machines, stair climbers, and an open floor space where exercise classes were apparently conducted.
Landry hit the Universal circuit while Puller stretched and then did pull-ups and push-ups, calisthenics, and a lot of leg exercises, pushing his lower body hard.
Finished, they toweled off, grabbed some waters from a small fridge next to the exit door, and headed back to the elevator.
She said, “You do a lot of leg work. Most guys focus on the biceps.”
“I’ve never been able to run on my hands.”
She laughed.
“You do this every morning?” asked Puller. “Every morning that I can, yeah.”
“Then you’ll live forever.”
She smiled and then became serious. “Unless I go down in the line of duty.”
“There’s always that.”
“I guess for you too.” She eyed his calf and his forearm where his combat scars were prominent. She pointed to them. “Iraq? Afghanistan?”
He took a swallow of water and said, “Both.” “My brother’s still over there.”
“Hope he comes home soon and safe.”
“Me too.”
“Will he come here?”
“Doubtful. He plans to stay in for the full ride.”
“The Army’s a good employer. He’ll do just fine.”
“But you’re a little biased, aren’t you?” “Actually, I’m a lot biased.”
“So what’s on your agenda for today?”
“I’m going back to my aunt’s house, check some things out.”
She put a hand on his arm. “Puller, you heard what Chief Bullock said.”
“That’s all worked out. Remember I told you I saw him last night. It was at the house. My aunt left it to me. Legal docs prove it and the lawyer gave me the key.”
She removed her hand. “Oh. Hey, that’s great.” She paused and added, “So do you really think her death was more than an accident?” “When I know for sure, you’ll be one of the first people I tell.”
They got back to the condo, showered, and changed.
Puller made some fresh coffee, and when Landry came out in her uniform he poured her a cup. They drank it out on the patio, watching the sun continue its rise. The beach below was starting to get more crowded as families jockeyed for the best pieces of sand.
“You see yourself staying here long-term?” he asked.
“I haven’t really thought about it. What about you? I guess you’re in for the full ride too with Uncle Sam.”
“I guess I am.”
“And after that? You’ll still be a young guy.” “Who knows?”
“You could become a cop.”
“Maybe.”
She smiled again. “You always so loquacious?”
“Compared to other times, I’m being downright gregarious.”
His phone buzzed. He looked at the readout.
It was Kristen Craig from USACIL. Hopefully she had an answer on the men following him. Landry looked at the phone.
“Back to work?” she asked, looking a little disappointed.
“Back to work,” he answered.
CHAPTER 36
Landry and Puller parted company as Puller answered the phone.
“Hey, Christine.”
But it wasn’t Christine. It was a man’s voice. “Agent John Puller?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Colonel Peter Walmsey, that’s who, soldier.” “Yes, sir,” said Puller, automatically snapping to attention even though he was only on the phone. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“I want to know why you’re calling USACIL to perform work on things unrelated to your duties at CID. That’s what I want to damn well know. Do you view the Army’s premier forensics lab as your personal playpen?”
Puller licked his lips and pondered how to respond to this. “Would you be referring to my phone call to Ms. Craig?”
“I would be referring to that, specifically your request that she run down a license plate number for you. And also why a duffel full of investigative equipment owned by this man’s army is on its way to you at Eglin Air Force Base to be used on a matter not involving CID.”
Shit.
“I apologize for the misunderstanding, sir.” “So you’re saying it was a misunderstanding? Why don’t you explain that one in a way that doesn’t make me want to prefer official charges against you, Puller?”
“I observed two men who looked
like soldiers following me in Florida, Colonel Walmsey. I requested that Ms. Craig attempt to use reasonable means at her disposal to determine if the men were members of the service. The most expeditious way of doing that seemed to be tracking their vehicle. I acquired the license plate information and communicated that to Ms. Craig.” “Why would Army personnel be following you, Puller?”
“If I had the answer to that, sir, I would not have involved Ms. Craig.”
“And the duffel?”
“Connected to the same matter, sir. I came down here on a family matter. I didn’t bring any equipment with me. If it became necessary for me to initiate an investigation I wanted to be properly outfitted to do so.”
“When exactly were you going to inform your superior officer of all this?”
“Once I determined that I had something to report, sir, that involved other military members. But I want to make it clear that I accept full responsibility for this. Ms. Craig was under the impression that I was engaged in authorized work. None of this should reflect on her record, sir.” “You cover for your friends well, Puller, I’ll give you that. But for your information Ms. Craig has been relieved of duty pending completion of an inquiry on this matter.”
Shit again, thought Puller.
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”
“Not as sorry as she was. Now let’s talk about you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I understand from CID that you’re on authorized leave right now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that you successfully carried out a commission in West Virginia that saved this country an enormous headache.”
Puller said nothing.
“So I’m basically being told that you need to get a pass on this. I don’t like that one bit, Puller. Every soldier should be held to the same standard, don’t you agree?”
“Yes I do, sir.”
“And what is that standard?”
Puller thought he was back in boot camp. “The highest possible standard, sir,” he replied automatically.
“But that apparently is not how it’s going down in this case. Sounds like bullshit to me, Puller.”
“Yes, sir, it does.”
“But you can man up and do something about it. Get your ass up here and take the heat.”
Puller admired the skill with which the colonel had maneuvered him into a comer.
“Sir, I would be glad to do that as soon as I have completed my task down here.”
“What the hell task is that?” said Walmsey, who had apparently not reckoned on this response.
“My aunt.”
“Your aunt? What the hell is going on with your aunt?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out, sir.”
“Can’t you ask her?”
“I would, sir, but somebody killed her.” “Someone killed your aunt?” Walmsey said skeptically. “Is that why you want your duffel? Is your aunt in the Army?”
“No, sir.”
“Then I’m apparently not getting through to you, Puller. What you’re planning to do is an unauthorized—”
It was at this moment that Puller ran out of patience. It was contrary to his nature in speaking with a superior officer, but perhaps his brief time away from the Army had dulled those professional instincts. He would just assume that was the case.
“Sir, if I may elaborate. My aunt sent my father a letter at the VA hospital where he’s currently staying. The letter stated she was afraid, that things were happening down here that she thought were suspicious. My father asked me to investigate. I came here to do so. I found my aunt dead. Naturally my suspicions were aroused.” When Walmsey next spoke his tone was far less confrontational. “Your father? At the VA hospital?”
“Yes, sir. He’s not that well, but he’s hanging in there. Even though sometimes he thinks he’s still commanding the ioist.”
There was a long stretch of silence and then Walmsey said, “Fighting John Puller is your father?”
“Yes, sir. I’m John Puller Jr.”
“That was not included in my briefing on this. I can’t imagine why the hell not.”
Puller could see a certain aide to Colonel Walmsey getting his or her ass reamed over that one.
“But my father being who he is should not impact this matter at all.”
“No, it shouldn’t,” said Walmsey in a halting voice.
“It’s just that my aunt was my father’s only sibling. He took it hard. He was her younger brother. You have siblings, sir?”
“Two older sisters. Special relationship, big sisters and little brothers.”
“Yes, sir, so I’ve heard.”
There was another long pause.
“Why don’t you carry on down there and we’ll revisit this issue later, Agent Puller.”
“Yes, sir, thank you, sir. And Ms. Craig?” “Don’t worry about her. I’ll take you at your word that she wasn’t involved in anything that was unauthorized. She’ll be back on duty today.” “Appreciate it, sir.”
“You tell your father I said hello and convey my best wishes for a speedy recovery.”
“I will do that, Colonel. Thank you. Uh, any chance on running that license plate down, sir?”
But the line went dead.
It didn’t look like the Army was going to be much help with this.
Puller headed to the Tahoe.
He needed to get his investigation duffel.
CHAPTER 37
The sweat trickled down his neck.
At eight in the morning he’d already been hard at work for an hour. It was eighty-two degrees with a projected high of nearly a hundred today.
He was at the same house. He had been told that the grounds here were so extensive that they required a landscaping crew every day. He had taken steps to make sure that he would get the assignment. It had involved payments and promises to people who didn’t give a damn why he wanted to be here. For them it was just an exchange of something for something else. And when you were dealing with folks who had little money, bartering became a way of life. For all they knew he was trying to case the mansion in hopes of robbing it. They did not care about folks stealing from the rich. The rich had everything. They would just print more money.
He was simply one man working for others. He was paid a wage that could barely keep him alive. And he was one injury away from being homeless.
As he looked around at the workers next to him, he was actually describing their state of affairs, not his. Money meant nothing to him. He was here for his own purposes and no other. When he was done he would leave.
Unless he was dead. Then he would stay in Paradise for eternity.
He rubbed the sweat from his eyes and commenced clipping a hedge for owners who demanded a precisely trimmed bush. But he also focused on what he had seen the previous night on the beach.
The Forgotten Page 17
