CHAPTER 65
Puller was driving fast.
Carson eyed him from the passenger seat.
“So where are we going now?”
“I need to see my lawyer,” Puller answered cryptically.
When they reached the street on which Griffin Mason had his law office, Puller parked the Tahoe at the curb about a hundred yards down from it. He reached into his duffel and pulled out his pair of night-vision optics and put them to his eyes. He trained them on Mason’s office.
Carson followed his gaze.
“Your lawyer?”
“Actually, my aunt’s lawyer. He’s handling her estate.”
“And how is Mason doing handling her estate?”
“Not so good.”
Puller eyed the other buildings on the street. They were all dark.
There was no car in Mason’s driveway. No lights on in the office.
“How do you feel about a little breaking and entering?” he asked.
“It’s a felony. That’s how I feel about it.” “Then you can wait here. I’ll be back shortly.” She grabbed his arm. “Puller, think about this. You don’t want to piss away your military career, do you?”
“What I want is to do right by my aunt. And that includes taking a hard whack at a creep who’s screwing her. And others.”
Carson sighed. “I’ll come. I can keep lookout.” “It wasn’t fair to ask you. You have a lot bigger career to lose than I do.”
“So don’t get caught. And if you do I’ll disavow all knowledge.”
“And I’ll back that statement up one hundred percent.”
“You’re damn right you will, soldier.”
A few moments later they were walking down the street. When they got to Mason’s place, Puller hooked a left and entered the man’s backyard. At the fence he told Carson to wait and keep watch.
“This shouldn’t take too long,” he said.
“Make sure it doesn’t.”
Mason had a security system, but one glance through the back-door window told Puller that it was not armed. The green light on the panel was lit.
Puller was surprised by this. Why have a security system if you didn’t use it?
The door lock was a deadbolt that took Puller only a few seconds to defeat using a pick gun from his duffel.
He opened the door and penlighted his way to the lawyer’s interior office.
It took him about thirty minutes to find what he was looking for.
Mason was meticulous in his recordkeeping.
A little too meticulous.
Puller looked at the pages he had brought with him, the inventory list Mason had given him about his aunt’s personal items. He checked it against the inventory list Mason had in the files.
It matched down to the last item.
He next searched for and found the inventory list for Cookie’s estate. He ran his gaze down it.
Puller saw what he knew he would see.
He put Cookie’s inventory list in his pocket along with his aunt’s. He shut the file drawer and looked around.
He thought about what the other estates attorney, Sheila Dowdy, had said.
Mason’s other car was an Aston Martin. He took expensive vacations. He had a big house.
It was all adding up, the pieces falling into place faster and easier than was normally the case.
The next moment his phone vibrated.
He looked at the text.
Bogie on our six, the text from Carson said.
Someone had just pulled into the driveway of Mason’s office.
Now Puller could understand why the security system had not been engaged.
This also told him that it probably wasn’t Mason coming back to work. He would have armed and then disarmed the system. This was someone whom Mason did not want to give his passcode to.
And maybe the person wasn’t supposed to be here at all.
He thumbed a text back to Carson.
Description?
Blue subcompact. Young slender woman with blonde hair.
As Puller read the text he knew they didn’t have to look for Jane Ryon any longer.
She had come to them.