CHAPTER
96
PULLER SAID, “You’re a hero, Bobby. You saved a town, probably an entire state.”
He was seated across from his brother at USDB.
Robert Puller appeared to be trying hard to hide his pleasure at this statement. It was the first time at USDB that Puller had ever seen his brother wear an expression approaching pride.
“Did they deliver the commendation to you?”
Robert nodded. “A first for USDB. Not sure they knew what to do.”
“I bet.”
“I’m sorry about your friend, Sam Cole.”
“And I’m sorry they didn’t see fit to commute your sentence.”
“Did you really expect them to? The military does not second-guess itself. That would be tantamount to admitting a mistake, and the military doesn’t do that either.”
Puller reached across and shook his brother’s hand, ignoring the glare from the MP on duty. “You saved my ass.”
“That’s what big brothers are for.”
For most of the flight home Puller stared out the window. When the plane soared over West Virginia the pilot came on the PA. He told them where they were and added that he was from Bluefield, which he declared was the prettiest place in the country. Puller began to read the in-flight magazine and tuned out the man’s words.
He picked up his repaired Malibu at the airport and drove to his apartment. AWOL greeted him, and he spent a few minutes giving the cat some attention. He looked out at the tiny courtyard visible from his kitchen window. This made him think, for some reason, about Sam Cole’s picture-perfect backyard with its fountain where they had sat together and talked. He touched his cheek where she had kissed him. He wondered if he had been wrong to turn down Sam Cole’s not-so-subtle invitation into her bed. But then he finally concluded that it had been the right thing to do at the time, for both of them. Although he had always thought there would be other times with the woman.
But what were the odds, really? That he would have lived. And she would have died. That chunk of concrete could have just as easily hit him. Or a tree. Or a deer. But it had chosen to hit Sam Cole and end her life.
A person could explain it away by saying it just wasn’t his time yet. Puller had done it himself after dodging death on the battlefield. Other guys had died. He hadn’t. But for him that wasn’t explanation enough. Not this time. He wasn’t sure why it was different in this instance, but he just knew that it was.
He put AWOL aside and reported to CID at Quantico. He wrote up his reports and talked to the people he needed to talk to. He was told that a promotion was forthcoming that would enable him to jump two spaces in the military hierarchy instead of merely one, an unheard-of opportunity.
He turned it down on the spot.
His SAC spent a long time trying to talk him out of it.
“Other guys would kill for this.”
“Then let the other guys have it.”
“I don’t get you, Puller, I really don’t.”
“I know, sir. Sometimes I don’t get myself.”
He had cleaned up his desk, returned a few emails, met with some superiors so they could be “in the loop,” and then he decided he was done with the Army for a while. He had leave saved up. He wanted to take it. There wasn’t an officer in the ranks who would have denied the request. People who had helped avoid nuclear holocaust on home soil could pretty much do what they wanted.
Within reason.
This was the U.S. military after all.
He went home, packed up some things and his cat, loaded the Malibu, and set out. He had no map, no plan, no destination. It was just a CID special agent on the loose with his trusty comrade, AWOL. The cat rode in the backseat like he was being chauffeured. Puller was glad to play the role.
They left at midnight because Puller preferred roaming in the dark. He found a road heading west and took it. By dawn he had covered over three hundred miles without stopping to even take a leak. When he did stop to stretch and relieve himself, gas up, buy the biggest coffee they had, and let AWOL out, he found he was well into West Virginia. Not Drake, another part. He wasn’t going back to Drake. There was nothing there for him, if there ever had been.
He didn’t want to see the Bunker again, what was left of it.
He didn’t want to see the Trents and the Coles, what were left of them.
He would carry Sam Cole in his memories for as long as he had them. Of that he was sure. Being around her had made him a better cop. And a better person. He would miss her for the rest of his life. Of that he was also sure.
He would come back to the Army and return to his duties catching people who did bad things. For some reason, he felt that he would come back stronger than ever. It was a nice feeling. He believed he owed that one to Sam Cole too.
He opened the door and AWOL jumped back into the car. Puller settled himself in his seat, shifted the Malibu to drive, and said, “Ready to roll, AWOL?”
The cat meowed its approval.
Puller eased back onto the road and then gunned it.
He swept down the road, moving fast, flowing smoothly.
And then he was gone, like he had never even been there.
After all, it was true.
You couldn’t kill what you couldn’t see coming.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
TO MICHELLE, the ride continues.
To Mitch Hoffman, for helping me to continue to see the light.
To David Young, Jamie Raab, Emi Battaglia, Jennifer Romanello, Tom Maciag, Martha Otis, Chris Barba, Karen Torres, Anthony Goff, Lindsey Rose, Bob Castillo, Michele McGonigle, and all at Grand Central Publishing, who support me in every way.
To Aaron and Arleen Priest, Lucy Childs Baker, Lisa Erbach Vance, Nicole James, Frances Jalet-Miller, and John Richmond, for being with me step for step.
To Maja Thomas, the empress of ebooks.
To Anthony Forbes Watson, Jeremy Trevathan, Maria Rejt, Trisha Jackson, Katie James, Aimee Roche, Becky Ikin, Lee Dibble, Sophie Portas, Stuart Dwyer, Anna Bond, and Michelle Kirk at Pan Macmillan, for helping me hit my highest numbers ever in the UK.
To Ron McLarty and Orlagh Cassidy, for giving superb voice to my stories.
To Steven Maat at Bruna, for taking me to the # 1 spot in Holland.
To Bob Schule, for your eagle eye.
To Anshu Guleria, M.D., for sound medical advice.
To the charity auction winners, Matthew Reynolds, Bill Strauss, and Jean Trent, I hope you enjoyed your characters.
To the Fort Benning crew who were so generous with their time and expertise: Maj. Gen. Bob and Patti Brown, Command Sgt. Maj. Chris Hardy, Command Sgt. Maj. Steven McClaflin, Lt. Col. Selby Rollinson (Ret.), Susan Berry, Col. Sean McCaffrey, Col. Terry McKenrick, Col. Greg Camp (Ret.), Lt. Col. Jay Bartholomees, Lt. Col. Kyle Feger, Lt. Col. Mike Junot, Lt. Col. David Koonce, Lt. Col. Todd Zollinger, Maj. Joe Ruzicka, Capt. Matthew Dusablon, Chief Warrant Officer 4 Larry Turso, Chief Warrant Officer 3 Jose Aponte, Chief Warrant Officer 2 Shawn Burke, Special Agent Joseph Leary, Special Agent Jason Waters, Special Agent Jason Huggins, Sgt. 1ST Class Steve Lynn, Staff Sgt. Shawn Goodwill, Nora Bennett, Terri Panco, and Courtland Pegan.
To Tom Colson, for your CID expertise.
To Bill Chadwell, for taking me through the intricacies of the Pentagon.
To Col. Marguerite Garrison (Ret.), for doing the same.
To Michael Furey, for your valuable help.
To Christine Craig, for walking me through USACIL.
To Bill Colwell and Rear Adm. John Faigle, USCG (Ret.), for introducing me to the wonderful Army and Navy Club.
To Maj. Gen. Karl Horst, for a great dinner and conversation.
To Dave and Karen Halverson, for the use of your last name.
To Timothy Imholt, you know why.
To Kristen and Natasha, because I’d be lost without you.
A special welcome to Erin Race as she joins the Columbus Rose team.
A wish for a great retirement to Lynette and Art, and heartfelt thanks for a job well done.
And last but far from least, to Roland Ottewell for another great editing job.