The Forgotten (20 page)

I
T WAS THE FIRST TIME
Puller had seen men fly without benefit of an aircraft.

Or so it seemed.

Their feet left the floor like they were attached to piano wire and someone had just hit a switch, lifting them skyward.

The next moment their heads collided. The sound was like a pair of cantaloupes smacking against one another. Puller could see the sensation of the violent collision spread to their eyes and mouths. The eyes winced, rolled in their heads, and then closed. The mouths opened wide, cries of pain came out of them, and then they closed, like the eyes. But unlike the eyes they closed only for a moment. Then they sagged open, even as their bodies became dead weight and they dropped to the floor. They hit it hard, guns skidding away. Blood pooled from their open mouths where teeth had cut deeply into tongues.

Standing behind the two small men was the giant, the man Puller had seen twice before. It seemed that the rear guard had done the unforgivable. They had used the giant’s room as their staging area without his permission. That was the only reason Puller could fathom for the man doing what he had done.

He straightened and stared at the giant. Puller’s M11 twitched in his hand. The giant was unarmed but still looked uncomfortably lethal and completely unafraid as he stood there, staring back at Puller.

Puller said, “Thanks.”

The giant said nothing. He glanced once at Puller’s sidearm, as
though gauging whether this was a threat that needed to be dealt with now. Then he put one enormous boot on the torso of the first man and pushed. The man’s body slid into the room Puller was in. A moment later another push sent the other man sliding into the room.

The giant looked at Puller.

Puller looked at the giant.

“I’ll try to keep things more quiet,” said Puller.

Puller thought he saw a hint of a smile before the giant closed the door to his room. A few moments later Puller could hear the screech of sagging bedsprings. The giant was apparently going to sleep after this minor interruption.

Puller holstered his weapon but pulled it again in an instant, found his target, and prepared to fire.

“It’s me! It’s me!”

Cheryl Landry held her gun up in a surrender position.

Puller slowly lowered his M11 and lifted up his goggles.

“Sorry.”

She gazed around at the mess of humanity that lay sprawled around his room.

“Shit, Puller. What the hell did you do? There are three more laid out in the hall.”

“I just take them on as they come.” He holstered his gun.

“You were smart to call me. Sorry I didn’t get here in time.”

“I could’ve waited, but that was my call. Nothing you could have done.”

“Why didn’t you wait,” she said, pouncing on this admission, “until I got here?”

“My fight. No need for you to get involved except in the cleanup.”

“Do I translate that as meaning you didn’t think I could hold my own?”

“You’re a cop, Landry. If we had fought these clowns together you’d be doing paperwork the rest of your life to explain the whys and hows. And then your career would still be in the toilet. But for that I would have no problem with you backing me up. And believe me, I don’t make such a statement lightly.”

She seemed both put off and mollified by this statement. She slid her weapon into her belt holster. She was not in uniform. She had on jeans, black-soled tennis shoes, and a gray hoodie with a sliver of black T-shirt revealed underneath.

He watched as she counted off in her head.

Five here, three in the hall, he interpreted.

She looked up at him incredulously.

“You took out eight guys all by yourself?” She noted the guns, bats, and metal bar. “And they were armed?”

Puller’s gaze shifted for one millisecond to the sounds of snoring coming from the next room. The giant had dropped off fast. But something told him the man could awaken and kill any attacker within a pair of seconds. He decided it would be much too complicated to bring him into the discussion with Landry.

He said, “They were eight
stupid
guys. Armed has nothing to do with it, if you don’t give yourself a chance to use your weapons.”

“You said it was three guys who were attacking the girl earlier?”

Puller nodded and pointed to White, Black, and Latino. “These three idiots here. The girl is too scared to press charges. But I’ll be glad to. They weren’t here to welcome me back to my room. Attempted murder at least.” He paused. “And I doubt they have permits for those guns. You know any of them?”

Landry pulled a small but powerful light from her hoodie pocket and shined it on each of the fallen men.

She nodded. “These two, yeah,” she said, indicating Black and White. “They don’t belong to any gangs that I’m aware of. But they’ve got a rap sheet with us.”

“I heard they were too dumb and unreliable to be of any use to a gang.”

“Where did you hear that from?”

“Confidential source.”

“You’ve been here a little over twelve hours. Where do you get confidential sources that fast?”

“You work at it.”

“I’m going to call for transport on this.”

“Okay.”

“Paperwork to fill out.”

“I bet.”

“It can wait until morning.”

“Appreciate that.”

“You got another place to stay?”

Puller thought about this. His aunt’s house was an option. But right now he considered it an unprocessed crime scene. His moving in there, even for a night, could potentially foul up some important evidence. He couldn’t bring himself to do that, even if it was more convenient for him personally.

“My car.”

“The Vette?”

“No. Another set of wheels. Figured the Vette was too conspicuous.”

“I’d agree with that.“

“So I can sleep in my vehicle.”

“On the street?”

“Why, don’t you keep them safe?”

“Puller, you just beat the crap out of eight guys who live in Paradise. I’m sure all eight have friends and family who might want a little revenge. They’ll be looking for you, whether you’re in a car or in another cheap motel.”

“Well, I can rent a blanket and lie out on the beach.”

“You’re not getting my point. They could come and kill you.”

“You got any suggestions, then? I’m fresh out of ideas.”

Landry looked uncertain, and then she looked uncomfortable. Her changing features piqued Puller’s interest. He wondered what she would say.

“Look, you can stay at my place. Just for tonight,” she added quickly.

“You in Paradise?”

“Just next door in Destin.”

“You don’t care to live in Paradise?”

“I like the view in Destin better. Besides, it’s only fifteen minutes away. But it’s an important fifteen minutes. For you. I doubt the friends and family will find you there.”

“You don’t have to put me up.”

“I know I don’t. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

“You don’t really know me.”

“I told you my brother’s in the Army. He checked you out for me. Said there’s not an enlisted with a better record in the service. The only knock against you is why you didn’t go to West Point. And my brother said your father was like Patton and Schwarzkopf rolled into one.”

“I wouldn’t disagree with that. Although he probably rotates closer to Patton, at least in his bedside manner.”

“So you’ll stay at my place?”

“Okay, just for the night.”

“Just for the night,” she repeated and then slipped her phone out and called for police and medical transport for eight men who’d had the shit kicked out of them.

After she finished and put her phone away she said, “Bullock will want to see you about this.”

“I bet he will. In fact, I’ve already seen him tonight.”

“Did he bite your head off?”

“I think we’ve reached an understanding, actually.”

“Okay. But I wouldn’t count on that holding after this.”

“Right.”

“You’ve sort of set a record for mayhem in Paradise.”

“I can see that.”

“You going to be here much longer?”

“Wish I could tell you for sure, but I can’t.”

“Your aunt?”

“My aunt.”

“You just don’t let go, do you?”

“Never saw the point,” replied Puller.

P
ULLER WAS FOLLOWING
L
ANDRY
over to her place. She was ahead of him in a dark blue, white-topped Toyota FJ four-by-four Cruiser. It looked rugged and durable and ready to roll on asphalt or sand, which was probably why she had purchased it. Puller had pegged her as particularly no-nonsense. He also could tell this by her keeping exactly to the speed limit as they headed west to Destin.

On the way he phoned his brother at USDB. The call had been scheduled in advance, as required, and although he was late phoning in, he was put through a few seconds later.

Robert Puller had been awaiting his younger brother’s call and picked up immediately.

“Sorry for the late call,” said Puller. “I got sidetracked.”

“That’s okay. I was going to go out tonight, but decided to just stay here and wait for you to ring up.”

“Nice to hear you’ve retained your sense of humor.”

“Most important thing I’ve got, actually. Maybe the only thing I’ve got.”

“I can see that.”

“Now, when you get sidetracked it usually means someone is lying all bloody in a ditch.”

“They’re not in a ditch,” said Puller. “They’re in a holding cell.”

“Talk to me.”

Puller conveyed most of what had happened in Paradise over the last dozen hours or so. When he recounted it, he was amazed that he had packed so much into so little time.

“You’ve been busy,” said Robert.

“Wasn’t really by choice.”

“So a journal is missing from Betsy’s house?”

“Looks to be.”

“And a ten-mile drive at night?”

“That was just a guess. I’ll have to confirm it.”

“And the guys following you?”

“Got a contact at USACIL working on that. Hopefully I’ll hear something soon.”

“Sorry you had to see Aunt Betsy like that.”

“How much of the summers we spent with her and Uncle Lloyd do you remember?”

“Pretty much every second. She was an unforgettable lady. Sort of like the Old Man but with compassion and a heart.”

Puller nodded. That would have been his articulated assessment as well. “Some of the best times we ever had,” he noted.

“Sometimes I think we’re the way we are because of her more than the Old Man,” said Robert.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” replied Puller. “But the older I get the more I think I’m like the Old Man too much.”

“Stop thinking that, it’ll drive you crazy.”

“Maybe it already has.”

“You’re the sanest man I know. And that’s saying something.”

“Maybe, Bobby. But maybe not.”

“So what do you think? Was she murdered?”

“Factor in the journal missing, if that’s what it was, the folks tailing me, the fact that I think the lawyer is lying to me, and what was in Aunt Betsy’s note—yeah, I think she was murdered.”

“But the police don’t see it that way?”

“Not now they don’t. That could change.”

“So who’re in the holding cells?”

“Just some folks I had a disagreement with. Not connected to what I’m down here for.”

“You really can’t be sure about that.”

“You’re right, I can’t be. But it’s just my gut.”

“What are your next steps?”

“Get some sleep. I’m running on empty right now.”

“Anything else?”

Puller hesitated, then decided to say it. “There’s a guy down here. Bigger than me. Stronger than me. Probably can kick my ass.”

“That qualifies as remarkable. What’s the connection to you?”

“Don’t know that there is any. Could just be wrong place, wrong time.”

“You could just shoot him.”

“He actually helped me out tonight. I don’t think he did it because he was a Good Samaritan. I think he was just pissed that somebody was disturbing his sleep.”

“Okay. I think I follow that, but not really.”

“How are things on your end?”

“The views haven’t changed.”

Puller cracked a grin, but then it faded. “Yeah.”

“So after you get some sleep, what then?”

“Run the ten miles Betsy might have done. Work on the lawyer angle. Follow up with USACIL. I’m getting my duffel of goodies tomorrow at Eglin AFB. Then I can start acting like a real investigator again.”

“Sounds like a plan. But watch your back, John. You’re there solo and you don’t really know who to trust. And it sounds like you have reason to distrust quite a few people right now.”

“Good advice, Bobby.”

“So how’s the house?”

“What?”

“Aunt Betsy’s house, how is it?”

“It’s nice. Near the water.”

“You gonna be moving down there now that it’s yours?”

“I doubt it.”

“Come on, lots of people move to Florida.”

“Honestly, Paradise is turning out to be way too dangerous for my tastes.”

Puller clicked off and kept driving.