David Baldacci - The Forgotten

Carson took one last sip of water and set her glass down. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’ve been reactive, actually. Not an ideal situation.”

“Eight guys. I’m impressed.”

“I only took out six. If the big man hadn’t been there we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“So if I’ve got this right, you’re investigating your aunt’s suspicious death. And her neighbor’s murder. You also have the disappearance of this kid Diego. There are two guys down here following you who are so well connected the Pentagon gets stonewalled. And some rich prick gets his Bentley blown sky-high. And I almost forgot the murders on the beach.”

“The two guys might not have been following me. They could have picked up my tail from when I visited my aunt.”

“Meaning their focus was her not you, which lends credence to the theory that she was murdered.”

“That’s how I see it,” said Puller.

“Which prompts the question of what the hell she was involved in that would get her that kind of attention. You sure she wasn’t some retired spy with a dark past?”

“If she was, she was damn good at keeping her cover. No, I think she found out something down here and that’s what got her killed. I wish she had been more specific in her letter, but she wasn’t.”

“You mentioned mileage on her car.”

“Right. Five miles out and five back. At least that’s my speculation. Jane Ryon said that five miles east seemed the best bet. But I’m not sure about her now, considering what happened to Cookie.”

“Have the police found her?”

“Don’t know. By now they should have, I guess.”

“She might be able to clear some things up if she is involved.”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the next move?”

“You really sure about this, Julie? I mean, you don’t have to do this.”

“I’ve been covering enlisted men’s backs most of my career. It’s why I’m beloved by the rank and file. Besides, my last few vacations have followed similar patterns and have been pretty boring. And my J2 assignment, while necessary for my career path, is pretty damn uninteresting at times. I need some excitement.”

Puller looked across the table at her. “Well, I think you came to the right place. But keep in mind that at least four people have died so far.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I thought the same thing about me, and I almost bought it. The punks I dealt with are nothing special. I just messed up but got lucky. I can’t count on being lucky again.”

She looked across at him, her amused features turning more serious. “So we treat this just like combat?”

“Just like combat,” he replied.

“So the next move?”

“The most obvious. We find out if the police have picked up Jane Ryon.”

“And if they haven’t?”

“Then we find her, before someone else does.”

“You really think she killed this Cookie person?”

“I have no idea. But if she did, she also might have killed my aunt.”

“And all the other stuff that’s been happening down here, you think it’s all connected?”

Puller thought about this for several long seconds while the sounds of traffic picked up out on the street as Paradise came to life.

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Meaning exactly that I don’t believe in coincidences.”

When they came out of the diner a police car was zipping past. It screeched to a stop and Cheryl Landry leaned her head out.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she began, before her gaze came to rest on Carson.

Puller noted this and said, “General Julie Carson, Officer Cheryl Landry.”

As Puller’s gaze swiveled between the two women he felt a pang of guilt. He had been out twice with Carson, though the first time was not a real date. However, he sensed the general was interested in something deeper than mere friendship. Landry clearly wanted a relationship with him. Thus having the two women together was deeply discomforting.

Carson nodded and said, “Nice to meet you, Officer Landry.”

“I’ve never met a general before.”

“Well, now you have, and we don’t look any different from anyone else,” said Carson.

“I won’t believe what?” said Puller.

“Two more murders. At the Plaza Hotel two blocks down. Two guys in a bedroom stabbed to death, it appears.”

“Two guys,” said Puller quickly.

Landry nodded. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t know if it’s the same two who you think have been following you.”

“You want us to come?” asked Puller.

Landry glanced at Carson and then at Puller. Puller, sensing her indecision, said, “Make the offer to Bullock. He can make the call if he wants.”

“Thanks.”

“Did you pick up Jane Ryon?”

But Landry had already hit the gas and the car had sped off.

Puller looked at Carson. “Two more dead.” “Who knew Paradise could be so damn bloody,” said Carson. “And of course it can’t be a coincidence,” she added, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Don’t think so.”

“So we wait until we get the okay from this Bullock guy? And what about Ryon?”

“We can check her out. But while we’re here I want to find out something else.”

She followed him down the street and away from the beach. The sun seemed to be fighting its way to the top of the sky with astonishing speed. Carson wiped a bead of sweat off her brow and picked up her pace so she was walking next to Puller.

“What’s this place we’re heading to?” “Diego’s.”

They passed the Sierra and Puller arrived at the building with the blue awning. He marched up to the second story and knocked on the door. No one came.

He knocked again.

And then a third time.

He heard footsteps and relaxed slightly as Carson looked at him expectantly.

The door opened. Puller had thought it would be one of two people. Diego or Isabel. Well, maybe three if one counted little Mateo.

It was none of them.

The woman standing there was in her sixties, short and plump with brown hair streaked heavily with silver. Her face was thickly lined and a prominent mole had grown in the crevice between her cheek and nose. She was dressed in sweatpants, cheap sneakers, and a dark top. She looked curiously from Puller to Carson.

“Si?”

So this was the abuela , thought Puller, the grandmother.

“Habla ingles, senora?” asked Puller.

“Yes. Poquito”

“My name is John Puller. I know Diego and Isabel and Mateo. I helped them out the other day. They might have told you.”

“Yes, they tell me.” Then her face collapsed and her shoulders started to shake. Puller put a hand under her arm to keep the woman from

slumping to the floor.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“ Los ninos , they no here.”

“Where are they?” asked Puller.

“Donde estan los ninos?” amended Carson.

“No se. Desaparecido.”

Puller looked at Carson. “They vanished?”

Carson nodded. “That’s what she said.”

Puller said, “Have you called the police? He llamado a la policia?”

She shook her head. “No policia. Nunca la policia.”

Carson said, “Doesn’t sound as though she likes the police very much.”

“She could be undocumented. And the kids too.”

“Right.”

Puller looked at the sobbing woman and said to Carson, “it could be the guys I beat up. But something feel me it’s not. But Diego did help me track down the two guys.”

“So the two guys made them disappear?”