David Baldacci - Daylight

“There are a great many questions to resolve,” replied Puller. He took a step forward, cutting in half the distance between them. He glanced at the name on the lanyard. “So, Ms. Lanier, I’m here to discuss the investigation with your people. That’s how it’s done on a joint case like this. Surely you’re aware of that.”

“I wasn’t aware it was a joint case.”

“How can it not be?” Puller shot back in a harsher tone than he probably intended at this point in the sniffing-out exercise that was taking place between the two. “A federal agent was shot and killed. One of your men shot the alleged killer. I’m sorry if you don’t want to hear a complicated case, but this clearly is one.”

“He shot the shooter—saving an FBI agent in the process, if I recall correctly.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean, ‘maybe’? It’s clear that’s what happened.”

“I wish it were as clear to me. But that’s why we investigate. So I’d like to talk to him and—”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you need to talk to him?”

The question was so odd and out of bounds that it gave Puller, a seasoned investigator if ever there was one, pause. “He fired his weapon. He was involved in what happened. He might have seen things pertinent to the investigation.”

“I believe he filed his report.”

“Can I see it?”

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“And I’m not sure what you’re saying makes any sense at all. You can’t deny me a look at his report.”

She shrugged off this rebuke.

“Difference of opinion.” “Difference of reality,” said Puller, taking the kid gloves off because it was clear that approach was akin to attacking an aircraft carrier with a jet ski.

“I don’t like your tone.”

“And I don’t like being cut out of an investigation in which I have a clear reason to be involved.”

“You may not understand how we do things here.”

“On the contrary, I’ve worked two cases with the Trenton police and three with the New Jersey State Police and one case with the Newark cops. I received nothing but the highest professionalism and the fullest cooperation, with the result that we successfully cleared every single case.”

“Well, I think we have things well in hand on this one. We have the shooter. He’s dead. Case couldn’t be clearer. It’s over and done with.”

“Excuse me, are you a trained investigator? Because your ID says ‘public affairs.’ ”

“I have been briefed on the matter.”

“Which is more than I can say,” retorted Puller.

“I think you know all you need to know about the case. It’s been resolved, Agent Puller. You can freely move on to other unsolved cases.”

“Your opinion on the matter, unfortunately, carries no weight with me since you were clearly plucked out to come here and tell me absolutely nothing.”

“I’m doing my job,” she shot back.

“So am I—at least I’m trying to, but you’re not helping.”

“I didn’t know that it was my job to help you. But, regardless, I wish you good luck in whatever you’re doing.”

Puller held out his card. “If anything occurs to you, I’d appreciate a call.”

She didn’t take it. Lanier turned and walked back through a doorway, closing it hard behind her.

A moment later the hefty cop appeared from another door.

“How did it go, Agent Puller?” he asked hopefully.

“It didn’t,” replied Puller as he turned and walked out into a gathering storm. It was not nearly as intense as the one going on inside his head.

CHAPTER

19

OVER THE PHONE JACK LINEBERRY sounded weak and a bit depressed. He’d known both of Pine’s parents for decades. Pine had recently learned that he’d worked with a government agency back then on the sting operation against the mob in which Pine’s mother acted as a mole. Lineberry had been sent to Andersonville to watch over them, a mission at which he’d failed. Since then, he’d become extremely wealthy through an investment company he had started.

And Pine had also learned that Jack Lineberry was her and Mercy’s father , having conceived them with their mother before she met the man Pine thought had been her father, Tim Pine.

“Jack, are you okay?” asked Pine in a worried tone.

She had put her phone on speaker so that Blum could listen in.

“Just a bad day. Some infection, they said, and a bit of pain accompanying.”

“Wait a minute, are you still in the hospital? I thought they were releasing you.”

“They’ve assured me it’s nothing serious, but they are keeping me a while longer, as a precautionary measure.”

“Are they sure it’s not serious?”

“Yes, just typical postsurgery stuff, but I’m feeling claustrophobic. I just want out of here. Hence, my mood is not all that good.”

“Hang in there, Jack. They need to make sure you’re good to go.”

“Where are you?”

“Trenton.”

“Ito Vincenzo, then?” he said.

“Yes. We’ve found out a few things and had some curveballs thrown our way.”

“Such as?”

Pine said, “Such as Ito’s grandson, Tony, is a fleeing fugitive. And Ito’s son and Tony’s dad, Teddy, was just murdered in prison shortly after I spoke with him.”

To his credit, Lineberry did not sound shocked by any of this. “Life is full of curveballs, Atlee,” he said quietly. “And I surely speak from experience on that.”

“Which is why I’m calling you for some help.”

Lineberry said, “Your call could not have been better timed. It will give me something to do while I wait for the next bad meal they’re going to serve me today.”

Pine told him about the letter they had found in Evie Vincenzo’s closet.

“What?” gasped Lineberry. “That sounds like Bruno knew about your mother’s working with us.”

His heavy breathing was making her worried. Pine said, “I don’t think you’re in a condition to hear any more.”

“No, no, I’m . . . I’m fine, please go on.”

“I take it you didn’t know that Bruno might have known about my mom.”

Lineberry said disgustedly, “Bruno Vincenzo was a cold-blooded killer. If I had known that, I would have pulled the plug on the whole op in a New York minute.”

“He said he didn’t rat out my mom, but that he was screwed over. He made it sound like he had worked a deal where he would get some sort of immunity but that it didn’t come through.”

“I can’t believe that, I really can’t. But you have to understand that I was kept out of the loop on the legal end of things. I’m not a lawyer. My job was to watch over your mother. Any deal would have to have been made with the prosecutors, the folks at the FBI, and ultimately the Justice Department. Not with me. But still, I would have been made aware of it, or at least I should have been. Bruno knowing about your mother’s real role comes squarely down on the operation’s side. That was my jurisdiction. If the lawyers did cut such a deal and didn’t tell us? Well, it would have been incredibly stupid. If we had known we would have changed how we engineered the whole op. I guess we could have used Bruno as an asset. Not that I would have ever trusted the son of a bitch.”

“He eventually did turn state’s evidence,” pointed out Pine.

“Right, only to save his own ass. And he failed at that, and you won’t find me crying over it. That guy probably had the blood of at least fifty people on his hands. Good riddance.”

“But assuming that Bruno’s having found out about my mother’s undercover status was relayed to the prosecutors, why wouldn’t they have struck a deal with him? I mean, he had leverage. He could have blown the whole investigation, like you said. He could have put my mother’s life in danger. They might not have had a choice but to go along.”