David Baldacci - Daylight

“You said you were there. How bad is it?”

“Had to have been a rifle round. Went through Jeff Sands’s skull before it hit your brother, so that was good. A lot less kinetic energy.”

“Where did the round hit him?”

Pine touched her upper torso on the left side. “Here. In and out, which I hope was good. But he bled a lot. I stopped it as best I could. Then the paramedics arrived and took over. He was in and out of consciousness, then they put him on a drip, and he went under. His vitals on the ride were critical, but stable.”

Pine had to sit down because recounting all of this so clinically and impersonally had suddenly run up against the fact that the person she was discussing was a friend and that he might still die.

Puller sat down next to her and gripped her shoulder. “He’s the toughest man I know, Agent Pine. If anyone can pull through, he will.”

Pine leveled a far calmer gaze on him. “Please, make it Atlee.” She paused, desperately wanting to change the subject. “John mentioned you used an algorithm to turn up Gloria Miles, which led us to Jeff Sands. How did you do that, Colonel Puller?”

“I go by Robert.” Puller sat back and brushed at his regulation short hair. “From what John explained to me, I concluded that we were operating in exalted circles. No run-of-the-mill drug dealer can get a vice chair removed from his assignment at the Pentagon on a day’s notice because the man was making inquiries. That narrowed things down quite a bit. I ran a script on possible connections between highly ranked politicos and any connection at all to criminal activity, including drug dealing, because it seemed to have a nexus to what you were looking into. I ran a series of calculations and the one name that kept popping out was Jeff Sands and his grandfather, Peter Driscoll. Next, I looked for any connection to them that John could use as an investigative point of contact. That’s how I got to the godmother, Gloria Miles.”

“How long did all of this take you?” asked a wide-eyed Pine.

“I did it over lunch. I’m not that fast, but the computers I use are, and the databases they have access to are truly immense.”

“Can the FBI borrow you for like the rest of your life?” interjected Blum.

Puller added, “But now Sands is dead. So that lead is dead, too.” “At least we know more now than we did,” said Pine. “But all I want right now is to hear that John is going to be fine.”

At that moment the door to the visitors room opened once more. The woman was in her fifties and she wore blue scrubs and spectacles. Her hair was salt and pepper and her expression was one, it seemed to Pine, of relief.

“Agent Pine?”

“Yes,” she said, jumping up. Robert Puller did likewise.

“He’s out of surgery and stable. He’s going to make it. He’s quite a strong young man.”

“Yes he is. This is his brother, Robert Puller.”

Puller shook hands with the surgeon. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I noticed that he had several previous wounds that had healed.”

“He’s Army. Middle East.”

The doctor nodded. “That explains it. Well, he just added another one to the collection.”

“When can we see him?”

“He’s in recovery and needs to rest. I would say later today or tomorrow even. He’s strong, but he’s been through a lot.”

Pine said, “Will . . . will he make a full recovery?”

“I think he’ll be fine.”

“I mean, physically and all. Like he was before. He’s a CID agent in the Army.”

“Oh, I see.” She looked from Pine to Puller. “Well, I can’t make any guarantees, but I hope that he will. I can’t say one hundred percent. There was some internal damage. But from the looks of him, and from what you just told me, I wouldn’t bet against him, either.”

She left and closed the door.

Pine and Puller collapsed into their chairs. Pine put a supportive arm on Puller’s shoulder. “He’s going to make it, Robert, that’s what’s most important.”

“Thank God,” Puller said quietly.

To herself Pine added, “Yes, thank you, God. Thank you.”

CHAPTER

45

A FEW HOURS LATER PINE AND BLUM left the hospital and returned to Lineberry’s condo. Robert Puller had opted to stay at the hospital. Pine texted him her address. She planned to be back at the hospital later that day. Hopefully, they could see John Puller then.

An exhausted Pine slept until two in the afternoon, then sat in her bedroom and looked out the window. The day looked like it would be warmer than the previous ones had been, and free of rain. Her belly was empty, and she had a hunger headache, but she didn’t want to waste time eating right now. She felt terrible guilt for what had happened to Puller. She knew all about the company line—that it came with the territory—but still . . . she felt immense responsibility for the man’s nearly dying.

And with Sands dead, they really had no leads to pursue.

She phoned Robert Puller. He told her that his brother seemed to be doing as well as possible. She thanked him for the info and said she would come to the hospital later.

She showered and changed into fresh clothes. When she came out, Blum had a meal on the table.

“Carol, thank you, but you don’t have to do this. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“It gives me something to do, Agent Pine. I don’t like feeling idle and useless.”

Pine’s phone buzzed. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was a New Jersey area code. She answered it.

The voice said, “Agent Pine, this is Norma Bailey, I’m the principal at Jerome Blake’s school.”

“Yes, Mrs. Bailey?”

“I wanted to let you know that I have the photos of the school employees ready for your review.”

“Can you email them to me?”

“Yes. I can do that right now. Have you made any progress on what happened to Jerome?”

“A little, but things are getting very complicated very fast.”

“I hope you find the truth. Jerome deserves that.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Pine gave her the email address. A minute later the photos were deposited in her inbox.

She looked at Blum. “I just got the photos of the school personnel from Norma Bailey at Jerome’s school.”

“Terrific. Now we just have to find that young man, what was his name again?”

“Peanut. But I have a shortcut that I hope will save us some time.”

They left New York and drove back to Trenton, arriving at Jerome Blake’s home about ninety minutes later. His mother answered their knocks.

“Have you found out who killed my boy?” she said.

“Not yet, but we’re still working on it,” replied Pine. “We met a friend of Jerome’s, he said his name was Peanut?”

Blake nodded, looking thoughtful. “Jerome and Peanut were real tight when they were younger, then they went their separate ways.”

“Do you know where we might find Peanut? And what’s his real name?”

“Donald Washington. His grandma lives on the next block over. What does he have to do with what happened to Jerome?”

“He told us he saw a man speaking to Jerome the day of the shooting, at school. He said Jerome looked really weird afterward. I’ve got some pictures of employees at the school to show him. To see if he recognizes the man. Can you give us Peanut’s address so I can do that?”

“Peanut don’t live at home anymore. Just his grandma there now, and she’s doing poorly.”

“So where might we find him?” asked Pine.

“He hangs out over at a gym on Broad Street. Calhoun’s.”

“Why a gym? Does he like to work out?”

“A few guys box there. But I don’t think most folks who go there care nothing ’bout working out. It’s just a safe place to go to and hang out. You find the guy who owns it. His name’s Gerald. He’s a good man.”