Pine sighed and slumped back against the car seat. “All of that makes perfect sense. Maybe more sense than any other explanation.” Pine fell silent, but as she sat there her expression changed, evolving from hopeless to curious.
“What?” said Blum, who knew her so well.
“Two questions. First, in the letter Bruno Vincenzo said he got screwed over. What do you really think he meant by that?” When Blum shook her head, Pine said, “I think he didn’t rat my mom out because he wanted to cut a deal and save himself. Only that deal didn’t happen. I wonder why.”
“And the second question?”
“One I’ve voiced before: How the hell did Ito Vincenzo know we were in Andersonville, Georgia?”
Chapter 18
THIS SHOULD NEVER HAVE HAPPENED. You shouldn’t be dead.
John Puller was staring down at the body of CID Special Agent Ed McElroy.
My agent, my responsibility. Buck stopped with no one other than me. No excuses.
His wife, and now widow, had been notified of his death and was on her way here to confront the absolute worst reality a spouse would ever have to face.
Puller left the facility and returned to his car. He drove across town to the police building, where he had been informed the investigative unit that was handling the shooting and Jerome Blake’s death was stationed. He met a stonewall at the front reception desk despite showing his creds, badge, clear connection to the case, and earnest manner in wanting to understand what was going on with the local side of the investigation.
The sergeant, who was called in to handle the situation when Puller had deemed the first two officers insufficiently senior and uninformed, seemed finally to take pity on him.
“Army, huh?” said the man, giving Puller the once-over with a pair of scrutinizing eyes.
“Chief warrant officer.”
“West Point?”
“No. I’m enlisted. Noncommissioned officer. My father went to West Point, but I chose another path.”
“My youngest boy’s in Iraq now,” the sergeant said, letting his guard down a bit. “Been there about six months now. Did you fight over there?”
Puller nodded. “Came back with metal inside me I didn’t start out life with. But it was a privilege and honor to serve my country.”
The cop, hefty and broad shouldered but with a softening expression on his features, nodded. “Hope my boy comes back in one piece.”
“Nothing about combat is safe, but the Army takes great pains to train their people for every situation and provide the best equipment to do the job.”
“Good to know, Agent Puller. And we all appreciate you serving our country.” He looked around. “Um, look, let me check on something. You hang right there, sir.”
While he stepped away Puller eyed the small space. It had photos of the current police commissioner, mayor, governor, and president. They all smiled at him from their official portraits. He had nothing to smile back about. What was happening to him right now made no sense, but it apparently made perfect sense to others. And that disturbed the hell out of him.
“Can I help you?”
Puller turned to see a petite young woman who looked to be in her late twenties standing behind the desk, the hefty cop nowhere in sight. She had large brown eyes and short dark hair that revealed a slender, freckled neck. The ID lanyard around that neck identified her as being with the public affairs office. The large eyes were looking at him questioningly.
Puller came forward and put out his hand. “CID Special Agent John Puller.”
She didn’t shake his hand. “I know who you are, Agent Puller. I’m just wondering why you’re here. I’m very busy, so I hope it’s nothing complicated because I really can’t spare the time. I’m sure you can understand.”
Every hair on the back of Puller’s neck stood up at her mindless and condescending statement. “One of my men was shot last night here in Trenton. I’m working the case in conjunction with the local police here.”
“I’m aware of the unfortunate death of Agent McElroy.” She stopped there and continued to stare at him as though challenging him to come up with a reason why their conversation should be extended.
“We’re doing the post on him now. We’ll have a bullet to provide to your unit to match to the murder weapon, which you have in your custody.”
“There’s no question about who killed your agent and what gun was used to do it,” she pointed out.
“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.