She clasped her hands and inclined slightly toward him. “It must be very difficult to live your entire life in the shadow of your father.”
“I’ve always considered it an honor.”
She gave him an amused look. “It’s not healthy to deceive yourself.”
“The particulars and the location?”
She spent five minutes telling him this. He keyed all of it into his tablet.
Jericho said, “So, as you can see, wrong place, wrong time. Just unbelievably unlucky for her. Dimitri, or Rogers rather, had just killed Audrey Moore. He had evidently taken her as she left work at Building Q. He must have been lurking nearby. One of the guards heard something and went to investigate and saw what was going on. He called in reinforcements. As the guards were trying to capture Rogers, your mother came along and saw Rogers, the dead woman, everything. Your mother apparently cried out, and turned to run. One of the guards reacted badly if instinctively. He struck her with his gun. And she died. Again, there was nothing I could do. I wasn’t even there.”
“So you already said.”
“Of course I would have liked things to have been handled differently, but back then we required absolute secrecy. I
t seemed the only way. The burial was a proper one,” she added offhandedly.
Puller snapped his briefcase closed and stood, slipping his cap under his arm. “You said you knew my father?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know my mother?”
Jericho’s eyelids fluttered. “I might have seen her around the installation from time to time.”
“She was beautiful. And more kind than she was beautiful. Everyone loved her.”
“I’m sure every son sees his mother in that light.”
“No they don’t. So you knew it was her, then? Walking by?”
“As I said, I wasn’t there.”
“Rogers says he didn’t see my mother, but that you were there.”
She chortled. “Oh, well, then by all means, put him on the witness stand. How many people has he murdered thus far?”
Puller continued as though he hadn’t heard her. “So your prized creation escapes and is methodically killing women on your staff because he can’t get to you.”
“Is that what he told you?” she interrupted.
Puller ignored this. “Because he can’t get to you,” he repeated. “And then he’s located right near Building Q killing another woman, and you’re not there?”
She spread her hands. “I was busy.”
“But you knew after the fact at the very least.”
“I think I already answered that question. But so what if I did?”
“I wonder if it pleased you.”
She looked at him curiously. “How so?”
“Getting back at my father in that way.”
“Why would I want to get back at him?”
“You described your relationship as a tank battle. That hardly seems friendly.”
“So what? Many people don’t agree on things. That doesn’t mean they all run out and try to injure each other.”
“Granted, but you strike me as the petty sort who would turn any criticism, no matter how minor, into a vendetta.”
“You’re being tiresome,” replied Jericho, starting to shuffle some papers on her desk.
Puller continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “And when my father didn’t see eye to eye with someone it was never a minor thing. He probably got right in your face and said things that you found unforgivable. So, considering your vindictive nature, you were probably thrilled to have caused him great personal pain, even if he didn’t know its source.”
She set aside the papers and gazed steadily at him. “Let me remind you that Rogers was the monster, not me. He was the killer, not me.”
Robert said imperturbably, “You created it. But we can agree to disagree on that point. But no communication? Not even anonymously, that would have given her family, my family some closure?”
“It never occurred to me,” she said bluntly.
“No, I imagine it wouldn’t.”
“I was simply doing my job.”
“So your job was stealing secrets from the government and selling them to a foreign agent for your own personal gain?”
She wearily shook her head. “Tiresome again, Robert. Do you have any proof whatsoever?”
“We did. But they’re both dead. Josh Quentin, I’m sure, at your hands.”
“I will put your unfortunate remarks down to your unstable emotional state. But any more talk like that and I will not agree to let your brother walk away from this unscathed. I hope I make myself clear on that point.”
“Actually, I’ve said all I came here to say.”
“Good. And Rogers? When can I expect him?”
“Soon. Very soon.”
Chapter
71
PULLER LOOKED DOWN at the patch of dirt. His brother was next to him. Knox stood a few feet behind them. And behind her was Paul Rogers.
They were thirty miles from Williamsburg, on a lonely stretch off Interstate 64 on the way to Richmond. A tree stood in front of them. It was massive. Thirty years ago it might have just been a sapling. On the north side of it was a sunken patch of ground.
They had not come alone. There was a forensics team with them.
A man wearing a CID windbreaker came up to Puller.
“You ready for us to proceed, Chief Puller?”
Puller said curtly, “Go ahead.”
The team moved forward, staked out the spot with tape, and began to dig.
Six feet later they were done.
Ropes were unraveled into the hole. Men in hazmat suits scrambled into the opening in the dirt. The rope was secured to the object. The order was given for the men above to pull.
They did, and the object soon came into view.
A metal box.
It was heavily stained and one side was partially crumpled, but it was still intact. Whatever was inside was not visible.
For that Puller breathed a silent prayer of thanks.
The box was loaded into the back of a waiting van. It pulled off while the team continued to process the scene.
Puller watched them for a bit and then he turned and looked at his brother.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“In a bit.”
Robert walked around the area for a few minutes, seemingly taking in everything about the patch of ground that might have constituted the resting place of their mother for the last three decades. Puller followed his every move with his eyes.
Rogers finally came over to him, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m…I’m sorry, Puller.”