They settled in the living room. She’d pointed him to an upholstered chair and she sat on a small loveseat across from him.
On the walls were pictures of Carson with an array of high-ranking military personnel and politicians. Every one of these people, and they were mostly men, had probably been instrumental in her career path. He had noted a similar photo wall in her office at the Pentagon.
“Nice place.”
“I like it.”
“I still live like I was back in college.”
“I’m sorry,” she said bluntly. “Maybe it’s time you grew up.”
“Maybe it is.”
“I’m not sure what sort of follow-up questions you might have.”
“Based on new information.”
“What new information?” she scoffed.
“About Colonel Reynolds.” He stopped and stared at her.
“Okay, I’m waiting, or am I supposed to guess?”
Puller took his time sliding out his official notebook and uncapping his pen. While he
was doing that, he was also watching her. He saw Carson run her eye over his ribbon rows. You didn’t wear your ribbons or medals on your fatigues. But the dress uniform showed them in all their glory. And she could not help but come away impressed. Like his SAC had observed, Puller had been a stud in the field. The colored ribbons and bits of metal had never meant much to him. The actions behind the official awards were what he remembered. But if the military’s display of bragging rights got someone’s attention in an investigation, they were worth their weight in gold to him.
“You’ve accomplished a lot, Puller,” she said with grudging admiration.
“Only thing I want to accomplish right now is to find a killer.”
“Then you’re wasting your time sitting here talking to me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Get to the damn point. I’ve got better things to do than this. As I told you, I have to give the briefing tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, I’m kind of surprised you’re not still there making sure it’s perfect for the four-star.”
“That’s none of your damn business. And let’s not forget which of us has the star. I’m beginning to lose my patience. And just so you know, I’ve got good contacts at CID.”
“I’m sure you do.” He glanced up at her photo wall to see the image of the current CID head staring back at him. “And I’m sure they’re better than mine.”
“So get to the point!”
“Talk to me about what Colonel Reynolds told you about what was happening in West Virginia. Specifically what he was concerned about.”
She looked at him in bewilderment. “I already told you that Reynolds didn’t talk to me about anything that happened in West Virginia.”
“I know. I’ve got it written down in my notebook. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to correct the record before it becomes permanent.”
The two stared stonily at one another.
“I don’t like what you’re implying,” she said.
“And I don’t like being lied to.”
“You’re way out of line.”
“What’s out of line is giving me false information that will make it that much harder for me to find Reynolds’s killer.”
“Who told you that I knew anything about this?”
“I’m an investigator. It’s my job to find out things.”
“If people are saying false things about me, I have every right to know.”
“If they’re false. But not if they’re true.”
She folded her arms and sat back.
He noted this. Before her posture was aggressive. Hands on knees, torso angled toward his, just begging to tell the truth and get this over with. Now things had changed.
She must’ve noted his appraisal, because she said, “I helped revise the manual on interrogation techniques, Puller, so spare yourself the embarrassment of trying to read me.”
“Would that be enhanced interrogation techniques, ma’am?”
“You know as well as I do that the Army adheres to the Geneva Convention.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
But she sat still farther back and her eye contact was not as direct.
He decided to press his advantage. “Was Reynolds a good soldier?”
“Yes, he was. I told you that.”
“And good soldiers follow chain of command?”
“Yes.”
“So if I told you that Reynolds had told someone else of his concerns who was not in his chain of command, it seems likely, does it not, that he would have told his direct superior as well? Meaning you? He’s the eagle cluster. You’re the one-star, as you so clearly pointed out to me.”
She crossed her legs, her chin dipping slightly. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Sure you do. The truth will do just fine.”
“I can have your ass in the stockade for a statement like that.”
“But you won’t.”
“Why? Because of your old man? He’s long gone from the ranks, Puller. So don’t try that leverage on me, legend or not.”
“That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Sure it was. Your poker face leaves a lot to be desired.”
Puller continued on as though he hadn’t heard her. “Actually, I was thinking of that star on your shoulder.”
Her features hardened even more. She actually looked like she might jump up and attack him. But to an experienced interrogator such as Puller, he could see just beneath this hard shell the beginnings of fear in the woman.
“Why?” she said. “Thinking of trying to knock it off? Don’t even bother. I worked my ass off for it. I earned it.”
“Actually, ma’am, I was thinking that your shoulders look broad enough to carry that star and probably at least one more.”
This tactic had clearly surprised her. Carson uncrossed her arms and legs and sat forward. She eyed the notebook.
Acknowledging this subtle gesture, he said, “This will all go in the report as though it took place at our initial meeting at the Pentagon.”
“Frankly, I didn’t expect that sort of nuance from you, Puller.”
“Probably most people don’t.”
She looked down, her fingers nervously rubbing together. When she looked up she said, “You want to go grab a cup of coffee? I feel like getting some fresh air.”
He rose. “My treat.”
“No,” she said quickly. “I think I’ll buy, soldier.”
CHAPTER
55
THIS SECTION OF ARLINGTON had a million places to get coffee within walking distance. Puller and Carson passed several such establishments, but all were crowded with yakking teenagers and their smartphones and laptops. They passed these and entered one off the beaten path where they were the only customers. The humidity had broken and the air was crisp and refreshing. They sat next to an open window in the café.
Puller placed his hot cup of coffee down after taking a sip and studied her.
Before leaving the condo she’d slipped on a white long-sleeved T-shirt and Nike sneakers. There were lines around her eyes, crow’s-feet that were stamped in more deeply than a civilian’s. Leading people who carried weapons just did that to a person. Her blonde hair stood out starkly from her tan. She was quite attractive and super-fit and carried herself like she was well aware of both. He knew she was forty-two and had worked her butt off for the one star. He had no desire to derail her career. Everyone was entitled to one professional mistake, and this was probably going to be hers.
“You wear your dress greens well,” she said quietly. “Special occasion?”