on that, Father. But thank you.”
O’Neil shook hands with them again and said to Puller, “I wish you luck in your search.”
Outside, Knox said, “Okay, why do I feel like I need to say a hundred Hail Marys?”
“Confession might’ve cleared your soul.”
She lightly punched him in the arm. “So, on to Williamsburg?”
“On to Williamsburg. But I need to call them first.”
Puller made the call as they sat in the front seat of the Malibu. “The Clarks know we’re coming, and Father Rooney will be ready to talk to us,” he said once he was finished.
“How old is he now?”
“They said eighty,” replied Puller.
“Is he in full possession of his faculties?”
“Apparently enough to talk to us.”
“Have you seen your dad lately?”
“I was seeing my dad when Hull and a colonel showed up with the letter from my father’s accuser.”
“That must have been tough,” she said.
“Not something I’d want to go through every day.”
“Does your dad—?”
“Thankfully, he doesn’t know anything. And for the first time I’m thinking that’s a good thing.”
“Did you speak to Lynda Demirjian?”
“First on my list. I spoke to her husband, Stan, too. He doesn’t agree with her.”
“But he served under your father.”
“I know. He’s not totally unbiased.”
“What are you hoping to get from Rooney?” Knox asked
“Whether my mother was going to see him that night. She was dressed like she would for Mass.”
“She might have been going out.”
“She might have been. But if so, she probably would have mentioned it to the babysitter, and she didn’t. I talked to her too.”
“You really haven’t been letting the grass grow under your feet.”
“Not the Army way.”
“Your mother might not have mentioned it if she was going somewhere she didn’t want anyone to know about.”
“Well, she walked wherever she was going all dressed up for everyone to see. How clandestine could it be?”
“I wasn’t necessarily implying that she was having an affair.”
“Sure you were. And trust me, I thought about that scenario, as much as I didn’t want to. But in the end, I don’t believe she would do that. A girlfriend would have known. It would have come out. None of the people I talked to mentioned anything like that. There would have been signs. And my mother was devoutly religious. Adultery is a mortal sin. I just don’t see it.”
“The way you state the case I think you’re right.”
They drove the rest of the way to Williamsburg in silence.
Kelly Adams was Father Rooney’s niece. She had taken him in two years ago. His sister—Adams’s mother—had lived with her daughter until she had died a few years back.
All of this Adams explained as she was leading Puller and Knox through the substantial footprint of her home not far from the historic area of Williamsburg.
“Very nice place,” noted Knox. “Your yard is beautiful, everything in bloom.”
“I love it here,” said Adams, a petite woman in her late forties with short dark hair. “I went to William and Mary, right down the street. And my daughter goes there now.”
“Great school,” said Puller.
“One of the best,” agreed Adams. “George is on the rear patio waiting for you.”
“George?” said Puller.
“Oh, I’m sorry. You probably just knew him as Father Rooney. His first name is George.”
“No, it wouldn’t. However, I wasn’t expecting her that night. If I had been I would have told the police.”
Puller nodded, slowly taking this in. He knew this probably was the case, but he still had had to pursue this lead.
“In your discussions with her did she seem happy? Were there problems with my father?”
Rooney held up a hand. “Although I’m no longer an active priest I will carry the sanctity of my conversations with my parishioners to the grave. So I’m afraid I can’t discuss such matters.”
“Even if we’re trying to find out what happened to her?” said Knox.