“You picked the right store to fly into. A linen shop. You hit the glass, which was hard. But you fell into a display of comforters and very soft pillows. Sort of cushioned everything.”
“And Carter?” she mumbled.
He shook his head and said grimly, “Didn’t make it. Neither did Sullivan or the driver. Nothing much left of any of them.”
“How long have I been here?”
“They brought you in last evening. It’s now late afternoon.”
“I suppose people want to question me?”
“They do. But I got permission to come in here and sit with you until you came around. The cops and the Feds are all over the crime scene. Lots of people saw things. They’ve got lots of statements.”
“But I bet they don’t know what I saw.”
Puller sat down in a chair next to her bed. “So why don’t you tell me what that was?”
Knox glanced at the glass door to her room and saw a police officer, a man in a suit, and a burly MP standing guard there.
“They’re not taking any chances with you,” he said, following her gaze. “Cops, FBI, and the military.”
She turned back to Puller and slowly but clearly told him what she had seen. The van, the kid, everything.
“So it was a deliberate setup the whole way,” Puller concluded.
“It appeared to be. But why target Carter?”
“Well, he heads up an important part of our nation’s defenses. He’s a target just by virtue of that.”
“No, I get that. I’m just looking at the timing. Why now?”
“You mean is it connected to what we’re doing?”
“It could be.”
He looked her over. “You up for some information sharing?”
She smiled and slid her hand around his forearm. “With you here I’m up for anything.”
Puller placed his hand on top of hers. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when this happened, Knox. I should’ve been.”
“You had no way to know I was going off half-cocked on my little sleuthing trip.”
“You tried to save them. Over the phone I heard you screaming for them to get out of the car.”
She shook her head, looked miserable, and put a hand to her face. She let out a sob, her eyes filled with tears, and she moaned, “I didn’t see it fast enough, Puller. I should’ve seen it faster, but I didn’t.”
“You did everything you possibly could. You had seconds, maybe not even seconds. No matter what you did or didn’t do, Knox, they weren’t going to make it. They were already dead. They just didn’t know it. So while you may want to take the blame for it, please don’t. It won’t help you or them.”
She let out another sob, composed herself, rubbed her eyes dry with her sheet, and focused on him. “I guess that was the weirdest phone call you’ve ever gotten, huh?”
Puller looked down. “When I heard the bomb detonate over your open line—”
She reached out and cupped his chin, drawing his gaze back to her. “I’m here, Puller. A little banged up and bloodied. But I’m not dead. Let’s count that as a victory.”
He smiled. “I count it as a lot more than that.”
Their gazes held on one another for a few more moments and then Puller reverted to business mode.
“I spoke to an FBI agent who remembered Adam Reynolds, Susan’s husband.”
“The hit-and-run?” she said.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
He went on to tell her about the rest of his conversation with the agent and then his subsequent meeting with Susan Reynolds’s son, Dan.
That part made Knox try to sit up again, and again, Puller held her back down.
“I know,” he said. “I know. She really is a piece of work.”
“That witch gets her husband killed for some reason. Another man? That’s what Adam Reynolds thought?”
“Apparently so. And she was working in the former Soviet Union.”
“Do we know exactly where?”
“Working on it. But it had to do with the START verification program. She told us that herself.”
“Nuke dismantling.”
“Yep,” she said, not looking at him.
Puller walked out. He had told Knox everything he knew. Now he had to tell someone else.
His brother.
No code.
Face-to-face.