also operate out of both JBLE and Fort Lee and constitute the CID office for

JBLE,” said Hull. “I toggle back and forth. Prince George’s County isn’t that

far from Tidewater.” Puller nodded. He knew all this. “So what’s in the letter?”

He said this warily because his father had gotten a letter once before, from his

sister in Florida. That had led Puller on a journey to the Sunshine State that

had very nearly cost him his life. “It was addressed to the CID Office at JBLE.

The woman who wrote it is Lynda Demirjian?” Hull said this in an inquiring way,

as though the name would mean something to Puller. “Do you remember her?” “Yes.

From Fort Monroe. When I was a kid.” “She lived near you when your father was

stationed there before it was closed and its operations transferred over to Fort

Eustis. She was a friend of the family. More particularly, she was friends with

your mother.” Puller thought back around thirty years and his memory finally

arrived at a short, plump, pretty-faced woman who was always smiling and who

baked the best cakes Puller could ever remember eating. “Why is she writing to

CID?” “She’s very ill, unfortunately. Final-stage pancreatic cancer.” “I’m

really sorry to hear that.” Puller glanced at the letter.

 

Hull said, “She wrote to the CID because she was dying and she wanted to air

something that she had been feeling for a long time.

 

Almost like a deathbed statement.” “Okay,” said Puller, who was now growing

impatient. “But what does it have to do with me? I was just a kid back then.”

“As was your brother,” said Shorr. “You’re not with the MPs,” said Puller.

 

Shorr shook his head. “But it was decided that some officer heft was required