He drove to the CID offices at Quantico, printed them out, signed them, and

faxed them back to Shireen. Now the legal ball could get rolling.

 

He drove home, threw a few things in to a bag, gunned up with his twin M11s,

snagged an investigation duffel he kept in his apartment, changed the litterbox

and filled the food and water bowls of his cat, AWOL, and hit the highway.

 

When he was on a case Puller always had a battle plan of how he was going to

approach things. Now he had no idea what the hell he was going to do.

 

And if his father was guilty?

 

He shook his head.

 

I can’t deal with that now. I can’t deal with that ever.

 

And yet if it came to it, Puller knew he would have to.

 

Chapter 7

 

PAUL ROGERS HAD risen early and driven across the West Virginia border. He had

stopped for dinner at a Cracker Barrel. There were big buses parked in the lot,

and when he went inside he saw that the place was mostly filled with senior

citizens, perhaps on some sort of tour or pilgrimage.