from him. He didn’t see me but I saw him. And he looked quite upset.” “What time

was this?” “Around two-thirty in the afternoon.” Puller let out a breath. “Why

didn’t you tell the CID agents?” She dropped back onto her pillow and shook her

head. “I told Stan. But he told me I had to have been mistaken. He showed me

your father’s official schedule. It showed he was in Germany for another day. I

guess he convinced me that I was wrong.” She shook her head wearily. “But I knew

I wasn’t wrong. It was your father.” She paused and gasped, “And that’s why I

wrote the letter.” Puller wanted to keep going but he could see that the woman

was quickly tiring. And really, what more could she tell him? His father had

been in town that day. He rose. “I appreciate your meeting with me. I really

do.” Lynda Demirjian put out a hand, which Puller gently took. “I’m sorry it

came to this, John. It just seemed to me to be the right thing to do.” “I

understand. Do you need anything?” She shook her head. “When you get to the

point I’m at, how much do you really need anyway? But I’ve got my faith. So I’m

in a good place.” Puller quietly left the room and walked slowly down the hall.

His spirits didn’t brighten when he reached the sunshine outside. They actually

faded.

 

Fights? Abuse? He and his brother shuttled off to friends so they wouldn’t hear?

His mother leaving his father?

 

It was like he had been listening to someone else’s life. Someone else’s

childhood. This is what his brother must have meant about selective memory. He

and Bobby couldn’t have been shuttled off every time his parents had fought.

That would have been impossible.