began to talk less and less of her.

 

In his heart Puller felt sure that both his father and his brother believed that

Jacqueline Puller had abandoned them and run off to a new and better life.

 

And that would be better, he thought, than his father’s having killed her.

 

However, she had left no note, taken none of her clothes or other possessions.

She had prepared dinner for them, arranged for a babysitter, and walked out the

door, never to return.

 

As an investigator, Puller knew that when folks planned to leave— and he had

traced several who had done so—they usually left some sort of note. If there

were kids and it was the mother leaving, she invariably took the kids with her.

They also took a suitcase with clothes and other essentials. And they normally

took the car. And they cleaned out bank accounts and maxed out ATM withdrawals.

 

His mother had done none of those things.

 

He believed she was planning to come back that night. But something had

prevented her from doing so.

 

Or someone.

 

He read through the report, word by word, page by page. And then he read it