Now, technically, he was.

 

Puller took out a notebook and a pen.

 

He needed to get a name from Carol Powers. One of his mother’s friends whom he

could talk to. That might lead to something else.

 

He needed to trace his mother’s movements on the day of her disappearance.

 

He needed to see if there was any truth to the rumor that she was going to leave

her husband.

 

He needed to find out why she was dressed up that night. Was it a date? Was it a

function? If so, CID had been unable to determine what it was.

 

He put his pen down and closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts on the last day

with his mother. The face in the window. The smile.

 

Everything seemed good. That was not the expression of a woman about to abruptly

change her life by walking out on her family.

 

Puller opened his eyes. He had learned that not only did time heal wounds, but

it also played with memories. People often rejiggered memories to match what

they wanted the past to look like, rather than how it actually had been.