served under your father.” “I know. He’s not totally unbiased.” “What are you

hoping to get from Rooney?” Knox asked “Whether my mother was going to see him

that night. She was dressed like she would for Mass.” “She might have been going

out.” “She might have been. But if so, she probably would have mentioned it to

the babysitter, and she didn’t. I talked to her too.” “You really haven’t been

letting the grass grow under your feet.” “Not the Army way.” “Your mother might

not have mentioned it if she was going somewhere she didn’t want anyone to know

about.” “Well, she walked wherever she was going all dressed up for everyone to

see. How clandestine could it be?” “I wasn’t necessarily implying that she was

having an affair.” “Sure you were. And trust me, I thought about that scenario,

as much as I didn’t want to. But in the end, I don’t believe she would do that.

A girlfriend would have known. It would have come out. None of the people I

talked to mentioned anything like that. There would have been signs. And my

mother was devoutly religious. Adultery is a mortal sin. I just don’t see it.”

“The way you state the case I think you’re right.” They drove the rest of the

way to Williamsburg in silence.

 

Kelly Adams was Father Rooney’s niece. She had taken him in two years ago. His

sister—Adams’s mother—had lived with her daughter until she had died a few years

back.

 

All of this Adams explained as she was leading Puller and Knox through the

substantial footprint of her home not far from the historic area of

Williamsburg. “Very nice place,” noted Knox. “Your yard is beautiful, everything

in bloom.” “I love it here,” said Adams, a petite woman in her late forties with