Puller’s phone rang. He looked at the screen.

 

It was Knox.

 

Puller hesitated. But if he didn’t answer, he supposed she would just call back

until he did. “Hello?” “Where are you?” she said immediately. “Why?” “Because

all hell broke loose last night in Hampton.” She paused. “What do you know about

that?” “I heard the sirens.” “Don’t lie to me, Puller! I’m staring at a police

report that has you listed as being on the scene and shooting and killing

someone.” “Well, that was quick work on your part.” “So what do you know?” she

persisted.

 

Puller hesitated and looked at his watch. “You have time for some breakfast?”

She didn’t respond at first. “Just like that? After kicking my ass to the curb?”

“We all have to eat.” “Where and when?” He told her.

 

He grabbed a shower, changed his clothes, and drove to the holein-the-wall diner

he’d spotted previously. He didn’t want to do this, because he didn’t fully

trust her. But another part of him realized he needed Knox’s resources if he was

to have any chance of solving this case.

 

Knox was already seated at a booth in the back with a cup of coffee in front of

her. She wore jeans, a black blazer, three-inch boots, and an expression that

could have melted titanium.