beside him. “Well, it was worth a shot,” she said. “We may be the only ones who

think that. And now we’re back to square one,” he replied. “We need more

information,” said Knox. “The thing is, if Earl Bristow wasn’t involved in my

mother’s disappearance, who was?” “You don’t think the wife was, do you? Maybe

she was feeding us a bunch of bull. Maybe she wanted to get back with her

husband and was jealous of your mother.” “I checked. She had an alibi for the

time in question. And people I talked to seemed unanimous in their recollection

that Lucy Bristow wanted the divorce.” “So maybe we’re barking up the wrong

tree.” Puller glanced up and down the street they were on. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What?” “Come with me.” He started walking and Knox fell in beside him. “Where

are we going?” “If my mom came to visit Bristow that night she would have come

this way. It’s really the only way to come from our house.” “Okay.” Puller kept

going, his long, purposeful strides eating up ground.

 

Knox, tall as she was, had to hurry to keep up.

 

He stopped when he got to a heavily wooded area, and took a picture of it with

his camera. “What was that for?” asked Knox. “You’ll see.” They rounded a bend

in the road and Puller stopped. “Damn,” exclaimed Knox.

 

Building Q was just up ahead.

 

Knox looked behind her and then back at Building Q. Then she stared up at

Puller. “So you think she passed Building Q on her way to the Bristows’?” “She

had to. And even at that time of night Building Q would have had guards posted