“And he killed himself,” finished Puller. “The problem is, how do we prove any

of this? We’d need a miracle.” “Maybe I have a way to get one.” He pulled out

his phone and punched in a number.

 

Anne Shepard, the recently fired scientist from Atalanta Group, answered on the

second ring. She did not seem pleased to hear from him. “You promised me that if

I helped you—” she began. “I had nothing to do with your being fired,”

interjected Puller. “That was all Claire Jericho’s doing. I never even talked to

anyone at Atalanta Group. Then she called me in and told me she had fired you.

She must have found out some other way.” “Well, either way, I’m out of a job.”

“Maybe I help you, you help me.” “How?” Puller arranged for them to meet Shepard

at a café in Hampton.

 

She was waiting for them at a back table.

 

He sat down across from her with Knox next to him. They ordered coffees and

Puller plunged right in. “Do you know the owner of the Grunt, Helen Myers?”

“No.” “But you knew Quentin had the room upstairs?” “Well, yeah. I wasn’t the

only one who knew that. He would bring other people from the company there

sometimes. In addition to the ladies.” Knox said, “Did they ever tell you what

went on up there?” She looked at Knox. “I don’t know who you are.” Knox pulled

out her official creds.

 

Shepard’s jaw dropped and she assumed a more contrite expression. “I’m sorry, I

didn’t know.” “Did anyone at Atalanta Group ever talk about what went on up