HE WAS DEAD.
And he knew she was dead because he had watched her die.
But dead people were not capable of thinking, were they?
Puller slowly lifted his head and looked around.
Tools, shelves, ropes, and the smells of paint, oil, and old food met him head-on.
To his left was Knox, her eyes still closed, but she was breathing.
Puller shook his head clear with difficulty.
How was this possible?
The car. The water. The last breaths.
He had been prepared to die.
He thought he had died.
Then he realized he was tied up.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. He felt the fingers grip and then dig slightly into his skin.
Puller felt the otherworldly strength in those fingers.
He shook his head again and felt that same grip on his arm, pulling him from a car submerged in thirty feet of water.
The hands lifted him up and turned him around so the men were facing each other.
He looked up into the countenance of Paul Rogers, though he only knew the man as Paul.
Rogers’s features were rigid, though Puller could see momentary flashes of pain, represented by grimaces, flit across the man’s features.
“You got us out of the water,” said Puller.
Rogers rubbed the back of his head but said nothing.
“My car went out of control. It was driving itself. Drove us right into the water.”
Rogers continued to rub the back of his head as Knox stirred, her eyelids fluttered and then opened fully. She saw Puller, then Rogers, and then looked down at the ropes binding her.
“Paul saved us,” Puller said.
Knox processed this and nodded. She too could see the look on Rogers’s face and knew that Puller was trying to keep things calm, trying to keep Rogers calm.
“Thank you,” she said.
Rogers moved his hand away from his head and sat there on his haunches.
“You work for her, don’t you?” said Rogers.
“Who?” asked Puller.
Rogers slammed his fist into the side of the van next to Puller’s head and drove a dent three inches deep into the metal. He removed his bleeding hand from the pit he’d created and looked back at Puller.
Knox looked desperately at Puller, but he kept his gaze directly on Rogers.
“We met with a woman named Claire Jericho because she called and told us she wanted to meet.”
Rogers inched closer to Puller so their noses were barely centimeters apart. “Why would she want to meet with you unless you were working for her?”
“To tell us to back off our investigation. And if we didn’t that something bad would happen to us.”
Something occurred to Puller and he glanced at Knox. “They bugged my car. They heard me tell you that I was going to continue the investigation.”
“And they remotely took over the car and ran us right into the channel,” added Knox.
“They tried to kill you?” said Rogers.
Puller said, “Well, I didn’t drive myself into the water to die.”
Rogers sat back against a shelving unit built into the interior wall of the van.
Puller said, “You know Claire Jericho?”
Remaining silent, Rogers nodded.
“From a long time ago?” asked Puller.
Rogers glanced up at him.
Puller said, “I think she also tried to kill you. I mean very recently. At the Grunt.”
Rogers kept his gaze on Puller.
“Those guys who attacked the bar? I don’t see them doing what they did that night unless they were paid to do it. And the only thing worth killing there was you.”
Rogers eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you care?”
“We know about the four women who were killed,” said Knox. “And their bodies buried around this area.”
“Five,” said Rogers. “It was five women, not four.”
Puller went rigid and Knox gave him a nervous glance.
“Five?” said Knox. “But only four bodies were ever discovered.”
“They took her. They took the fifth one.”
“Where was this?” asked Puller.
“Fort Monroe.”
“Who took her?” asked Knox.
“Them! They took her.”
“Did you kill those women?” asked Knox.
Rogers said nothing. He just sat there taking measured breaths, his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him.
“Did you know that her name was Jackie Puller?” asked Knox. “The fifth person that was killed?”
Rogers looked at her from under hooded eyes. “No, it wasn’t.”
Puller stiffened some more and then relaxed. “Then who was it?” he asked. “What was her name?”
“Audrey Moore.”
“Why did you kill her?” asked Puller.
“Who said I did?” Rogers said sharply.
“Assuming that you did, would it have been random?”
Rogers started to rub the spot on his head again.
Puller licked his lips and said, “Do you know what happened to Jackie Puller?”
“She has your last name. Who was she to you?”
“My mother.”
“None of the women were mothers.”
“In my wallet there’s a picture of her from the investigation file. Can you look and tell me if you ever saw her around here?”
“Why do you think I care?”
“Will you just please do it? Please?”
Rogers stared at him for a few moments and then took the damp wallet out and found the picture.
“Do you remember her?” asked Puller.
Rogers put the picture back into the wallet and stuffed it back into Puller’s jacket. “I never saw her. And I would have remembered her.”
Puller gave an imperceptible sigh of relief. “So these other women worked with you?”
Rogers said nothing.
Puller said, “This was three decades ago. Why are you back here now?”
“Unfinished business.”
“Claire Jericho?”
“Unfinished business.”
“We’re not working with her. If anything, we’re working against her.”
“But you’re also looking into the murders of those women.”
“Did you kill them?” Puller asked.
Rogers rose. “I need to decide what to do with you two. But no decision is going to turn out right for you.”
“So you saved us to kill us?” asked Knox. “How does that make sense?”
“You think any of this is supposed to make sense?” Rogers paused. “Was Jericho really in Building Q tonight?”
“Yes,” replied Puller.
“And she tried to kill you?”
“Yes. But I doubt there’s any way we can prove she hacked into my car’s computer.”
Knox said, “What did they do to you, Paul?”
“Why do you give a fuck?” snarled Rogers.
“It’s our job to give a fuck,” barked Puller.
Rogers rubbed the back of his head again. “I…I was the test.”
“The test? For a super soldier thirty years ago?”
Rogers nodded dumbly.
“Was Jericho in charge of the program?” asked Knox.
Rogers shook his head. “Not technically. It was Chris Ballard’s company.”
Knox said, “I know that name, Ballard. He’s retired now.”
“To the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Big mansion on the beach.” Rogers paused and then added, “He’s dead. Or he should be.”
They both looked at him, startled. “Why do you say that?” asked Puller.
“Because I threw him out a window four stories up. But then he came back to life.”
Puller glanced at Knox, who was staring at Rogers, her face drawn in concern.
Rogers saw her look. “I’m not screwed in the head, lady. It couldn’t have been the same guy, of course. But another guy who looked like the one I killed was out on the beach the next day. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”
“Why did you go there? And why did you throw who you thought was Ballard out a window?” asked Puller.
“To get information on Jericho. And when he told me squat I chucked him out the window. He deserved it after what they did to me.”
“Why didn’t you just leave the test program?” asked Knox.
“You think I had that option? I was a prisoner.”