The Forgotten by David Baldacci Page A

sort this out.”
    “Small of my back, belt holster.”
    She moved behind him while her partner took a step back and lined Puller up in his iron sights.
    She gave him a quick but efficient patdown, her hands flitting over his backside, then down and up the insides of his legs. Puller felt his shirt being lifted up. Then she slid the pistol out of the holster and a moment later she stood in front of him, gripping his pistol by the muzzle and pointing it downward.
    She said, “We got a call about a break-in. What are you doing here?”
    “This is my aunt Betsy Simon’s place. I came down here to pay her a visit. No one answered the door, so I went in through the back.”
    “Long way to come, from Virginia,” said the man, with his gun still aimed at Puller’s head.
    Puller didn’t look at him but spoke to the woman. “Can you ask your partner to holster? Accidents can happen.”
    “The cred pack’s legit, Barry, and he’s unarmed now. You can stand down.”
    “John Puller,” said the woman. “And your aunt was Betsy Simon?”
    He nodded. “And you are?” He had glanced at her nametag, but the sun’s glare made it impossible to read.
    “Officer Landry, Cheryl Landry. That’s Officer Barry Hooper.”
    She handed him back his cred pack.
    “Any idea where my aunt is?” asked Puller.
    Landry looked at her partner nervously.
    Puller caught the look. “I saw some interesting things in the backyard. Did something happen back there?”
    “Why do you think that?” she asked suspiciously.
    “Clues around the fountain. And I saw tracks in the grass back there where a gurney had been wheeled in and out. I’m assuming that gurney was carrying someone. Was that someone my aunt?”
    “We were first responders,” said Landry quietly.
    “To what exactly?”
    “The lady who lived here drowned in the little pool back there,” interjected Hooper.
    His partner shot him a reproachful glance and said, “It seemed to be an accident. I’m sorry, Agent Puller.”
    Puller stood there trying to take it all in. In a way, he was not surprised. In another way he was flummoxed. He had been hoping that the victim was someone other than his aunt.
    He asked, “Can you walk me through what happened?”
    Hooper snapped, “We’re responding to a B and E right now andyou’re it. We’re not standing here jawing with you. We should be cuffing you and reading you your rights.”
    Landry looked at him. “He’s right. We don’t know if your aunt was Betsy Simon. And we don’t know what you were doing in her house.”
    “Photo in my shirt pocket. I took it from the house.”
    Landry slid the photo out, looked at it.
    “It’s quite a few years old, but if you saw my aunt I don’t think she’s changed that much. And I look pretty much the same, with a few more lines. And our names are listed on the back.”
    Landry studied the picture and the reverse side and then let Hooper look at it.
    “It’s him, Barry,” said Landry.
    “Still not conclusive to me,” retorted Hooper.
    Puller shrugged and took the photo back. “Okay, so let’s go down to the station and straighten it out. I was heading there anyway after I finished looking around here.”
    “Like I said, the lady fell and drowned in her little pool,” said Hooper. “Accident all the way.”
    “Medical examiner confirm that?”
    Landry said, “Haven’t heard. Autopsy should be done by now.”
    Hooper said, “It was an accident. Lady fell and drowned. We checked the scene out thoroughly.”
    “Yeah, that’s what you keep saying. What, are you trying to convince yourself it’s true?”
    Landry added, “That’s what it looked like all right, Agent Puller. I can understand it’s hard to accept a tragedy like that, but it happens. Especially with older folks.”
    “And Florida has more than most,” added Hooper. “Dropping like flies every minute of every day.”
    Puller turned to look at him and took a step closer to the man to accentuate their differences