Someone was on the bed.
It was not Diego. Or Mateo.
It was Isabel.
And she was naked.
She barely had time to lift the sheet to cover her body.
“Isabel?” said Puller.
She stared back at him, her face a ball of anger. “What the hell is going on, Grif?” she exclaimed, looking over at Mason.
Mason grabbed Puller by the arm and tried to jerk him around, but Puller was so big and strong that Mason merely ended up knocking himself off balance and falling to the floor.
He jumped back up and screamed, “I am going to sue your ass off.”
Puller turned to him. “What is she doing up here?”
“That is none of your damn business,” yelled an apoplectic Mason.
“It is my business,” said Puller. He looked at Isabel. “Are you here voluntarily?”
“Of course I am.”
“Now get your ass out of here,” yelled Mason. “And you better damn well lawyer up. I’m going to own your military pension and every other asset you have, including your aunt’s house.”
“What about the photos of the kids in your wallet?” asked Puller. “The black kid and the Asian?”
“How did you know about them?”
“Who are they?”
“They’re my kids,” exploded Mason.
“What?”
“My ex and I adopted them years ago. They’re both grown now. But I carry their pictures in my wallet from when they were kids. Not that it’s any of your damn business.”
Carson said, “Isabel, how old are you?” “Sixteen,” she replied automatically.
“Isabel, the truth. It’s something we can find out easily, but it’ll be better coming from you.” Isabel hesitated and said, “I’m almost sixteen. In a year and a half.”
Puller looked at Mason in disgust. “You’re in bed with a fourteen-year-old?”
“She told me she was sixteen. Check out her rack. She looks eighteen.”
Puller said to Isabel, “How much is he paying you?”
Mason yelled, “I’m not paying her anything. This is not a prostitution thing.”
“Right. She’s just up here screwing an old fat guy because it’s so much cooler than doing the young bucks.”
“He just gives me things,” said Isabel.
“Like what?” asked Carson.
“Don’t say anything, Isabel,” demanded Mason. “They’re just trying to trick you. I’m calling my lawyer.”
“Stat rape is stat rape, Mason,” noted Puller. “Not much of a defense to that.”
Mason took a step back. “Look, we can work this out. It was just a misunderstanding.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re going down either way, stat rape or not.”
“What?” said Mason, looking confused.
“We busted your scam.”
“What scam?”
Puller looked at Ryon and Ryon looked at Mason.
Puller said, “I caught her with the stolen goods. She ratted you out. And now we know how an estates lawyer can afford an Aston Martin. So maybe
Puller ripped him off her and threw Mason back against the wall.
Ryon slumped to the floor, gasping for breath and looking terrified.
Puller whipped Mason’s hands behind his back and secured them with plasticuffs.
“Okay, we also now have your ass for assault and attempted murder. Thanks for the favor.” “You dumb bitch!” screamed Mason again at the sobbing Ryon.
Carson said, “Yeah, we got it the first time.” Puller grabbed Mason by the neck. “And maybe you help your targets into the grave a little faster so you can cash in, Grif?”
Mason looked at him blankly. “What?”
“Cookie? Floating in a bathtub. You were there. You told Ryon to get over there and take his most valuable watches. Only way that works is if he’s dead.”
“I didn’t kill him.”
“Yeah, right. And what about my aunt? You make her do a header into the fountain? Hold her under?”
“I swear to God I didn’t.”
“We know you were at Cookie’s house,” roared Puller.
“Okay, okay, I was there. For a meeting. I found him dead.”
“Bullshit.”
“He was. That’s why I told Jane to get her ass over there. I wanted to get the watches out before anyone came to the house. Do you know how much they’re worth?”
“Save it for your trial.”
Puller looked back at Isabel. “Get dressed. I’m taking you home. By the way, your
“I have a life to lead.”
“Where are Diego and Mateo?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you know they were missing?”
She stared at him defiantly and then shrugged. “They’ll probably come back.”
“Get dressed,” he said quietly and shut the door.
As they hauled Mason and Ryon outside, Puller’s phone buzzed. He looked at the text that had just come across. His jaw plunged.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What is it?” asked Carson as they loaded Ryon and Mason into the back of the Tahoe and slammed the doors shut.
Puller stared across at her.
“ME finished the post on Cookie. He wasn’t murdered. He died from a popped aneurysm.” Carson said, “So Mason’s not a killer?”
“And he’s not a pedophile.”
“He’s just a scum who steals from old people and beds underage girls.”
Puller sighed and leaned on the top of the Tahoe. “So we’re back to square one.”
“With Diego and Mateo too,” added Carson. “With everything, actually,” said Puller quietly. He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter past one. As he looked at the time something clicked in his brain. It had always been there, he supposed, but until this moment it had not registered.
Carson said, “Puller, what is it?”
Puller didn’t hear her. Part of him couldn’t believe it. Part of him could. But he would have to make sure. He would have to make calls. He would have to dig. He would have to once more become the investigator.
It was about time, he thought. It was about damn time.
CHAPTER 69
Mason and Ryon were in custody with the Paradise Police Department. Puller had given a full report to Bullock, who was burning the midnight oil. It had taken hours to fill him in on everything and then hours more to
