Daylight by David Baldacci

Author:David Baldacci
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macmillan

CHAPTER

41

THE NEXT EVENING Pine met Puller outside the Eighth Avenue exit from Penn Station in New York City. He had ridden an Amtrak regional train up from DC, arriving in about three hours. The weather was overcast and chilly as they walked along the street, Puller’s small duffel slung over his shoulder. His dress blues had been exchanged for jeans, a sweater, and a dark blue blazer. As they walked they filled each other in on their respective developments, including Robert Puller’s algorithm netting them Gloria Miles and through her, Jeff Sands.

“So have you told Lineberry that Linda Holden-Bryant was his mole all those years ago?” asked Puller.

“I should, but I haven’t. I’m not exactly sure how to go about it. Plus, he’s still recovering from being shot.”

They grabbed a cab that took them up the West Side to a condo building in the Eighties, near Riverside Drive.

As they passed the top-hatted and uniformed doorman and walked into the soaring marble-and-chrome lobby Puller asked, “What are we doing here?”

“This is where we’re staying. Carol is in the condo now making dinner.”

“Whose condo is it? I usually crash on a friend’s couch when I’m in New York. The CID’s per diem for lodging doesn’t cover anything in the city lodging arena, and that includes sleeping in your car in a parking garage.”

Puller eyed the smiling concierge seated behind a desk that would not have looked out of place at Versailles and added, “And I don’t have to be the world’s greatest detective to deduce that this is also out of the Bureau’s lodging per diem.”

Pine looked uncomfortable. “This . . . this is Jack Lineberry’s pied-à-terre. He generously allowed us to stay here.”

“Weren’t you staying at a hotel in Trenton?”

Pine thumbed the button for the elevator and said, “He called yesterday. I told him I was in New York and he insisted that we stay here.”

“Was this before or after you spoke with his old flame?”

“After. But I didn’t tell him that. He was just being kind.”

They rode the car up to the tenth floor and she led him down a wide, luxuriously carpeted hallway lined with stout wooden doors and paintings that looked original. She used her passkey to enter the apartment. Puller followed, set down his duffel, and looked around.

“Wow, Lineberry is really loaded.”

“Yes. He has his own jet, a mansion in rural Georgia, a penthouse in Atlanta.”

“And this place,” added Puller. “And he’s your father.”

“He’s my biological father, but Tim Pine raised me,” she retorted. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s my father.”

“I get that. But does Lineberry have any other kids?”

“No, he never married. He had me and . . . Mercy.”

“Well, don’t be surprised if he leaves all of this to you.”

Pine looked surprised. “I never even thought about that. And I don’t want it!”

“But he can still leave it to you. And you can do with it what you want.”

“I’ll worry about that if and when it turns out I have to.”

A moment later Blum walked into the room wearing an apron and a smudge of flour on her cheek.

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