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so important to him back then. He had talked to her about everything, both troubles and triumphs. She had been a wonderful listener. And Puller had come to realize that the advice she dispensed to him growing up had been couched so artfully that it seemed to be his own ideas.
    He had leave time still remaining. No one had expected him back this early. He could not walk away from this.
    Or her. And it wasn’t entirely altruism. A part of Puller wondered whether his aunt could once more help him through troubling times. And not just with his father. He had never really talked about what had happened in West Virginia with anyone, not even his brother. Yet, despite what he’d told his brother, Puller had things he needed to talk about. What he didn’t have was someone he felt comfortable doing that with.
    Maybe his aunt could be that person. Again.
    It looked like he was headed to Paradise.

7
    T HERE WERE MANY AVENUES , it seemed, to get to Paradise. Puller chose a Delta flight connecting through Atlanta that got him into the Northwest Florida Regional Airport four and a half hours after he left Washington. The airport was actually on land owned by the United States government. Eglin Air Force Base was one of the biggest Air Force bases in the world, and one the Army grunt Puller had visited while in Ranger School.
    This part of Florida was on central daylight saving time, so when Puller walked to the Hertz rental car counter he took a few moments to change the time on his watch. It was now ten-thirty hours CDST. He had gained an hour. The temperature was already in the eighties.
    “Welcome to the Emerald Coast,” the woman behind the Hertz counter told him. She was short and stout with frizzy hair dyed brown from its normal gray.
    “I thought the spiel would be ‘Welcome to Paradise,’ ” said Puller.
    She looked up at him and smiled. “Well, that’s about forty minutes or so from here. And I try to mix it up. But I probably say ‘Welcome to Paradise’ about twenty percent of the time.”
    “I guess even Paradise can get a little old.”
    “You want a convertible?” she asked. “Everyone does when they come here. Got a beautiful Corvette that was just turned in.”
    “I don’t know, how much is it?”
    When she said the per diem price he shook his head. “Army doesn’t pay me enough to afford that.”
    “You’re in the Army?”
    “Ever since college.”
    “So is my son. He’s a Ranger.”
    “I was an instructor with the Ranger Training Brigade and then went across the street to the 75th out of Fort Benning for two years before I deployed to the Middle East.
    “Rangers lead the way.”
    “It’s what I’ve always thought despite what the Marines and the SEALs say,” replied Puller.
    She paused. “You still want that Corvette?”
    “Like I said, ma’am, it’s not in my budget.”
    “How much can you afford?”
    Puller told her.
    “Then it
is
in your budget.” She started clicking computer keys.
    “Can you do that?” he asked.
    “I just did,” she replied. “And the GPS is thrown in for no charge.”
    “I appreciate it.”
    “No, I appreciate
you
.”
    The Corvette was a gold color, and Puller pulled out onto the road feeling pretty golden himself. He took Highway 85 south and passed places named Shalimar, Cinco Bayou, and Fort Walton Beach. Then he merged onto the Miracle Strip Parkway, crossed over Okaloosa Island, which was also part of the massive footprint of Eglin AFB, zoomed across a bridge, drove through the town of Destin, continued east, and a short while later arrived in Paradise.
    As he looked around he could see why it was named Paradise. Everything was relatively new, distinctively upscale, and clean, with postcard ocean views. There were high-rise condo buildings right on the water, a picturesque harbor with fishing boats that looked right out of a Hollywood film, chic-looking restaurants, Gucci-level shopping, beautiful women wearing very little, cars that made his