“Sorry about rushing off this morning,” Randy said with a grin.
“No sweat. I think Jean took it pretty hard.”
Randy sat down on the front porch and Puller joined him there.
“Don’t let that act fool you. She’s hard as steel. Harder than all of us. She’s probably forgotten all about it by now.” He rubbed his cheek where she had struck him. “Yep, hard as steel.”
“Guess she has to be, married to a guy like Trent.”
“Got that right.”
“So you pretty much hate the man.”
“He killed my parents.”
“I heard it was an accident.”
“That’s what everybody says.”
“You know different?”
“Damn straight I do.”
“Can you prove it?”
“He owns this place, lock, stock, and barrel. It wouldn’t matter if I had all the proof in the world.”
“Come on, Randy. Your sister’s a cop. And I don’t see her as a big fan of Trent’s. If you had proof, she would work like hell to bring him down. Am I wrong about that?”
Randy looked away and his confident demeanor faded. He rubbed his temples.
“Lot going on up there?” said Puller.
“Lot of nothing but pain.”
“You really need to see a doctor about that.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Have it your way. If there is something wrong the longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Suit yourself. Your parents’ grave markers are the only well-kept ones in the cemetery. Is that your doing or Sam’s?”
“Both.”
“Sam told me a boulder dislodged by a mining blast hit their car?”
Randy nodded and his eyes suddenly glistened. He turned farther away from Puller and rubbed at them.
“They were driving over to Jean’s. Trent was blasting nearby. Stuff come down right on the road.” He paused, collecting himself.
“And they died?” said Puller.
Randy nodded. “Doctor said it would’ve been pretty much instant, so they didn’t suffer. Good thing. It was a while before we found them.”
“Who did find them?”
“I did.”
“You said they were headed to Jean’s? You mean their old place.”
Randy nodded.
“Why were they going there?”
“It was my birthday,” Randy said in a voice so small Puller barely heard it. “Jean was throwing me a party.”
“So they died on your birthday?”
Randy nodded, his head dipping low. “It was a shitty present, I can tell you that. Haven’t celebrated my birthday since.”
“How’d you find them?”
“When they didn’t show up, we tried calling. No answer. Then we split up. Three ways they could have come. And lots of times they close roads up here for work and such, so they never took just one way. We had to cover ’em all. Sam went to one. Jean to another. And I took the third. I took the right one.” He teared up again and this time Puller looked away.
“Where was Roger while all this was happening?”
“Back at the house getting drunk.” He slowly shook his head. “You know what he told me after he found out what had happened?”
“What?”
“ ‘Shit happens.’ The bastard just told me that. ‘Shit happens.’ ”
“I’m sorry, Randy.”
“Yeah,” he said curtly.
Puller looked down. “I can see how that might mess a person up.”
“I’m good.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yeah, I really do. Hell, you can’t pick your family. You just got to deal with the one you have.”
Tell me about it, thought Puller.
“And Jean? How did she take it?”
“She goes her own way. Does her own thing. She keeps busy. She was as broke up as the rest of us. But she’s young and rich and she’s got a lot to live for. Family to take care of. Kids to raise.”
“And how about you? You got a long life ahead of you.”
“You think?”
The way he said it made Puller look at him intently. “You thinking about ending it prematurely? Because if so that would be pretty stupid.”
“Nah, I’m not worth that much grief.”
“You been sending the new death threats to Roger?”
“Didn’t know he was even getting any. How’s your investigating going?”
“Guess the whole town’s talking about it.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“It’s going slow.”
“Hard to figure all those people killed.”
“Did you know Eric Treadwell or Molly Bitner?”
“No, not really.”
“Either you did or you didn’t, Randy, which is it?”
“I knew them to say hello. That was about it.”
“Did you know them well enough to tell me if they were doing drugs? Maybe dealing?”
“No. I didn’t. But I’m not into drugs, so I wouldn’t know. My choice of addiction is beer.” Randy looked over his shoulder at the motel office. “Nice what you did for Louisa.”
“I only did what anybody else should have done.”
“One way to look at it. Sam’s a good cop. She’ll be good helping you on this.”
“She already has.”
“Jean told me about the bomb. You saved Sam’s life.”
“I almost didn’t. I cut it too close.”
“Still a hero in my book. Probably don’t tell her enough, but I’m proud of my sister.”
“Then tell her yourself. Life’s short.”
“Maybe I will.”
“You want back in your family, Randy?”
The other man rose. “I’m not sure, Puller. Just not sure.”
“Well, at some point you have to make that choice.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He turned and walked off the way he’d come.
Puller watched the man go.
Drake, West Virginia, had turned out to be a far more complex place than he had expected.
CHAPTER
49
That afternoon, Puller boarded a commercial jet out of Charleston heading east. He landed at Dulles Airport less than an hour later. He rented a car and checked in at CID headquarters in Quantico to fill in his SAC, Don White. Next, he drove to his apartment and let AWOL out. While the cat was enjoying some fresh air, Puller filled up its food and water dishes and cleaned out the litterbox.
He’d made an appointment with Matthew Reynolds’s superior at DIA for the next afternoon. After six full hours of sleep, he woke, had breakfast, ran five miles, lifted some weights at the gym at Quantico, showered, made some phone calls, and finished up some overdue paperwork.
He dressed in his combat fatigues and drove north to the Pentagon in his rental. A special agent from the DIA Office of Counterintelligence and Security met him at the Pentagon Metro exit and they headed into the Pentagon together. Both men showed their cred packs, announced that they were armed, and were given clearance into the building without an escort.
The DIA agent was named Ryan Bolling. He was a compact five-ten former Marine who’d been with DIA for a decade. He was a civilian now, as were all of the personnel at DIA’s Counterintelligence and Security.
As they walked along Puller said, “Thought you guys would be a little more hot to trot on this case. Feeling lonely out there all by myself.”
“Not my call. I just do what I’m told, Puller.”
They walked along Corridor 10 to A Ring and kept navigating the Pentagon’s complex passageway system until they arrived at the home of the J2. There was a large reception area where the executive assistant and the secretaries sat. On the backside wall was the door to the J2’s office. National colors plus the flag officer’s flag. It was red with two white stars. Puller had been in there once years ago. It was well appointed, with the ubiquitous “I Love Me Wall” that was filled with photos of the flag officer and his famous friends.
The J2 was out of the country. His second in command, the vice chair’s office, was to the left. The red flag held only one star. Off to the right was a small conference room where J2, or the vice chair if the J2 was out, would meet for staff meetings. He would also come here every morning at 5 a.m. to preview the daily briefing he would later give to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.