"How did your dad feel about it? He sounds like he was a salt of the earth guy."
"He spent a good part of his life looking for coal. I think he stopped thinking about what it was doing to the planet. If he ever did."
"And Randy?"
"What about him?"
"He looked for coal too. Was apparently good at it. Now he's obviously dropped out of life."
Puller paused. "Was he the source of the earlier death threats against Roger?"
She put the truck in gear. "Got one more thing to show you."
CHAPTER
41
COLE PULLED HER TRUCK to the side of the road about five miles later. She got out, reached behind the seat, and pulled out two construction hard hats. She handed one to Puller. to the side of the road about five miles later. She got out, reached behind the seat, and pulled out two construction hard hats. She handed one to Puller.
"Where are we going that we need these?" he asked.
"To see my parents."
Puller slipped the hat on and followed her. Cole had pulled a powerful flashlight from the bed of her truck and turned it on. They walked through the woods down a gravel path that soon turned to dirt.
"Ordinarily you have to get permission, be certified, and also be escorted for where we're going. But screw that. It's my mom and dad after all."
They left the path and crossed a field, where they were confronted by a chain-link fence. Puller was prepared to scramble over until Cole pointed out the slit in the links.
"You did that?"
"I did that," she replied.
They cleared the fence and kept walking. Cole finally slowed when they reached the edge of the cemetery.
"We're obviously going to see their graves?" said Puller.
She nodded.
"Why all the complications?"
"Trent bought the community and the cemetery was part of it. Technically you have to make an appointment now to see your dead relatives' final resting place. But to tell the truth, Puller, and though I am a sworn officer of the law, that requirement just rubbed me the wrong way."
"I can see that. It would've me too."
She led him around the graves until she stopped at a pair of them and shone her light on the markers.
"Mary and Samuel?"
Cole nodded.
"You were named after him?"
She smiled bitterly. "They thought I was going to be a boy. When I turned out to be a girl they named me Samantha and called me Sam. They didn't think they were going to have any more kids, you see. Randy was a little surprise that came along years later."
Puller read the birth and death dates carved in the marble.
"A boulder? Wrong place, wrong time. Senseless."
Cole didn't say anything right away. When she did her voice was deeper, huskier, like the walls of her throat were closing in.
"Could you give me a minute?"
"Sure."
He walked about fifty feet away and started to examine some of the other graves. The cemetery was in complete disrepair. Headstones toppled, weeds and grass thigh high in places, and everything coated in dust. He had noted, however, that Mary and Samuel Cole's headstones sat straight in the earth and there were fresh flowers on the graves, and the grass had been trimmed away. He assumed that was Cole's doing.
"Hey!"
He whirled around when he heard Cole call out. He was next to her a few seconds later.
"Somebody's over there," she said, pointing to her left.
Puller squinted into the darkness. Cole aimed her light in that direction and did a sweep.
"There!" Cole pointed to the figure of a man fleeing to the east. She held her light steady and kept him in the crosshairs. Her mouth dropped.
"Randy? Randy?" she called in a louder tone.
The man was out of range of the light a few seconds later.
"That was your brother?" asked Puller.
"Yeah. I wonder what he's doing here."
"Maybe the same thing you were. At dinner he said he had places to go and people to see. Maybe he meant coming here." He paused. "You want to go after him?"
"No. Let's just leave."
She drove them back to her house. His Malibu was in the driveway. They got out of the truck.
"You want to come in for some coffee? You said it helps you sleep. Jean's fancy dinner didn't include any. She's more into after-dinner liqueurs or teas with names I can't even pronounce. I just want my coffee Maxwell House black."
Puller really wanted to head back to the motel and get some work done. And he almost said that. But instead he replied, "Thanks. Sounds good."
She made the coffee and poured it out in two mugs. They carried it outside and sat on the swing in the backyard. She took off her heels and rubbed her feet.
"No mosquitoes. I'm surprised," he said.
"I spray," she said. "And one benefit of the mining up here is that the skeeters don't seem to like the coal dust and other by-products any more than we do. Plus they've filled in so many sources of water that it's cut down on the breeding grounds."
They drank their coffee.
"I appreciate you letting me vent tonight about my family."
"No problem with venting. Helps to clear the mind."
"But we have seven homicides and a bombing to solve. And to think just last week the biggest problems I had were drunk and disorderlies, a few moonshine stills, and a burglary involving a microwave and a set of false teeth."
"Part of my brain has been working it all through dinner and right up to now."
"And what does your brain say?"
"That we're making progress."
"How do you know that?"
"Somebody tried to kill us."
"So what next?"
"Keep digging. But I have to go back to D.C. tomorrow."
Her face fell. "What? Why?"
"Reynolds worked for DIA. I've got interviews set up there. Angle I have to cover."
"Can't somebody up there do that? Army must have lots of agents."
"They do. They've just decided not to deploy them on this case."
"I still don't understand."
"It is what it is, Cole. But I'll be back soon."
Her cell phone rang. She answered it. Listened and asked a few questions. Then she clicked off.
"That was Sheriff Lindemann."
"And what did he have to say?"
"He's not happy that his peaceful hamlet is now the scene of murders and bombings."
"I can understand that."
"They put the fire out. The house where you were going to has been abandoned for years. No prints on the letter slipped under your door. The explosive used was dynamite and the ATF guy said the detonators on both devices were professional jobs."
"Good. I hate going up against amateurs. They're too unpredictable."
"I'm glad you can pull some good news from all that."
"So no clues? No leads?"
"Not right now."
"Seems hard to believe that someone could get the necessary elements and set two bombs in a place like this and no one notices."
"Lots of explosives up here, Puller. And lots of people who know how to use them."
He finished his coffee and set the cup down on the arm of the swing. He stood. "I better get going."
"Yeah, I guess you better."
"Thanks for the primer on coal country."
"You're welcome. Still beating yourself up about that trip wire?"
He didn't answer.
"You're a strange man."
"I've been called worse."
"I actually meant it as a compliment."
She looked over at the door to her house and then back at him. "It's late. You can stay the night, if you want." She kept looking at him.
Reading her mind, he said, "You know, sometimes the timing on things really stinks."
She smiled weakly and said, "You're right, it does." She rose, took his cup. "Get going. It's late. What time do you want to meet tomorrow? I'll buy breakfast."
"Let's sleep in. Zero-eight-hundred at the Crib."
She smiled. "Juliet."
"Not time for Romeo yet."
She went up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek, her hand pressing lightly against his chest. "Famous last words again."