Every time he had a conversation like this with his father, it seemed to tear a little piece of his reality away. There might come a time when his father called and Puller would actually believe everything the man said. That he was back in the Army, heading up his own corps, that Puller was his XO, or his gunny, or one of his hundred thousand asshole PFCs.
One day. But not tonight.
He turned out the light and closed his eyes.
He needed to sleep, so he did.
But it was a light sleep. Three seconds to wake, aim, and fire at the enemy.
Bombs, bullets, sudden death.
It was as though he'd never left Afghanistan.
CHAPTER
43
BY 0600 P 0600 PULLER WAS UP, showered, shaved, and dressed. showered, shaved, and dressed.
He sat outside on the porch in front of the office and drank a cup of his percolator coffee. No one had broken through the yellow tape he'd strung after Wally Cousins had left.
Eight o'clock at the Crib was eggs, ham, and grits with more coffee. Cole was back in uniform, her femininity buried under polyester, police gear, and regulation black shoes.
"Louisa died yesterday," Puller said.
"I hadn't heard about that," replied Cole, her fork poised halfway to her mouth.
He told her about Wally Cousins's visit to the motel. Cole confirmed that Cousins's grandmother and Louisa were longtime friends.
"I called the hospital this morning and said I was her grandson," he said. "They told me that she died in her sleep."
"Not a bad way to go, I guess."
Better than a boulder crushing your car with you in it, thought Puller.
"She has no family left here, he said. What'll happen to her body? Funeral? And what about her motel?"
"I'll make some calls. We'll take care of it, Puller. Drake isn't what it once was, but we still have good folks here that care, who take care of their own."
"Okay." He took a sip of coffee. "Do folks really have to move that fast around here when someone dies?"
She shrugged. "I won't tell you Cousins was wrong. When folks have nothing they do strange things."
"Like that neighborhood you showed me, next to the concrete dome?"
"I admit some of those folks go scavenging around the area. And sometimes they take things from people who are still alive and kicking. We call that burglary or robbery or grand larceny and they have to pay the price."
"Jail?"
"Sometimes, yeah."
Puller took a bite of eggs. He'd called his SAC back at Quantico and brought him up to speed on all the latest developments. When he'd mentioned the bombing attempt Don White had said, "You've obviously gotten someone excited."
"Yes, sir," Puller had said. But he didn't ask for additional assets. If the SAC wanted to send them, he would. Puller was not going to beg.
He had also arranged to be on a commercial flight out of Charleston later that day. He had to make inquiries at the Pentagon about the late Colonel Matthew Reynolds and he also needed to visit the man's house in Fairfax City. Puller had had hinted that another CID agent back in Virginia could see to this detail as well as he could, but the SAC made it clear that Puller was the entire show right now, at least as far as the U.S. Army was concerned. hinted that another CID agent back in Virginia could see to this detail as well as he could, but the SAC made it clear that Puller was the entire show right now, at least as far as the U.S. Army was concerned.
"How long will you be gone to D.C.?" she asked.
"Not sure. Depends on what I find out. But not longer than a couple of days."
"Any word from your fancy lab in Atlanta?"
"Nothing on the briefcase and laptop. They just got the other items. They're good, but they need some time. I'll check in with them today and fill you in on what if anything they've found out."
"How about that soil testing company in Ohio?"
"They open at zero-nine. So at zero-nine I plan to hit my speed dial."
"They may not tell you much without a court order."
"Maybe not. But we can get a court order."
Cole said nothing. She just drank her coffee and looked around at the other patrons of the Crib.
Puller studied her. "You never answered my question about Randy and the death threats."
"I guess you didn't have to be a world-class detective to figure that one."
"Parents killed by Trent. Probably how Randy sees it. He lashes out at the SOB. So he sent the earlier threats. You investigated and found out the source. You dealt with it and don't want to talk about it further."
"That's a pretty good read."
"Okay, now here's the question. Is he the source of these new threats?"
"Don't think so."
"But you're not absolutely sure?"
"I've been a cop long enough to know that anybody can be violent if given the right motivation."
"You want me to talk to him?"
She shook her head. "Puller, that is not your investigation. You are here for one reason only."
"How do you know it's not connected to what happened to the Reynoldses? And that is my turf."
"How could it be?"
"I don't know. That's why we investigate stuff. Will you let me talk to him?"
"I'll think about it. But I don't even know where he is right now."
"How does he support himself? Other than the money your parents left?"
"He works odd jobs."
"Does Roger think Randy's behind the new threats? Is that why he called you directly?"
"Probably," she admitted.
"When does Trent get back into town?"
"I don't know. I don't keep the man's calendar."
"I think this morning would be a good time to go to the office where Molly Bitner worked and ask some questions."
"You really think there's a connection between them and the Reynoldses? I mean aside from them maybe seeing something."
"That's what we have to find out. But for the record, I don't really believe in coincidences."
They both turned to the plate glass window as a pale silver Mercedes SL600 pulled up in front of the Crib. The top was down and the occupants were clearly revealed.
"Speak of the devil," said Puller. "That's your sister driving and your brother riding shotgun."
CHAPTER
44
AS J JEAN T TRENT AND R RANDY C COLE walked into the Crib, heads at every table turned their way. Jean Trent was dressed in a short dark blue skirt, white sleeveless blouse, and three-inch heels, and her hair, despite the open-top ride in the Benz, looked lovely and her makeup was expertly applied. It was a wave of glamour pouring into the Crib that probably left everyone there, from the working class to the office dwellers, slightly lightheaded. It was as though a movie star had decided to breakfast in Drake, West Virginia. walked into the Crib, heads at every table turned their way. Jean Trent was dressed in a short dark blue skirt, white sleeveless blouse, and three-inch heels, and her hair, despite the open-top ride in the Benz, looked lovely and her makeup was expertly applied. It was a wave of glamour pouring into the Crib that probably left everyone there, from the working class to the office dwellers, slightly lightheaded. It was as though a movie star had decided to breakfast in Drake, West Virginia.
She smiled and waved to folks at various tables. Randy had none of his cocksure manner from the night before. He slouched and studied the floor. He wore dirty jeans, a white T-shirt with an Aerosmith silkscreen, and a lousy attitude on his features.
Puller studied the pair before rising and waving to them.
"Jean? Over here. We have room."
"For Chrissakes, Puller," hissed Cole.
He looked down at her. "You don't want to catch some more family time?"
Jean and Randy headed toward them. Puller got up so Jean could slide into the booth, and then he sat back down. Randy settled in beside his other sister.
Cole said, "Were you at the gravesites last night? Pretty sure I saw you."
"Law against it?" her brother mumbled.
Jean said, "I corralled our wayward brother when I was driving into town. Convinced him a meal with his big sister wasn't a fate worse than death." She eyed him. "And you look like you could use some meat on your bones," she added. "You hardly touched your dinner last night."
"What were you doing at the gravesite?" Cole asked.
"What were you doing there?" he shot back.
"Paying my respects."
"So was I. You got a damn problem with that?"
"Okay. You don't have to get all pissed off."
He looked around. "Can we order some breakfast? I'm hungry." He rubbed his head.
"Headaches again?" asked Puller.
"What's it to you?" Randy snapped.
"Just asking. Maybe some food will help."
Puller raised his hand and waved the waitress over.
After Jean and Randy ordered, Puller lifted his coffee to his lips, took a sip, and set it down. "You really look like you could use a few hours of sack time."
Randy looked across the table at him. "Thanks for your concern."
"No concern. Just an observation. You're a big boy. You can take care of yourself."
"Yeah, well tell that to my sisters here."
"That's what sisters do," said Puller. "Worry. They worry about their brothers. Then when they get married they worry about their husbands."