"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.
Puller had been cleared to speak to the vice chair. She was Army, a one-star brigadier general named Julie Carson and also Matt Reynolds's direct superior.
Before they entered the woman's office Puller asked Bolling, "What's the book on Carson?"
"You'll have to find out for yourself. I've never met the woman."
A few moments later Puller was seated across from General Carson in her office. Bolling sat in the opposite chair. She was tall, trim, and taciturn. Her blonde hair was cut short and she was outfitted in her dress blues.
"We probably could have done this over the phone," began Carson. "I don't have much to tell you."
"I prefer the face-to-face," replied Puller.
She shrugged. "You CID guys must have more free time than the rest of us." She glanced at Bolling. "I'm sure you're thrilled to be babysitting this guy."
Bolling shrugged. "I go where they tell me, ma'am."
Puller said, "Field grade officer? Murdered. Guy was in charge of J23. Oversaw prep of the briefing book for the J2 and then up the line to the Chairman? Minute the guy was identified as DIA a barrage of memos went up the line to you, ma'am, the J2, the Director of DIA, and on up. Even the SecArm is interested."
She leaned forward. "And your point?"
Puller leaned forward too. "Your casual attitude puzzles me, quite frankly."
"My attitude is not casual. It's just that I don't think I have any information that will be helpful to the investigation."
"Well, let me see if I can change that opinion. What can you tell me about Colonel Reynolds?"
"Our career paths crossed from time to time. We were rank equals until the last few years when I started to hit the fast track. It was ironic that I ended up with the star and he didn't. But he wanted to get out and I wanted the star. He was a good man and a good soldier."
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"Friday before he was found murdered. He was leaving early to go to West Virginia. We had a meeting about a matter he was working on, and then he left. In fact, we met in the conference room across the hall."
"Did he seem disturbed or anxious about anything?"
"No, he seemed perfectly fine."
"You say you two had served together at other places?"
"Yes. Fort Benning, for example."
"Know it well."
"I know you do. I checked your record. And how's your father doing?"
"Fine."
"That's not what I heard."
Puller said nothing. He glanced at Bolling. The man did not seem to know what they were talking about.
Obviously sensing that Puller was not going to react to this, Carson changed subjects. "How did a soldier with your combat record and leadership qualities end up at CID?"
"Why not?"
"Best and the brightest are meant for higher things, Puller. They're meant for command."
"Do the best and the brightest sometimes commit crimes?"
She looked puzzled but said, "I guess."
"Then how are we supposed to catch them if the CID doesn't have some of the best and brightest too?"
"It's not a joke, Puller. If you'd gone the West Point route one day you could be sitting here with a star on your shoulder and more to come."
"Stars get to be real heavy, ma'am. I like to stay light on my feet."
Her lips pursed. "Maybe you aren't cut out for command. Too much of a joker."
"Maybe," said Puller. "But this meeting isn't about my career shortcomings, and I don't want to take up more of your time than is absolutely necessary. As you said, you're busy. What else can you tell me about Reynolds?"
"He was very good at his job. He kept the folks in J23 working like a well-oiled machine. The briefings were strong and the analysis underlying them was spot-on. He was retiring and going into the private sector, which was a loss for the country. He was not involved in anything at DIA that could have led to his murder in West Virginia. That about cover it for you?"
"If he was helping to put the briefings together he was privy to some highly classified and potentially valuable information."
"We have a lot of people here who qualify for that distinction. We've never had any problems in this office regarding personnel. I don't think Reynolds would be the first."
"Money problems? Personal problems? Any motivation to sell out to an enemy?"
"It's not easy to do, Puller. My people are looked at six ways from Sunday. Reynolds had no financial problems. He was as patriotic as they come. He was happily married. His kids were normal and well adjusted. He was a deacon in his church. He was looking forward to retirement and carving out a new career in the private sector. There's nothing there."