Puller heard his brother give a long sigh.
Puller said, "Thought about not telling you."
"As in what does it matter?"
"Something like that. Maybe I shouldn't have told you."
"No, no, you should have, little brother. I appreciate it." He paused. "Working on anything interesting?"
"Yes and no. Yes I am and no I can't tell you about it."
"Well, good luck. My money's on you."
They spoke for another thirty seconds on innocuous matters and said their goodbyes. When Puller clicked off he stared down at his phone imagining his brother being walked back to his cell. Nothing to do but wait for the next day when he would get out of his cage for an hour. Wait for the next phone call from his brother. Or the next visit. Totally out of his control. There wasn't one segment of his life in which he had real input.
I'm all he has left.
I'm all the old man has left.
God help me.
And them.
CHAPTER
58
EARLY THE NEXT MORNING the jet lifted off from Dulles Airport and climbed smoothly into the sky. Puller drank a bottle of water and spent most of the short hop staring out the window. He checked his watch. Nearly 0600. He had tried to sleep some last night, but even his Army training failed him as his mind continued to whir about as fast as the plane's engines. the jet lifted off from Dulles Airport and climbed smoothly into the sky. Puller drank a bottle of water and spent most of the short hop staring out the window. He checked his watch. Nearly 0600. He had tried to sleep some last night, but even his Army training failed him as his mind continued to whir about as fast as the plane's engines.
The plane landed in Charleston less than an hour later and he retrieved his Malibu from the parking lot. He arrived in Drake in time for breakfast. He met Cole at the Crib Room after calling her on the drive in. He drank two more cups of coffee and had the biggest breakfast platter the Crib offered.
She stared over at him as the mounds of food disappeared.
"Don't they feed you in the big city?" she asked.
He took a bite of eggs and pancakes. "Not this trip they didn't. Not sure the last time I ate, actually. Maybe breakfast yesterday."
She sipped on her coffee and tore a bit of toast off and ate it.
"And was your trip productive?"
"It was. We actually have lots to talk about. But just not here."
"Important?"
"Wouldn't waste your time otherwise. Anything on your end?"
"Got the court order faxed." She slid out several sheets of paper. "And I got the results of the soil testing."
Puller put his fork down and eyed the paper. "And?"
"And I'm not a scientist."
"Let me have a look."
She slid the report across.
As he picked it up she said, "The first two pages are legal mumbo-jumbo basically covering their ass if their report is wrong or they did a test incorrectly, or the results ever end up in court they are one hundred percent not liable."
"That's comforting," muttered Puller.
He flipped to the third page and settled in to read. After a minute he said, "I'm not a scientist either, but while I see terms like apatite, rutile, marcasite, galena, sphalerite, and other stuff I've never heard of, I also see uranium, which I definitely recognize."
"Don't get your shorts in a wad. There's coal in fifty-three of the fifty-five counties in West Virginia, and pretty much where you find coal, you find uranium. But the levels of radioactivity are low. People breathe in uranium particles all the time and do just fine. And the level of the parts per million on the uranium shown on that report means it's naturally occurring."
"You're sure about that? You said you weren't a scientist."
"As sure as I am that coal is more a rock than a mineral. Since it's formed from organic remains it technically doesn't qualify as a true mineral. It's actually made up of other minerals."
"Everyone in West Virginia knows this stuff?"
"Well, not everyone, but a lot of folks do. What can you expect from a state whose official mineral is a lump of bituminous coal?"
He sifted through the pages. "Do we even know where these soil samples came from?"
"That's the hell of it; we don't. It could be from anywhere. The report doesn't specify. I guess they assumed Reynolds would know where he'd taken the sample."
"Well, presumably it's somewhere from around Drake, because I don't think Reynolds ventured much outside of here."
Cole played with a packet of sugar, bending it back and forth until it broke and sent the white crystals cascading down. She swept them onto her coffee cup saucer. "Do you think Reynolds was working on something that didn't involve Drake? Maybe these samples are from D.C."
"I don't think so, particularly after what I found out up there."
"So why don't you hurry your butt up and finish eating so we can leave here and you can tell me all about it."
"Okay, but we need to stop by the police station. I have to fax that soil report to a couple of places."
They paid their bill and climbed into her cruiser parked outside. She drove to the police station and Puller faxed off the report to Joe Mason in D.C. and Kristen Craig at USACIL in Georgia.
Back in the cruiser Cole turned to him. She was wearing her uniform, and her gun belt made this maneuver more difficult than it should have been, but she seemed determined to face him.
"So spill it, Puller, and don't leave one thing out."
"You have any security clearances?"
"I already told you that I don't, unless you count the little certificate I got when I was a state trooper, and I doubt that would impress you federal types."
"Duly noted. Now I know that going in, and what I'm about to say is probably classified and my ass could get fried for telling you."
"Duly noted. And they won't find out from me."
He gazed out the window. "Dickie Strauss and his big friend were in the Crib watching us."
"Along with half the town of Drake," added Cole.
"We still need to run down his tat connection with Treadwell."
"Yes, we do. But right now all you need to do is talk."
"Start driving. I'd rather be on the move when I tell you what I'm about to. And head east."
"Why?"
"Because after hearing it, you might want to keep going until you hit the ocean."
CHAPTER
59
IT TOOK P PULLER about an hour, but he brought Cole up to speed on most of what he'd learned while he was in D.C. He did tell her about DHS's interest, but he did about an hour, but he brought Cole up to speed on most of what he'd learned while he was in D.C. He did tell her about DHS's interest, but he did not not tell her that Drake was being used, essentially, as bait for a possible terrorist cell operating in the area. He didn't tell her because Cole would be duty-bound to raise the alarm in her locality. Then it would all be over for Mason and his trying to nail the guys communicating in coded Dari. tell her that Drake was being used, essentially, as bait for a possible terrorist cell operating in the area. He didn't tell her because Cole would be duty-bound to raise the alarm in her locality. Then it would all be over for Mason and his trying to nail the guys communicating in coded Dari.
Still, Puller had been tempted to do just that.
"Would have been nice to know this stuff a long time ago," complained Cole. "They always play these sorts of games up there?"
"It's not a game to them. It's a fence straddle and they're not sure who to trust."
"I'd last five seconds up there. I don't play well with others."
"You might surprise yourself."
"No, I might shoot somebody. So where to?"
"Crime scene. Got an idea I thought of on the plane ride back."
Lan Monroe was just coming out of the Halversons' residence as they pulled up. An evidence kit was banging against his short leg. He threw up his free hand and smiled as they climbed out of the car.
"Welcome back, Puller," he said. "Glad to see D.C. didn't eat you alive."
Puller looked at Cole and said in a low voice, "You always this discreet with info?"
She looked uncomfortable and said to Monroe, "You finished up in there?"
"Yeah. It's all ready to be released."
She nodded and watched him load his gear in his vehicle.
Puller observed the police car parked out in front. He recognized the deputy named Dwayne. As he continued to watch, Dwayne flicked a cigarette butt through the open car window.
"They're not supposed to smoke on duty but Dwayne is trying hard to quit and he's a real bastard without his nicotine pop. I know that better than most-"
She stopped talking because Puller had abruptly walked off.
"Hey," she called out and followed him.
Puller passed between the Halversons' home and the house next to it. He stopped and eyed the deck built onto the back of the neighbor's house. It was made of pressure-treated lumber long since grayed from the sun and elements. He looked from the deck to the nearby woods facing it.
Cole caught up to him.
"What are you doing?"
"Having an epiphany."
"Is this the idea you had on the plane?"
"No, this is the idea I had five seconds ago."
He eyed the thick glass ashtray that rested on one railing of the deck. It was filled with butts. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.
"Who lives in that house?"
"Old couple by the name of Dougett. George and Rhonda, if I remember correctly. I talked to them before when we were canvassing the neighborhood."
"Who's the smoker?"
"He is. When I interviewed them I found out his wife won't let him do it in the house, hence that ashtray on the deck. So what's the big deal about the guy being a smoker? You on a one-person bandwagon to reclaim the souls of all us poor dumb cigarette addicts?"
"No. It's that the ashtray is on a deck that overlooks the woods." He pointed between the two spots.