Zero Day (16 page)

T
WO COUNTY COP CARS WERE PARKED
, side by side, hood to trunk, outside the two houses. The officers inside the vehicles were chatting when Cole skidded to a stop with Puller right behind in his Malibu. She slid out of the car before it even seemed to have stopped rolling and approached the twin cruisers.

“You two spend all night jawing or actually doing your job?” she snapped.

Puller walked up behind her and noted that the two cops were ones he’d never seen before, which made sense if they were pulling the graveyard shift.

The cops climbed out of their rides and stood at semi-attention, although Puller interpreted far more contempt in their body language than respect for a superior officer. In the Army that situation would have been taken care of in a matter of a few painful minutes, with a months-long penance by the transgressor to follow.

Cole said, “Anything to report?”

Both of them shook their heads. One said, “Saw nothing and heard nothing. Did rounds regularly, but changed up the timing so nobody watching could catch a pattern.”

“Okay.” She pointed to Puller. “This is John Puller from the Army CID. He’s working with us on this case.”

This pair didn’t look any friendlier than the ones had yesterday. That didn’t bother Puller. He hadn’t come here to make buddies with anybody. He nodded at the two but then glanced at Cole. It was her show to run right now, not his.

“You two were at the crime scene on Monday,” said Cole. “Did
either of you notice a package that the mailman might’ve dropped in the house over there?” She pointed to the Halversons’.

They both shook their heads. “Any evidence found gets logged in,” said one of them. “Didn’t see any package.”

The other said, “If it didn’t get logged in, we didn’t find it. But we weren’t the only ones in there. Lan should know if a package turned up,” he added.

Cole snarled, “I should’ve known if a damn package turned up.”

“So maybe there is no package, Sarge,” said the first cop in a calm, even tone.

Puller scrutinized each of them without seeming to do so. Still, he didn’t have a good read on them. He couldn’t tell if their obvious resentment at being ordered around by a woman was also masking something else, like a lie.

He said, “Well, I guess it will turn up or it won’t.”

Both cops looked at him.

Before either of them could speak, Puller said, “So no activity last night? No cars, no people walking? No kids outside playing hide-and-seek?”

“There were cars,” said one cop. “And they all went to their houses and they’re all still there.”

The other said, “A few kids outside. None came near the houses. And nobody was out walking last night. It was hot and muggy and the skeeters were out like you wouldn’t believe.”

Puller looked over at the house where Treadwell and Bitner had been killed. “They have any next of kin that need to be notified?”

Cole said, “We’re checking into that. The Reynoldses had some besides the wife’s parents. We’re in the process of trying to contact them.”

“Army can help you with that. They’ll have info on the colonel’s relatives.”

Cole nodded at her officers. “Okay, your shift is up at eight. You can go back to work.”

The men turned and strode off.

“Attitude like that all the time?” said Puller.

“Well, I basically accused them of either screwing up or
withholding evidence, so I can understand a little attitude. I’d probably be the same. I guess I shouldn’t have gone off like that, but I’m pissed that I missed the damn package.” She glanced up at him. “Mind if I smoke a quick one?”

“I don’t but your lungs will.”

“You think I haven’t tried to quit?”

“My old man smoked for forty years.”

“What got him off?”

“Hypnosis.”

“You’re kidding, really?”

“Surprised me too. I didn’t think stubborn people could be hypnotized. But apparently they’re the most susceptible.”

“You calling me stubborn?”

“I’d rather call you a former smoker.”

“Thanks, Puller. I might just try that.”

“So the next step is checking the evidence log and what else?”

“Lan will be here this morning.” She looked at her watch. “In about an hour or so.”

“And if the package doesn’t turn up?”

“I don’t know, Puller. I just don’t know.”

“Reed said he could maybe find out where it came from back at his office. Check the certified mail records. But maybe you can speed that up officially.”

“Yes, I can. It would be nice to know what was in a package that was worth maybe one of my men being killed.”

He turned and looked at the house. “Were you one of the first responders?”

“No. Two others. Jenkins over there. And Lou, who you met yesterday. The one who talked to the imposter from the Treadwell house.”

“When did you get here?”

“About ninety minutes after the call came in. I was way on the other side of the county.”

“And the dog was still in the house?”

“Yeah. Why? What does the dog have to do with anything? It didn’t bark, I told you that.”

“Well, dogs pick up stuff. They chew stuff. They eat stuff they’re not supposed to.”

Cole looked over at the house, her features stark.

“Let’s go, Puller.”

She started to run.

F
ORTY MINUTES LATER
Puller watched as Cole lifted the edge of the hemming around the sofa the bodies had been on. He handed her a Maglite and she shone it under the piece of furniture.

“Got something,” she said. She pulled out a dog bone and two plastic dog toys.

“Seems to be the mutt’s hiding place,” said Puller. “Anything else?”

She tried to edge farther under the sofa.

“Hang on,” he said. Puller lifted one end four feet into the air. Cole stared up at him from the floor. “Now that’s using your brain. And muscle.”

He looked down. “Bit of cardboard, like from a package.”

“And this!” Cole picked up the bit of green paper off the carpet and stood. Puller set the sofa back down.

She examined the bit of paper and handed it to him.

“Looks like the edge from a certified mail receipt.”

“Yes, it does. Only where’s the rest of it? Do we have to X-ray the dog’s stomach?”

“Or maybe the people who killed Wellman took it. They might’ve figured the dog got the package and hid it somewhere. They looked under the couch and there it was.”

Cole looked puzzled. “But how would they know it was even here?”

“They interrogated the Reynoldses. The colonel might’ve told them they were expecting a package.”

“So why didn’t they just intercept it? They could’ve been in the
house when Reed delivered the package. They could have signed for it. Impersonated them like that guy did with Eric Treadwell across the street. Reed told us he didn’t know any of them. So he wouldn’t have known the difference. He just wanted the piece of paper signed.”

“But what if they didn’t know about the package until later? Until after it was delivered here?”

“I don’t get that at all, Puller.”

He sat down on the edge of the sofa. “Reed said he was at the door because he needed a signature. That means it’s some sort of special mail. But he doesn’t say what happened to the package. Why would that sort of package be coming to the Halversons? They’re retired. Reed remembered it was actually going to the Reynoldses, but he didn’t tell the police that. Only that it was a package requiring a signature. So the killers might have just deduced what we did. Mailman at the door because of a package. What was in the package? They had to find out.”

Puller looked out the window. Lan Monroe was just pulling to a stop in front of the house. “Why don’t we ask Lan what his evidence list shows?”

“Okay. But I’m telling you I don’t think that package is on there.”

“Then we confirm it.”

Five minutes later they had their confirmation. No package.

Lan looked worried as he surveyed the room. “I never saw anything like that.”

“Dog might’ve eaten it,” said Cole, drawing a long look from Puller. “I guess I could have the vet check or do an X-ray.”

“It’s paper, it probably wouldn’t show up, or else the mutt’s already digested it and pooped it out,” replied Puller.

Cole’s phone buzzed. She saw the caller ID and looked surprised.

“Who is it?” asked Puller.

“Roger Trent.”

“Your mining mogul.”

The phone continued to ring.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” said Puller.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

She opened the phone. “Hello?”

She listened, tried to say something, and then listened some more. “That’ll be fine,” she finally said. “See you then.”

She closed the phone.

“Well?” asked Puller.

“Roger Trent wants to see me. At his house.”

“Why?”

“He says he’s been receiving death threats.”

“You better get going.”

“Why don’t you come with me?”

“Why? You want some backup on this?”

“Couldn’t hurt. And I can tell you’re curious about the man. This way you get to see him up close and personal.”

“Let’s go.”

C
OLE AND
P
ULLER
drove to Trent’s home in her cruiser.

She said, “I’m taking a shortcut. Cuts off a chunk of time but it’s bumpy.” She hung a hard right and swung onto a narrow road full of potholes.

It looked familiar to Puller. He gazed around and then saw why this was so.

“What the hell is that thing?” He pointed at the towering concrete dome over and around which trees, vines, and bushes had grown. He’d seen it on his way in here the first night, when he’d gotten lost.

“Folks around here call it the Bunker.”

“Okay, but what is it?”

“Used to be some sort of government facility. It was closed up long before I was even born.”

“But certainly the older folks in town know what it was. Some of them had to work there.”

Cole shook her head. “Nope. No one from Drake ever did work there, at least not that I know of.”

“I know the government is a financial black hole, but even D.C. won’t put up a facility like that and not even use it.”

“Oh, they used it.”

She slowed down and Puller focused on the stretch of houses he’d glimpsed the other night. In daylight the place didn’t look much different than it had at night. The houses were at least five decades old and possibly older. Many looked abandoned, but not all of them. They stretched over a web of streets, row after row.
They reminded him of military housing. Each one looked the same as its neighbor.

“Are you saying they brought in people from outside the area to work the Bunker?”

She nodded. “And they built all those homes to house them.”

“I see there are people living in them still.”

“Only over the last few years. Economy cratered, people lost their jobs and their homes. These places are old and haven’t been kept up, but when you’re on the street you can’t be choosy.”

“Any problems? Desperate folks sometimes do desperate things, especially when they’re in close proximity to each other.”

“We patrol it pretty regularly. What crime there is has been just petty stuff. People mostly stay to themselves. I guess they’re grateful to have a roof over their heads. County tries to help them out. Blankets, food, water, batteries, books for the kids, stuff like that. We’re over here a lot telling them not to use kerosene heaters and crap like that in the houses for heat. And ways to keep themselves safe. Already had one family nearly die from carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“And the government just lets you use the housing?”

“I think the Feds have forgotten it was ever even here. Sort of like the end of that movie,
Raiders of the Lost Ark
. One more box in the warehouse.”

Puller glanced back at the Bunker. “When did it shut down?”

“Don’t know exactly. My mom told me it was sometime in the sixties.”

“And all the workers?”

“Packed up and moved out.”

“And the concrete?”

“My daddy said that was something to see when they did it. It’s three feet thick.”

“Three feet!”

“What my daddy said.”

“And nobody in Drake ever talked to these folks, found out what they were doing in that place?”

“From what I heard, the government supplied the workers with
most of what they needed. And it was all guys, all of them in their forties and single according to my parents. Of course some would come into town on occasion. My dad said they were real tight-lipped about what they did here.”

“If they were in their forties back then, most if not all of them are probably dead by now.”

“Guess so.”

Puller eyed the Bunker and saw the rusted fencing with barbed wire topper that ran around the facility. In between the structure and the neighborhood was a stand of trees. Next, Puller shifted his gaze to a little boy and girl who were playing in the front yard of one of the houses. The boy was running around in a circle while the girl attempted to catch him. They both fell down in a tangle of arms and legs.

“You have kids?”

Puller turned to see her gazing at him. She had slowed the car to a crawl while she too watched the children.

“No,” he replied. “Never married.”

“When I was a little girl only thing I wanted to be was a mom.”

“So what happened?”

She hit the accelerator. “Life. Life happened.”