Zero Day (39 page)

C
OLE WAS WAITING
for him at her house. Puller had made one stop at his motel room and then driven over. She greeted him at the front door and he followed her down the hall to the kitchen.

“You want a drink?” she asked. “I’m having a beer.”

“I’m good,” he said.

They sat in a back room that overlooked the rear yard. It was hot and humid, and Cole’s wall AC wasn’t much better than the one in his motel room. He thought he could taste the coal in the air, feel his skin turning oily black by just being here.

She sat across from him, her fingers curled around the neck of her Michelob.

“While you were following up some leads,” she began, “I checked out Treadwell’s place of business. The only useful piece of info I got from them is that nothing was missing from their inventory. And they had no idea why he would have tungsten carbide residue in his house. They don’t carry anything like that.”

“So it wasn’t work-related?”

“No.”

“I found the answer to the meth lab.”

“What?”

He told her what he’d discovered at the fire station.

“Damn. The Xanadu club dealing meth?”

“Looks to be,” said Puller. “But doesn’t really get us anywhere. And we’re running out of time.”

“What do you mean?”

He told her about his conversation with Joe Mason. About the
pipeline operated by Trent. And the nuclear reactor that was apparently the real target. And finally he told her about Trent’s financial problems.

When he was done, she put her beer down and leaned back in her chair.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” she said. “Jean never told me anything about money problems. And she told you?”

“I think I caught her at a vulnerable moment. And I’m not family. Maybe she just didn’t want you to know. Maybe she was embarrassed that she might be poor again.”

“Are you hungry? I’m suddenly starving.”

“Cole, forget about food. We’ve got less than two—”

She said in a trembling voice, “I need to make sandwiches, Puller. I… I need to do something normal. Or I’m going to lose it. I am. I mean it. I didn’t sign up for something like this. Shit like this is not supposed to happen in places like Drake.”

He said in a soothing tone, “Okay. Okay. How about I help?”

They went to the kitchen and made turkey sandwiches with pickle slices on top and chips as the garnish. They ate standing up at the kitchen sink.

“What are you thinking?” she asked quietly.

Puller took a bite of sandwich and followed it with some chips.

“Shooter knew what he was doing. Rifle was first-class, so was his ammo choice. He picked his position well, executed his shot, and nearly made his escape. I had to hustle to beat him and also bagged some luck in the process. And I’m really good at hunting down shooters in pretty much any environment.” He paused. “And he still almost got away. And his partner was good. Not as good as me, but really good.”

“Modest,” said Cole.

“Realistic,” replied Puller. “Underestimating or overestimating your ability can be fatal. There are guys out there better than me. He just wasn’t one of them.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s assume Dickie, Treadwell, and Molly were in on the meth dealing. I said Dickie struck me as a guy who was stuck between a
rock and a hard place. He was dealing meth, which he obviously wanted to keep secret, but he had also stumbled onto something else that was far worse.”

“You said he was meeting with you tonight? Any idea what he was going to report?”

“No. Maybe nothing. I was the one who called the meeting.”

She popped the fridge and pulled out two bottles of Deer Park. She handed him one.

“A pipeline and a nuclear reactor,” she said. “And we have two days. That’s nuts, Puller. Nuts.”

“It is what it is.”

“You have to call in the heavy artillery.”

“I’ve tried, Cole. The guys upstairs aren’t budging on this.”

“So they’re just hanging us out to dry?”

They stood there facing each other across a few inches, but it seemed to Puller like miles. He had served his country most of his adult life. And serving your country, in essence, meant serving its citizens. People like the woman staring hopelessly at him right now. He had never felt so conflicted in his life.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Cole. I really don’t.”

She said, “Well, there’s one thing I need to do.”

“What’s that?” Puller asked warily.

“I need to tell Bill Strauss he’s lost his son.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, I do.”

They rose and left together.

T
HEY DROVE THERE
in Puller’s Malibu. The night air seemed even more stifling than it had been during the day when the temperature had hovered in the nineties with a matching humidity level. The spray of his headlights picked up swarms of mosquitoes just waiting for victims. A deer leapt out from the woods on the left about fifty feet ahead of them. Puller tapped his brakes. A few seconds later what looked like a small mountain lion exploded from the brush, cleared the asphalt in two bounds, and disappeared into the woods on the other side.

Predators, it seemed, were out in force tonight.

“It was hotter than this in the Middle East, but no humidity. This reminds me more of Florida,” said Puller as he piloted his ride along the curvy back roads that seemed to be the only kind Drake had.

“Never been to Florida,” said Cole. “West Virginia is the only place I’ve ever been. This is my
home
.”

He punched the AC button to max and rubbed a line of sweat off his forehead even as her words stung him.

“Let’s talk it out,” he said.

“This puts me in the mother of all awkward positions, Puller.”

He glanced at her. “I know. You’re an officer of the peace. A public servant. Protect and defend.”

“Right. So what am I supposed to do? Evacuate the county?”

Puller gripped the steering wheel tighter and peered out into the darkness. Cole had been telling him which way to go to get to the Strausses’ home, but apparently they were on a long straightaway,
at least long by local standards, and Cole had obviously seized the opportunity to voice her concerns.

“You can try, I guess. But without more to go on, I’m not sure how effective you’ll be.”

“But if you back me up? And the folks up in D.C.?”

“That won’t be happening,” said Puller bluntly.

“Why the hell not?”

Puller decided to tell her the truth. “They see you guys as an opportunity to write a new page in the playbook and nail some bad guys in the process.”

“You mean we’re guinea pigs?” she snapped.

“Yeah, you’re guinea pigs. The Feds figure if we hit the panic button the bad guys will just pull up stakes and go to another place and do it there.”

“But this is my hometown. I was born here. I know the people. I can’t just wait around for them to be wiped out.”

Puller had been staring at her, but now he looked away.

“Puller? Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

“Yeah, I do. And that means I probably shouldn’t have told you.”

“The hell you shouldn’t have!”

“Bottom line, the Feds are going to do nothing to precipitate this. They want to see it play out. They’ll call in the troops at the last minute. It should be enough time to ensure minimal collateral damage.”

“
Should
be enough time?
Minimal
collateral damage?”

He interrupted her. “But that doesn’t mean that we just have to sit here with our tails tucked between our legs. We can try to solve this sucker before the trigger is pulled.”

“But what if we can’t?”

“It’s the best plan I have.”

“You’re asking me to decide between my country and my people.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything, Cole. I’m just telling you what they told me. I don’t like it any better than you do.”

“So what would you do?”

“I’m a soldier. It’s easy for me. I just follow orders.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it is.”

“So?”

He gripped the wheel so tightly that he could feel it give a little. “So, I don’t know.”

They ate up more ground in silence. She broke it only to give him the final directions to Strauss’s place.

As they neared it she said, “What if I decide to raise the alarm?”

“It’s up to you.”

“You won’t shoot me?”

“It’s up to you,” Puller said again. “And no, I won’t shoot you.” He took a long breath. “In fact, I’ll back you up.”

“You will? Why?”

He looked over to see her staring at him.

“I just will,” said Puller. “Right thing to do. Sometimes the brass forgets about that little detail. Right thing to do,” he said again.

They saw the lights of the Strauss home up ahead. As Puller turned into the driveway he said, “We can get through this if we keep working together.”

She pressed the palms of her hands against the dash, as though trying to slow down runaway thoughts attempting to escape her mind.

He reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re not alone, Sam. I’m right here with you.”

She turned to him. “First time you’ve called me Sam.”

“I’m in the Army. We’re a formal race of people.”

This drew a rare smile from her. She patted his hand.

“I’m good… John.” She looked at him. “Is that okay? That I sometimes call you John? I know that probably sounds silly with everything that’s going on, to worry about something like that.”

“It’s fine. And it’s better than Romeo, I guess.”

“Or Juliet,” she replied.

T
HE
S
TRAUSS HOME
was a little over half the size of the Trents’, which meant it was enormous by Drake standards. And by most American standards, Puller thought. It stood within its own five-acre grounds and even had a little gate out front, though there was no guard here as there was at Trent’s mansion.

Cole had called ahead and roused Strauss and his wife from their beds. The couple was waiting for them when they rang the doorbell. Mrs. Strauss was a large-boned fleshy woman who had taken the time to fix her hair after being awoken in the middle of the night. She wore slacks, a blouse with the bottom untucked, and an expression that was devastated.

Bill Strauss was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. He had an unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers. Perhaps Mrs. Strauss, like Rhonda Dougett, did not allow smoking in her house.

They sat huddled on a couch together while Cole explained what had happened. When she came to the gunshot Bill Strauss looked up.

“So you’re saying someone murdered him? Killed Dickie on purpose?”

Puller said, “I was there. That’s exactly what happened.”

Strauss gazed at him. “You were there? At the firehouse? Why?”

Cole answered. “That’s not relevant, Mr. Strauss.”

“Do you have any leads on the killer?”

“We have better than that,” said Puller. “We have the killer.”

Both Strausses gaped at him. Bill Strauss said, “You caught him? Who is he? Why did he kill our son?”

“We don’t know who he is. And we can’t ask him why he killed Dickie, because he killed himself a few minutes after he shot your son.”

Mrs. Strauss started to weep softly into her hands while her husband slid a hand around her shoulders. When the woman completely broke down and started sobbing uncontrollably a few moments later, her husband led her off down the hall.

Puller and Cole sat there waiting for him to return. Puller rose after a couple of minutes and started looking around the room.

Strauss came back in a minute later. He said, “I’m sorry about that. But I’m sure you can understand how distressed we both are.”

“Absolutely,” said Cole. “We can come back another time, if you’d like. I know this is very difficult.”

Strauss sat back down and shook his head. “No, let’s just get it over with.”

This time he did light up and blew the smoke off to the side.

“We’re trying to find out who the dead man is. If we do, it could help break the case.”

“So you’re sure he’s not from around here?” asked Strauss.

“Don’t think so, but we’ll confirm it.”

“Any reason you can think of why someone would want to harm your son?” asked Cole.

“Not a one. Dickie didn’t have any enemies. He had friends. He had his buddies in the motorcycle club.”

“Where did he work?” asked Puller.

“He… uh, he didn’t currently have a job,” said Strauss.

“Well, where did he last work?”

“There isn’t much work in Drake.”

“Well, there’s Trent Exploration,” said Puller. “And you’re the COO.”

“Certainly. That’s right. But Dickie didn’t want to work at Trent.”

“Why’s that?”

“Just wasn’t something he was interested in.”

“So you supported him?” asked Puller.

“What?” Strauss said distractedly. “We, that is to say, I would give him money from time to time. And he lived at home. He
was our only child. Maybe we spoiled him.” He paused, drawing a sharp breath and with it more nicotine into his lungs. “But he didn’t deserve to be murdered.”

“Of course not,” said Cole.

“If he lived here,” said Puller, “we’ll need to search his room at some point.”

“But not tonight,” said Cole.

“He told me why he was booted from the Army,” Puller said. This comment drew a sharp glance from Strauss.

“It was… unfortunate,” said Strauss.

“The gayness or the booting?” asked Puller.

“Both,” said Strauss frankly. “I’m not a homophobe, Agent Puller. You might think everyone from a small town like this is not very open-minded to such things, but I loved my son.”

“Okay,” said Puller. “He was a good man. He wanted to do the right thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was helping us in our investigation,” said Cole.

“Helping you? How?”

“Just helping us.”

“Do you think that’s why he was killed?”

“I don’t know.”

“My God,” said Strauss. “All these people killed in Drake in just a few days. Do you think they’re connected?”

“We do,” said Cole.

“Why?”

“Can’t get into that,” she said.

Puller sat staring at Strauss for a few moments, debating whether to take a new tack. Finally he decided time was just running out.

“Did you find out about the blasting approvals?”

In a distracted tone Strauss said, “I called the office that handles it. They checked. The foreman for that operation requested the special permit and it was received. But there was a glitch in the public notice. It didn’t go out in time. The foreman didn’t get that information, so he blasted anyway. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.”

“Who would’ve known about the timing of the blast?”

“I knew. The foreman. Lots of people at Trent.”

“Roger Trent?” asked Puller.

“I don’t know for sure, but if he had an interest he could have found out easily enough.”

Cole rose and handed him her card. “You think of anything else, give me a call. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Strauss looked confused at the abrupt end to the interview but rose on unsteady legs. “Thank you, Sergeant Cole.”

Puller was the last to get to his feet. He drew close to Strauss. “A lot of people have died, Mr. Strauss. We don’t want to see any more corpses.”

“Of course not.” His face reddened. “You’re not implying I had anything—”

“No, I’m not implying anything.”

“You think he’s lying, don’t you?” said Cole as they walked back to the car.

“I think he knows more than he was willing to share with us.”

“So he helped get his own son killed? He seemed genuinely torn up about it.”

“Maybe he didn’t intend for his son to be involved in any of this.”

They got into the car and Puller drove away from the Strausses’ home.

Cole looked back through the rear window. “I can’t imagine losing my child.”

“Actually, everyone can imagine it. No one wants to experience it.”

“You ever think about getting married?”

Puller thought,
I am married. My wife is the United States Army. And she can be a real bitch sometimes
.

“I guess everybody thinks about it,” he said. “At some point.”

“It’s hard being a cop and married.”

“People do it all the time.”

“I mean being a female cop and married.”

“People still do it.”

“I guess they do. You know, if you think Strauss is holding something back, I probably shouldn’t have been so quick to postpone searching his son’s room.”

“We’ll get to it, but I doubt Dickie would keep anything of real importance there.”

“Well, where would he keep things of real importance?”

“Maybe the same place Eric Treadwell kept his tungsten carbide.”

“You really think that’s important?”

“It’s important because it’s inexplicable.” He looked at his watch. “Sleepy?”

“No. I feel like somebody hitched me to a live wire. But you should stay at my place tonight.”

“Why? I’ve got a room.”

“Someone also tried to blow you up. Twice.”

“Okay, maybe you’re right.”

They picked up her car and he followed Cole to her house. She showed him to his room and made sure he had everything he needed.

She paused at the door as he sat back on the bed and slipped off his Army boots.

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Why Drake? Just because we have a pipeline and a nuclear reactor nearby?”

“I guess for some folks, that’s all it takes.”

He dropped his second boot on the floor and pulled his forward M11 from its holster.

“You expecting to live your whole life with a gun in your hand?” she asked.

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. Right now it seems like a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah. I’m thinking the same thing.”

“Puller, if we make it out of this alive.” She paused. “Maybe we could…”

He looked up at her. “Yeah, I was thinking that too.”