drug business. Any scuttlebutt that he was involved with drugs?”
“Not that I could find out. But that basically means he was never charged with any drug-related crimes. He was clean on our books.”
“Which means he might’ve been smart enough to not get caught. Or his meth business was a recent start-up. Like you said, hard times, trying to stretch the paycheck. And Bitner?”
“She worked in an office at the local Trent Mining and Exploration operation.”
Puller studied her. “So our mining mogul pops up again.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Cole said slowly, not meeting his gaze.
“That a problem?” he asked.
She eyed him coolly. “The way you say it you must think there is.”
“This Trent guy obviously has a lot of local pull.”
“No problems there, Puller, trust me.”
“Good. What did she do in the office?”
“Clerical and some related stuff, as far as I know. We’ll check it out more thoroughly.”
“So they both worked and had a meth lab on the side and lived together to save money and they still lived in a ratty house? Didn’t think the cost of living was that high around here.”
“Yeah, well, neither are the wages.”
Their food came and, ravenous, they plunged into their meals. Puller had two more cups of coffee.
“How are you going to be able to sleep?” asked Cole as he lifted the third cup to his mouth.
“My physiology is a little backwards. The more caffeine I consume the better I sleep.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Actually, the Army just teaches you to sleep when you need it. I’ll need it tonight, so I’ll sleep just fine.”
“Well, I know I can use it too. Only got a couple hours sack time.” She eyed him with a mock angry expression. “Thanks to you, Romeo.”
“Won’t happen again.”
“Famous last words.”
“Are the bodies being transported?”
“Already there.”
“You said Deputy Wellman was married?”
She nodded. “Sheriff Lindemann has been to see Larry’s wife. I’ll go tomorrow. I don’t know Angie that well, but she’ll need as much support as possible. I guess she’s a wreck. I would be.”
“She have family in the area?”
“Larry has. Angie moved here from southwest Virginia.”
“Why?”
She scowled. “I know it seems like people would just be moving out of here, not the other way.”
“Didn’t mean that. And you told me that people were trying to get out. I’m just trying to figure out the landscape.”
“Larry went to community college over in Virginia. It’s not that far as the crow flies. That’s where they met. He came back here and she joined him.”
“What about you?”
She set her glass of iced tea back down. “What about me?”
“I know you have a brother here and your dad’s dead. Anybody else in the area?”
He glanced at her hand. No wedding band. But maybe she didn’t wear one on the job. And maybe she was still on the job.
“Not married,” she said, catching this glance. “Both my parents are dead. My sister lives here too. What about you?”
“I have no family in the area.”
“You know that’s not what I meant, smartass.”
“Father and brother.”
“Are they in the military?”
“They were.”
“So they’re civilians now?”
“You could say that.” Puller put some cash down on the table. “What time do you want to meet tomorrow?”
She stared at the money. “How about 0700 again. Juliet.”
“I’ll be there at 0600. Any chance I can get the Reynoldses’ laptop and briefcase tonight?”
“It’s technically evidence.”
“It technically is. But I can tell you that there are folks back in D.C., and not just the ones in uniform, who are very anxious to have those items back.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. As I alluded to before, I don’t want you inadvertently to do something that’ll get you in trouble later. I can tell you that anything not classified and having to do with the investigation will be turned over to you.”
“As determined by who?”
“The appropriate parties.”
“I’d like to determine that for myself.”
“Fine. Do you have Top Secret or SCI clearance?”
She moved a strand of hair from her face and glowered at him. “I don’t even know what SCI means.”
“Sensitive Compartmented Information. It’s a bitch to get. On top of that the DoD has SAPs, or special access program clearances. Reynolds was fully charged with TS/SCI and SAPs for his compartment and program areas. Consequently, if you try and access the laptop or check the colonel’s briefcase without proper authorization you could be charged with treason. I don’t want that to happen and I know you don’t. I realize all these acronyms probably sound stupid, but people in the government arena take them very seriously. And the consequences of running afoul of these parameters, even by accident, are pretty severe. It’s just a big headache you don’t need, Cole.”
“Strange world you operate in.”
“No disagreement on that.”
All around them the good folks of Drake were shooting curious glances in their direction. Two suits in particular were taking a special interest. As was a table of four beefy guys outfitted in corduroy pants and short-sleeved shirts that showed off their burly arms. One had on a Havoline cap. Another wore a dusty cowboy hat with a sharp crease on the right side. A third quietly drank his beer and studied the air in front of him. The fourth, smaller than the rest, but still weighing in at about two-ten, watched Puller and Cole via a large mirror on the wall.
Cole moved her gaze to look at the cash. “The police station is only—”
“Three minutes from here, like everything else.”
“Actually it’s about eight.”
“Can I get the stuff?”
“Can I trust you?”
“I can’t make that decision for you.”
“So maybe I can.” She put some dollars down to pay for her share of the meal.
“I think my cash covered them both with a tip,” said Puller.
“I don’t like owing people.” She rose. “Let’s go.”
Puller left his money right where it was and followed her out as the town of Drake continued to stare.
CHAPTER
20
THEY WALKED down the street. The few people there stared at Puller and his blue jacket with the gold CID lettering. It didn’t faze him. He was used to being the outsider. He only showed up in towns like this when something bad had happened. Nerves were tight. People were often dead by violent means. A stranger snooping around just added to the misery, the suspicion. Puller could deal with all that, but he also knew there was at least one killer out there, probably more. And something told him they were still here. Maybe a mere three-minute walk away from here, like everything else. Except the police station.
Cole nodded to some of the passersby, and said hello to one old woman using a walker to slowly amble along. The woman said in an admonishing tone, “Young lady, you haven’t been to church in a while.”
“Yes, Mrs. Baffle. I’ll do better.”
“I’ll pray for you, Sam.”
“Thank you. I could use it, I’m sure.”
As the woman shuffled on Puller said, “Small town?”
“With all its thorns and rose petals,” she replied.
They walked some more.
Cole said, “At least we know whoever killed the Reynoldses wasn’t after his military stuff. Or else they would have taken the laptop and briefcase with them. Maybe that rules out the spy angle.”
Puller shook his head. “You can download a laptop’s hard drive onto a flash drive. So you do
n’t have to take the hardware. Did you happen to see if anything was in the briefcase?”
She feigned astonishment. “My God, Puller, and me not having an SCI or an SAP? I wouldn’t think of it. I could be charged with treason.”
“Okay, I deserved that. But did you see anything?”
“It was locked with a combo code. I didn’t want to break into it, so it’s in pristine condition.”
Keeping his gaze straight ahead he said, “Someone’s on our seven. Last three blocks. Twenty meters back.”
Cole kept her gaze straight too. “Could be they’re going in the same direction we are. What do they look like?”
“Older man in a suit. Twenty-something big guy in a cutoff shirt with a tat sleeve down the right arm.”
“Walking together?”
“Appear to be. They were in the restaurant eyeballing us the whole time, but from different tables.”
“Follow me.”
Cole cut to her left and started to cross the street. She let a car pass and took a look in both directions, ostensibly to check for more traffic. She proceeded on and Puller followed. She turned right and kept going in the same direction they had been heading, but on the opposite side of the street.
“Know them?” asked Puller.
“The man in the suit is Bill Strauss.”
“And what does Bill Strauss do?”
“He’s an exec with Trent Exploration. Like the number two guy after Roger.”
“And the beef in the cutoff?”
“His son, Dickie.”
“Dickie?”
“I didn’t name him.”
“And what does Dickie do? Something with Trent Exploration?”
“Not that I know of. He was in the Army for a while.”
“Know where?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“What now?”
“Well, we’re about to find out what they want.”
“Why?”
“They’re catching up to us,” Puller said.
From habit, Puller turned slightly and let his right arm dangle loosely. He lowered his chin, turned his head forty-five degrees to the left, and deployed his peripheral vision. He walked on the balls of his feet, dispersing his weight evenly so he could strike out in any direction with a balanced effectiveness. He wasn’t concerned about the older man. Bill Strauss was in his fifties, flabby, and Puller’s hearing told him the guy was wheezy just from a brisk walk.
Dickie the tat boy was a different story, but Puller wasn’t all that concerned about him either. He was late twenties, an inch over six feet, scaled about two-sixty. Puller noted that he’d gotten fat after leaving the Army, but he’d kept the infantry brush cut and some of the muscle.
“Sergeant Cole?” said Strauss.
They turned, waited.
Strauss and his son walked up to them.
“Hello, Mr. Strauss, what can I do for you?” she asked.
Strauss was about thirty pounds overweight and a sliver under six feet. He wore a Canali pinstripe with a loosened solid blue tie and white dress shirt. His hair was mostly white and longer than his son’s. His face was overly wrinkled, especially around the mouth. His voice was husky and edging toward ravaged. Puller noted the red-and-white pack of Marlboros sticking from his breast coat pocket and the nicotine fingers.
Lung cancer cometh, Mr. Wheezy.
His son’s face was filled out, the cheeks reddened from too much sun. His pecs bulged from too many bench presses, but he’d grown light in the quads, hammies, and the all-important calves from neglecting his lower body. Puller seriously doubted the man could run the Army two-mile in the allotted time. His tat sleeve also caught Puller’s attention.
Strauss said, “I heard about the bodies being found. Molly Bitner worked at my office.”
“That we know.”
“It’s just awful. I can’t believe she was killed. She was a very nice woman.”
“I’m sure she was. Did you know her well?”
“Well, just from the office. She was one of a bunch of gals who worked there, but we never had any issues with her.”
Puller said, “And would you expect to have had issues with her?”
Strauss shifted his gaze to Puller. “I understand you’re with the Army. An investigator?”
Puller nodded but said nothing.
Strauss eyed Cole again. “If you don’t mind my asking, why aren’t you handling the case?”
“I am. It’s a collaborative investigation, Mr. Strauss. One of the victims was in the military. That’s why Agent Puller is here. It’s standard procedure.”
“I see. Of course. I was just wondering.”
“Did she seem normal over the last few days?” asked Puller. “Anything seem to be bothering her?”
Strauss shrugged. “Again, I didn’t have a lot of contact with her. I have my personal secretary and Molly worked out in the main office area.”
“Doing what exactly?”
“Doing whatever was needed around the office, I suppose. We have an office manager, Mrs. Johnson, who could probably answer your inquiries. She would have had more contact with Molly than I would.”
Puller was listening but no longer watching the older man now. His gaze was on the son. Dickie was eyeing his work boots, big hands stuffed in his worn corduroys.
“Heard you were in the Army,” Puller said.
Dickie nodded but didn’t look up.
“What division?”
“First Infantry.”
“Mechanized man. Fort Riley or Germany?”
“Riley. Never been to Germany.”
“How long were you in?”
“One stint.”
“Didn’t like the Army?”
“Army didn’t much like me.”
“BCD or a DD?”
Strauss broke in. “Well, I think we’ve taken up enough of your time. If we can help in any way, Sergeant Cole.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sure we’ll be by your office to talk.”
“Certainly. Let’s go, son.”
Zero Day Page 11
