Zero Day (19 page)

O
NE RUSTED
, leaning mailbox.

Puller passed by the mailbox and the dirt road that it fronted.

Woods on both sides.

He was surprised a place like this had an address that could be found on his GPS. Big Brother really did have all the info.

He parked a quarter of a mile down, got out, and entered the woods. He worked his way back west. He eyed the small house from behind a stand of trees. In the distance he could hear the distinct sound of a rattlesnake warning someone of its presence.

Puller didn’t move. He just squatted there, eyeing the place.

There was an old truck out front. The guts of another truck rested on the far side of the house. There appeared to be a garage behind the house. Its single door was closed. The place didn’t look like it had been recently inhabited. It wasn’t dark enough yet for lights to have to be on in the house, though the surrounding woods threw everything into a jumble of shadows.

No sounds. No people.

He continued to squat, continued to contemplate what to do.

It was apparent that someone who lived this far away from the murders probably had not seen anything. But they might know something. Like the note had said.

So the analysis came down to a possible lead or someone looking to do him harm. Either revenge from Dickie and company, or a counterattack from someone looking to derail his investigation.

He had put his phone on vibrate. It did.

He looked at the screen, answered it in a low voice.

“Where are you, Puller?” Cole asked.

“At the address. In the woods to the east of the house. Where are you?”

“West of it in the woods.”

“Great minds. See anything? I’ve got zip over here.”

“No.”

“Do you know who lives in the place?”

“No.”

“There wasn’t a name on the mailbox.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Find out why we’re here.”

“How do you want to do this?”

“How about we keep it simple. I come in from the east and you come in from the west. Stop at the tree line and check back in.”

He put his phone away and moved forward. His M11 was out and pointing the way. He assumed Cole’s Cobra was doing the same to the west.

A minute later his phone vibrated.

“In place,” Cole said. “What now?”

Puller didn’t respond right away. He was taking in what he was looking at grid by grid. The Taliban and al-Qaeda had been very clever about leading American soldiers into traps. They could find ways to make something actually very deadly look entirely innocuous. Children, women, pets.

“Puller?”

“Give me a minute.”

He took a few steps forward. He called out. “Hello? Anybody in there?”

No answer. He hadn’t really expected one.

He took two more steps forward until he was clear of the tree line. But he kept the old truck between him and the house.

He spoke into his phone. “Can you see me?”

“Yes. But just barely.”

“See anything on your side?”

“No. I don’t think this place is lived in. Hell, it looks ready to
fall
in.”

“Ever been down this way?”

“Only going somewhere else. Never even noticed this road before. What do you think is going on?”

“Stay put. I’m going to try something.”

He slipped the phone into his pocket and edged forward until he had a sightline on the front porch. He looked up and then down, side to side. Then he looked down again. From his jacket pocket he pulled a scope that he’d taken from his rucksack.

He looked through it, adjusting the optics until he had a clear look at the front porch. He looked up, down, side to side. And then he came back to the down part.

He slipped out his phone, wedged it against his ear. “Sit tight and keep down.”

“What do you see? What are you going to do?”

“You’ll hear it loud and clear in about five seconds if it is what I think it is.”

“Puller—”

But he’d already put the phone away.

He attached the scope to the top of his M11.

He gave one more look around. “Hello, it’s John Puller. You asked me to come here. I’d like to talk.”

He waited five more seconds. Did they think he was just going to walk right up to the front door?

He lifted his gun and took aim through the scope. His muzzle was pointed at the front-porch floorboards.

He fired three times in rapid succession. Pieces of the decking shot into the air. He heard the ping of metal on metal.

That could only mean one thing. He’d been right. He crouched down.

The front door blew open. The shotgun blast ripped the old fragile wood cleanly. Anyone standing in front of it would have been obliterated.

Anyone being me
, thought Puller.

“Jesus!”

He looked to his left and saw Cole staring first at him, then at the large hole in the front door, and then back at him.

“How’d you know it was booby-trapped?” she called out.

“New floorboards in front of the door. They put the pressure plate under it, ran a wire inside the house, and attached it to the trigger on the shotgun that they mounted on something at gut level. Heard my rounds impact the plate.” He moved away from the truck. “Still can’t figure why they thought I would just mosey up to the door and get my head blown off.”

“I’m just glad you’re smarter than they give you credit for.”

She moved forward too.

Puller saw it and launched. He hit Cole right in the gut, lifting her off the ground. They tumbled back toward the tree line two seconds before the truck detonated. A front wheel landed within six inches of them. Debris crashed down around them. Puller covered Cole with his body. A long strip of rubber landed across the back of his legs. It stung, but did no permanent damage. He would have a welt there, but that was all.

As the flames leapt over the truck, Puller knew he had a second problem. He grabbed Cole by the arm, lifted her over his shoulder, and ran into the woods. A few seconds later, the gas tank exploded, sending a second wave of wreckage sailing in all directions.

Puller set Cole down behind a tree and knelt in the dirt well away from the remains of the truck. He let the debris rain down safely away from them and then peered out from the shield of the tree.

“How did you know?” gasped Cole as she sat up.

“Trip wire stretched between two bushes.”

“Someone obviously wanted you dead. Rigged truck, rigged door. One misses, the other one gets you.” She looked around and shivered. And it wasn’t just because the night air was cooler. “My ears are ringing like a church bell.”

Puller wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the destroyed truck.

“You okay, Puller? Did you get hit?”

He shook his head.

“What then?”

“I should’ve seen that wire long before you hit it.”

“But you saw it in time.”

He looked over at her. “That’s not good enough.”

“I need to call a team in to investigate this,” she said. “And the fire department. If these woods catch on fire, it’ll be a nightmare trying to get under control.”

“There’s a spool of hose up near the house. If there’s still water left in the well, I’ll douse the flames.”

“What if there’re more booby-traps?”

“If I miss the triggers again I deserve what I get.”

“Puller, you didn’t miss anything.”

He ignored this. “Got any bomb specialists on board?”

“Lan Monroe knows something about it. But there’s a retired ATF agent who lives outside of town. I can deputize him.”

“I’d do it. Need as much expertise as possible on this one.”

While Cole called it in, Puller got the hose and sprayed down the wreckage and the flames. Within ten minutes two deputies showed up along with two fire engines. Lan Monroe called and said he was on his way. Cole reached the former ATF agent and arranged for him to come as well.

While the firemen took care of the remaining patches of fire and wetted down the truck remains, Puller got the attention of the deputies and pointed to the house. “I wouldn’t go near that sucker right now. What I’d do is find a motorized robot and send it in before anyone with a heartbeat gets close.”

Cole said, “State police has one of those. I’ll make the call.”

After she did that Puller said, “Well, I think we have a dinner to get to.”

“You still want to go?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You have any clean clothes in your car?”

“Always.”

“Then we can stop by my place and shower. And I can change too. My place is closer to the Trents’ than your motel.”

They walked back to their rides while the investigation team stood as far away from the house and detonated truck as possible.

When they reached the road, Sheriff Pat Lindemann was leaning
against the passenger door of his Ford. He dabbed his face with a handkerchief and spit on the dirt.

“Exciting times in Drake,” he said as they approached.

“Too exciting,” said Cole.

“You saved me having to get a new sergeant, Puller. I owe you for that.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“What counts is what happened,” said Lindemann. He eyed the drive back through the woods. “You’re making somebody uncomfortable. They left you the note at your motel?”

“Slid it under the door when I was taking a shower.”

“So they’re watching you?”

“It appears to be.”

“You two have any idea what in the hell is going on here?”

“Not yet,” said Cole. “But they just made it personal. So every waking moment of my life is going to be devoted to this, Sheriff.”

He nodded, spat again. “Allergies. Never had ’em before.” He eyed Puller. “You want some protection from our department?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. Well, I best get on. The missus is holding supper for me.”

“You take care, Sheriff,” said Cole.

After he drove away Puller said, “You angling for the job? He already seems to have checked out.”

“He’s a good cop. But he’s been doing this over thirty years and I don’t think he ever expected something like this on the tail end of his career.”

As she opened her car door Cole said, “I found out what you did with Louisa over at Annie’s Motel. That was really good of you.”

“She needed help, so I helped. No big deal. How is she?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had a chance to call the hospital. But she’d be dead for sure without you.”

“Do you know her?”

“Everyone knows Louisa. Salt of the earth.”

“It’s nice to help the salts of the earth,” replied Puller quietly. “They usually get the shaft.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to stop beating yourself up about that trip wire, Puller.”

“If I’d done that overseas my entire squad would be dead.”

“But we’re not dead.”

“Right,” he said dully.

Puller got in his car and followed her out.

A
FTER A TWENTY-FIVE-MINUTE RIDE
Cole turned down a street in a neighborhood of older, well-kept homes with wide front porches and nice lawns. She pulled into the driveway of a saltbox that had gray shingle siding, a white picket fence, and colorful landscaping. It looked more New England than West Virginia.

Puller climbed out of his car, got his clean clothes from the trunk, and joined her at the front door.

“Nice place. How long have you lived here?”

“I grew up here.”

“Your parents’ place?”

“I bought it after they died.”

“They died at the same time?”

“That’s right.”

She did not appear willing to supplement this information.

Puller said, “Looks like it belongs on the rocky Maine coast, though.”

“I know. That’s why I like it so much.”

“You a saltwater girl?”

“Maybe I want to be.”

He looked around at the other homes in the neighborhood. “Yours sort of stands out. How come?”

“My dad was in the Navy for a while. Saw the world as a young man. Loved the water. He built this place himself.”

Puller touched the sturdy front porch support post. “Handy guy. So how come he came back here if he was an ocean guy?”

“He’s from West Virginia. He came back home. I have a few calls
to make. You can take the bathroom upstairs. Towels and everything else you need should be in there.”

“Thanks.”

He found the bathroom, started the shower, stripped off his clothes, and stepped under the water. Five minutes later he was dry, dressed, and out of the bathroom. He bumped into Cole, who was coming down the hall dressed in a long terrycloth robe.

“Good God, you’re already done?” she said, staring up at him. In her bare feet he was more than a foot taller than she was.

“You got a thousand guys wanting to take a shower, you can’t linger. Sort of built into my psyche now.”

She said, “I’m not as fast as you, but I won’t be long.”

“You want to use this one since I’m done?”

“No, I’ve got all my stuff downstairs.”

“But isn’t your bedroom up here?”

She snapped, “You have no need to know where my bedroom is, Puller.”

He took a step away from her and looked over her shoulder. “Okay. Mind if I get some water? Getting blown up makes you thirsty.”

“Bottles in the fridge in the kitchen.”

“Tap’s okay with me.”

“Not our tap. Use the bottled stuff.”

Downstairs he split off to go to the kitchen while she went into the bathroom. He heard the water come on, envisioned her stepping into the shower. And then he stopped thinking about that at all. Business, at least his business, never mixed well with anything else.

The kitchen looked like the galley on a ship: functional, nice use of space, neat as a pin. Navy Dad had obviously carried this theme throughout the house.

Both parents had died at the same time. Must’ve been an accident, he thought. But apparently Cole did not want to elaborate. And it was none of his business anyway.

He wrenched open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Deer Park. While he drank it down he looked out onto the backyard.
The grass was cut, the flowers watered. There was a small stone fountain with trickling water. Farther back there was a white garden swing, a fire pit, and a grill under a wooden arbor that was draped with purple-colored vines.

It was all peaceful and soothing and did not match in any way the place he thought Sam Cole would live in. Why, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t really know the woman.

He stepped out onto the back porch and drank some more of his water.

He closed his eyes and thought back to the trip wire. He hadn’t seen it. Not until Cole had almost hit it. And then her shin had grazed it, just enough. By all rights they should have been dead. There had been a delay between the trigger and the detonation. Puller knew why.

The bomber’s relay had been poorly constructed. Or maybe he’d just assumed that if you tripped over the wire, you’d fall. Couple of seconds of confusion. You scramble back up. Then boom, your head’s gone.

In that regard Puller had saved his life and Cole’s. But it hadn’t been good enough. Not nearly good enough.

I’m not what I was
.

I’m not close to what I was
.

Not being over there, your senses get dulled. You’re a step slower
.

He had known the day would come when that would be the case. He’d had no idea, however, how vulnerable it would make him feel. The only solution, really, was to go back over to the Middle East and try to survive.

And I don’t really want to do that. Not after six combat tours, getting shot and blown up and nearly dying more times than I can remember
.

Does that make me a coward?

A few minutes later he was sitting out on the garden swing when she came outside. Before she’d been dressed in slacks and a blouse with flats. Now Cole had on a light blue sundress with a scalloped front and white sandals with an inch heel bump. He liked the dress better than the slacks.

She joined him on the swing and whisked the skirt across her legs as she crossed them. Her hair was still damp and she smelled of jasmine and lilac. She sat back and closed her eyes.

“Shouldn’t we get going?” said Puller.

“I called Jean, told her we’d be a little late.” She rubbed her temples.

“Did you tell her why?”

She looked at him. “No. I didn’t see a good reason to do so.”

“I checked on the certified delivery package at the post office.”

She glanced at him. “How?”

“Just asked some questions.”

“Didn’t want to wait on me?”

“Speed sometimes is crucial. And the post office is only three minutes away from the motel.”

He smiled and she smirked in return. “So tell me what you found out.”

“It was a firm that does soil testing.”

“Why would the Reynoldses be testing soil?”

“I wish I knew.”

“And if the dog didn’t eat the package, that means whoever killed Larry Wellman came back and took it. But, again, how would they even know it was there?”

Puller finished his water and screwed the cap back on. “Like I said, they might have deduced it the same way we did. They realized the mailman found the bodies. Why was that, unless he had a delivery to make at the house that required a signature? That would be the only reason for him to have come into the house. So what was in the package? They came back to find out. Didn’t know what it was, but couldn’t take a chance.”

“But how would they know we hadn’t found it?”

Puller said, “Maybe they’re getting some inside info.”

“I can’t believe I’ve got someone on my police force that’s helping the other side.”

“I’m not saying it’s a fact. I’m just saying you have to consider it.”

“And the bombing?”

“I actually take that as a good sign.”

“Meaning you’re making someone nervous, like the sheriff said?”

“Yes.”

“
If
it is connected to the murders. You ticked Dickie and his big buddy off.”

“You think they’d retaliate by trying to blow me up?”

“No. You’re probably right.” She closed her eyes again and rested her head against the back of the swing. She rubbed her temples again and grimaced.

“I didn’t even ask if you were okay,” he said in a low voice. “I hit you pretty hard.
Are
you okay? No concussion or anything?”

“I’m fine. You knocked the wind out of me, but it was better than the alternative.” She opened her eyes and let her fingers graze his forearm and then remain there. “And I neglected to thank you.”

“The light was poor. Usually you can see the sunlight glinting off it. That’s why the Taliban and al-Qaeda favored pressure plates and other triggers that were belowground.”

“I didn’t see it at all.” She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “Thank you for saving my life, Puller.”

He turned to look at her. He thought that he saw a tear glistening in her right eye, but she looked away before he could be sure.

“You’re welcome.”

She removed her hand from his arm and rose.

“We better get going. I can drive. You leave your ride here. We’ll take my truck. Tired of the police wheels right now.”

He let her walk a bit away from him before she turned back. With the sunset behind her, Sam Cole looked radiant in her dress. Puller took a moment to admire the view.

“Are you coming?”

He rose.

“I’m coming.”