David Baldacci - Zero Day

“You didn’t seem all that concerned about it this afternoon.”

“My husband is not Mr. Popular. Lots of people hate him.”

“Any you know personally?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you married him.”

She looked at him darkly. “That’s right, I did. So what? And he wasn’t rich back when I did. He was still struggling to build his business. So I didn’t do it for the money.”

“Not saying he was. And not saying you did.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“I’m sure he has lots of other appealing qualities.”

“He does, actually.”

“Good to know.”

“I don’t like your attitude.”

“I don’t have an attitude. I’m just trying to go with the flow.”

“Try harder.”

Cole walked back into the room. “Well, Meghan is far more interested in burning off fat than talking to her aunt.” She stopped speaking when she saw her sister scowling at Puller.

“Everything okay?” she said, glancing at him.

He said, “Everything’s just fine.”

The door opened again.

“Randy?” exclaimed Cole.

Randy Cole had cleaned himself up since Puller had seen him last. He had on freshly laundered jeans, a black T-shirt, and loafers. His hair was neatly combed and he’d shaved.

Sam Cole seemed genuinely surprised but pleased.

Jean looked stunned but not unhappy.

Randy came forward and Cole hugged him. “How are you doing, stranger?” she said in a light tone. Puller assumed she was trying to defuse any possibility of tension.

“I’m doing,” said Randy. He looked over at Puller. “Seen you at Annie’s.”

“Yes, you did.”

“You the Army guy everybody in town’s been talking about?”

“Guess I am.”

“I wanted to join up.”

“Why didn’t you?” asked Puller.

“Failed the physical. Eyes not up to snuff and something in my chest. Probably from breathing all this fresh air my whole life.”

Jean said, “Let’s head in to dinner.”

The dining room was large, paneled in zebra wood with enough moldings, cornices, and medallions to qualify for palace status. They occupied one end of an antique Sheraton table that was long enough to require three pedestals for support.

Randy rubbed his hand over the highly polished wood. “Damn, coal sure pays good, big sister.”

“You’ve never been here before?” asked Puller. He was sitting next to Randy and had noted him looking around in wide-eyed astonishment at the opulent surroundings.

Jean said quickly, “Not for lack of asking. That was why I was surprised to see you tonight. You never came before when I invited you.”

Puller glanced at Randy. The Trents had been married all these years and Randy had not come to their house? Then a possible answer struck him.

“How long have you lived in this house?” he asked Jean.

She kept her gaze on her brother. “Five years. Took that long to build the place. Added a lot of workers to the job rolls, I can tell you that.”

“Yeah,” said Randy. “Hey, sis, why don’t you get your hubby to build a couple more of these? Knock the county unemployment down for sure.”

Jean laughed uneasily. “I think we have all the space we need, Randy.”

“Damn shame,” said Randy.

“But you know there’s a job for you at Trent if you want it,” she said.

“What would that be?” asked Randy. “Vice president? CFO? Chief ass-kisser?”

Cole turned to Puller and said hastily, “Randy and our father worked for Trent Exploration.”

“Doing what?”

“Finding coal,” said Randy. “And we were damn good at it.”

“Yes, you were,” agreed Jean. “They found rich coal seams in the most unlikely places.”

Randy said, “Daddy never went to college. Hell, he barely finished high school. Then the man went into the Navy for a spell. But he knew how to read a geological report. And he knew this country better than anybody. And he taught me all he knew.” He stared at Jean. “And I know it better than anybody now. Even Roger with all his fancy equipment.”

“Which is why it would make perfect sense for you to go back to work for him.”

“You mean to make him even more money?”

Cole said, “Randy, if-”

Randy cut her off by saying, “Hey, can a man get a drink in this place?”

Cole said, “How’d you get here, Randy? Feet or wheels?”

“I won’t be driving drunk, I might stay here overnight. Hey, Jean, you got room for me? I can hang out with the family. Just like old times.”

She said quickly, “Absolutely, Randy. I’d love that.”

“Well, maybe not. I might have something to do in the morning. Or maybe even tonight.”

Puller glanced at Randy, trying to get a read on his pupils. He drew a slow intake of air. No alcohol. He glanced at Cole in time to see her doing the same thing.

Puller said, “You see yourself staying in Drake?”

Randy grinned and shook his head. “Man, I don’t see myself staying anywhere.”

Cole said, “Randy, you’re not making any sense.”

Randy nudged Puller with his elbow. “They think everything has to make sense, Puller. I just don’t get that shit. Do you?”

Puller sensed Randy didn’t expect or even want an answer so he said nothing. He looked around at the two sisters. Then at the brother. What was missing was obvious.

Mom and Dad.

Cole had said they had died.

The house was five years old. Randy had never been here.

He wondered if Mom and Dad had died five years ago.

He looked at Cole again. He started to say something, but it was almost as if Cole could read his mind. Her look was pleading. Puller closed his mouth and looked down at his hands.

The meal was served. There were four courses, and all of them were good. The Trents obviously had not simply a cook but a chef. Puller felt self-conscious as the hired help ladled out the soup and meticulously served every course. But he figured if he’d gotten up and started serving himself it might cause the maids more distress than anything else.

Over an hour later they all pushed back from the table, their bellies full. Randy wiped his mouth one last time with his napkin and finished off his glass of what Puller suspected was a very expensive red wine. When he was a kid his father had taken him and his brother to Provence and Tuscany. While the boys had been too young to drink, even by European standards, their father had taught them about wine. The general had been a connoisseur and collector. It also didn’t hurt that he spoke fluent French and Italian.

“Thanks for the vittles,” said Randy. “You still swimming in the cement pond, Jean? Keep that girlish figure of yours for old Roger?”

An embarrassed Cole glanced at Puller. “Randy, I don’t think you need to play the Beverly Hillbillies act for Agent Puller.”

“Oh, it’s not an act, Agent Puller. I’m clearly white trash that’s got rich relations. But I just refuse to put on airs. Let that be a lesson to you. Never forget where you came from.”

“Should I get a room ready for you, Randy?” asked Jean.

“Changed my mind. Got places to go, people to mess with.”

Cole said, “Would that include people like Roger?”

Randy stared over at her, his smile deepening but also hardening, Puller thought. Still, it was an infectious smile. Puller felt his own lips tug upward.

“Man’s out of town, ain’t he? That’s what I heard.”

“You have sources on his movements?” asked Puller.

“No, I saw his jet fly over Drake earlier.”

“Would that include people like Roger?” Cole asked again.

Puller glanced at Cole. She looked about as tense as Puller had seen her. And that included quite a few stressful situations.