“So you pretty much hate the man.”
“He killed my parents.”
“I heard it was an accident.”
“That’s what e
verybody says.”
“You know different?”
“Damn straight I do.”
“Can you prove it?”
“He owns this place, lock, stock, and barrel. It wouldn’t matter if I had all the proof in the world.”
“Come on, Randy. Your sister’s a cop. And I don’t see her as a big fan of Trent’s. If you had proof, she would work like hell to bring him down. Am I wrong about that?”
Randy looked away and his confident demeanor faded. He rubbed his temples.
“Lot going on up there?” said Puller.
“Lot of nothing but pain.”
“You really need to see a doctor about that.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Have it your way. If there is something wrong the longer you wait, the worse it’ll be.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Suit yourself. Your parents’ grave markers are the only well-kept ones in the cemetery. Is that your doing or Sam’s?”
“Both.”
“Sam told me a boulder dislodged by a mining blast hit their car?”
Randy nodded and his eyes suddenly glistened. He turned farther away from Puller and rubbed at them.
“They were driving over to Jean’s. Trent was blasting nearby. Stuff come down right on the road.” He paused, collecting himself.
“And they died?” said Puller.
Randy nodded. “Doctor said it would’ve been pretty much instant, so they didn’t suffer. Good thing. It was a while before we found them.”
“Who did find them?”
“I did.”
“You said they were headed to Jean’s? You mean their old place.”
Randy nodded.
“Why were they going there?”
“It was my birthday,” Randy said in a voice so small Puller barely heard it. “Jean was throwing me a party.”
“So they died on your birthday?”
Randy nodded, his head dipping low. “It was a shitty present, I can tell you that. Haven’t celebrated my birthday since.”
“How’d you find them?”
“When they didn’t show up, we tried calling. No answer. Then we split up. Three ways they could have come. And lots of times they close roads up here for work and such, so they never took just one way. We had to cover ’em all. Sam went to one. Jean to another. And I took the third. I took the right one.” He teared up again and this time Puller looked away.
“Where was Roger while all this was happening?”
“Back at the house getting drunk.” He slowly shook his head. “You know what he told me after he found out what had happened?”
“What?”
“ ‘Shit happens.’ The bastard just told me that. ‘Shit happens.’ ”
“I’m sorry, Randy.”
“Yeah,” he said curtly.
Puller looked down. “I can see how that might mess a person up.”
“I’m good.”
“You really believe that?”
“Yeah, I really do. Hell, you can’t pick your family. You just got to deal with the one you have.”
“Well, at some point you have to make that choice.”
“Yeah, I know.”
He turned and walked off the way he’d come.
Puller watched the man go.
Drake, West Virginia, had turned out to be a far more complex place than he had expected.