Diane Capri - Don't Know Jack

Roscoe took a big gulp of liquid courage. “When you mentioned the possibility that Reacher was involved with Sylvia, I’ll admit, you threw me.”

Now we’re getting somewhere .

“And rescuing women like Sylvia is exactly the kind of thing he might do. So I checked your theory out. And it wasn’t him.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know,” Roscoe said, sounding like her daughter.

“You’re clairvoyant? You have a crystal ball? Tarot cards?”

“Have you learned nothing about the man, hot shot? Reacher wouldn’t do any of it.”

“Really? You’re saying Reacher wouldn’t kill anyone? Because twelve people died when he was here fifteen years ago and I’m thinking that was no coincidence.” Kim knew she should have stopped right there even as she barreled on. “Don’t try to sell me that line of bull, Beverly. Makes you look like Bonnie to his Clyde.” Brief pause. Oh, what the hell. “Again.”

Roscoe said, “You know, Kim, even Reacher would hurt you for that remark.”

“Because it’s true?”

“Because it isn’t. You don’t know Jack. At all.”

“So enlighten me.”

“His brother Joe died because of that money. Jack would never profit from Joe’s death like that. He wouldn’t shoot a sleeping enemy instead of taking him face-on. And he’d never spend his time cleaning up like that. Not his style.”

“No?”

“Definitely not.”

“What would he have done, then?”

“If he’d killed Harry for the Kliners, which he didn’t, he’d have destroyed Harry’s place completely. He didn’t blow up the Chevy, either. So don’t even start with that idea.”

“And you know this because?”

The music changed to Chopin's Nocturne #2 and filled the room with discordant peace.

Roscoe seemed to reach a decision. She wiped her face again. She settled her shoulders. She said, “Reacher left here bound for Chicago back then and I’ve never heard from him since. What I wanted to tell you tonight is that it wasn’t him. On the video tape. Springing Sylvia last night. The fake Marshall Wright. Not Jack Reacher. Definitely. Not. Him.”

“Evidence? Facts?” Kim asked. “And don’t tell me you just know, Beverly.”

Roscoe stood, moved to the fireside, turned her back toward the room. “Reacher’s taller. Bigger build. Boxier shoulders. Straighter posture. Longer reach. Deeper voice. Different walk.”

"Maybe he's changed in fifteen years," Kim said.

Roscoe paused again, and turned to face Kim from across the room. She made her next observations in a softer tone, confirming Kim’s instincts about her relationship with Reacher in every respect. She said, “Reacher’s wrists are thicker, and his hands too broad for the gloves in the video. He’s kinder to women. He wouldn’t grab Sylvia’s arm or push her into the car like that. He displays more finesse. He’s much smarter. It radiates off of him. And he’s a very cautious guy. If he had collected Sylvia Black from our jail, no evidence would ever connect him to the escape, just as there’s no evidence he was ever here fifteen years ago. Simply put, if Reacher had been here that night, we’d have no video to analyze.”

Kim was quiet for a spell. She’d made too many assumptions. The assumptions had led to false starts and wasted time. She didn’t know Jack Reacher, and the not knowing frightened her more than anything else. But Roscoe had known Jack Reacher in every conceivable way back then. That was clear. So unless he’d changed more than a man is capable of changing, Roscoe was right.

Dammit .

“So who was the guy on the tape?” Kim asked.

“You tell me.”

“I would if I could,” Kim said. Then she heard Gaspar coming down the stairs.

Margrave, Georgia

November 3

2:15 a.m.

Gaspar dropped his bags on the hallway floor and stepped into the room fully dressed, wide awake, and ready to go. “Our flight leaves Atlanta in ninety-five minutes. We’ve got to run. What’s the best route outta here, chief?”

Roscoe said, “You can’t leave. GHP wants to talk to you.”

“They can send me an e-mail. Or kiss my ass. My badge is shinier than theirs.” He moved into the kitchen, located the coffee pot, loaded grounds and water. He pulled out mugs and rooted around for sugar and milk as if he was competing for speed records. Way too much energy. Kim closed her eyes.

“Hey there, Sunshine,” he called. “You might want to put some clothes on. It’s a little chilly out there for pajamas.”

When she didn’t move, he said, “Get in the shower. Wake up. I’ll pop a coffee in for you when it’s finished. Come on. Shake and bake. Hubba hubba. Got to move it.” Talking a mile a minute. Maybe he had located more amphetamines.

He said, “Before we leave, Chief Roscoe, I need you to answer a couple of questions about bringing down the Kliner Foundation. I read the transcripts. Several times. Couple open issues in my head.”

“Such as?”

“Your testimony covered the highlights. I need to know the things you left out. Reacher was the heavy lifter, but how, exactly, did he do it? Forewarned and forearmed and all that. And tell me what happened after. Especially after old man Teale died. The mayor now is what? His kid?”

Kim believed in preparation. It had saved her life more than once. She tried to concentrate.

Roscoe said, “We answered everything relevant back then. Testimony took weeks. Every state and federal agency you can imagine got involved, and even a couple of foreign governments.”

Kim didn’t believe she'd answered everything; Gaspar wouldn’t either.

“And afterward?” Gaspar asked.

“Nothing afterward. By the time the whole mess was sorted out, Reacher was long gone. I ran for mayor and lost to Junior Teale. He never forgave me. We all went back to the way we’d lived before.” She shrugged. “The human condition, I guess. Hard to break the bonds of inertia.”

“Not everybody went back, obviously,” Gaspar said. “Otherwise, Harry Black couldn’t have accumulated those Kliners.”

The coffee was done. He poured a big mug of strong black energy sufficient to run a small train and carried it across the room. Waved it under Kim’s nose like smelling salts. She reached up; he pulled away like pulling a puppet string.

Enticed to her feet, he rewarded her with the mug, pointed her toward the guest bath and lightly shoved between her shoulder blades. “Get going. You don’t want me to come in there with you, but I will if that’s what it takes.”

She wrinkled her nose at him and moved slowly out of reach. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Batista. Just try it. See what happens.”

He grinned, nodded. “That’s the spirit. I’m leaving in fifteen minutes. If you’re not ready, I’ll come in there and get you.”

“You and what army?”

As if she’d dashed away at his request, he simply picked up with Roscoe where he’d left off while he mixed coffee for himself “Lotta cops killed during the Kliner fiasco, too. Nobody prosecuted. No way to make that happen unless deals were made, even if Reacher was long gone.”

Roscoe said, “Above my pay grade.”

Liar , Kim figured as she walked away. Roscoe was too far down the chain of command to have been involved, but she’d have known what happened. Everybody would.

Gaspar let it go. “Was Harry working with Margrave PD during the Kliner days? Could he have been on the inside, gotten hold of the fakes back then?”

Roscoe said, “He was a cadet over in Calhoon county.”

“But?” Kim called from the hallway.

Roscoe’s thoughts seemed years away. “Reacher said at the time, the only safe thing is to assume everybody is involved.”