The Affair

Chapter 15

In the end I found most of the car about two hundred yards north. It was preceded by a debris field that stretched most of the intervening distance. There were pebbles of broken windshield glass, glistening and glinting in the dew and the moonlight. The glass had been flung along random curved trajectories, as if by a giant hand. There was a chrome bumper, torn off and folded capriciously in half, a tight V, like a drinking straw. It had embedded itself in the ground, like a lawn dart. There was a wheel with no hub cap. The impact had been colossal. The car had been smashed forward like a baseball off a tee. Zero to sixty, instantaneously.

I guessed it had been parked on the track about twenty yards north of the water tower. That was where the first of the glass was located. The locomotive had hit the car, and it had flown fifty or more yards through the air, and then it had landed and cartwheeled. Maybe wheels to roof to wheels to roof, or end over end. I guessed the initial impact had more or less disassembled it. Like an explosion. Then the rolling action had flung its constituent parts all over the place. Including its fuel, which had ignited. There were narrow black tongues of burned scrub all over the last fifty yards, and what was left of the vehicle itself was nested against the trees in the epicenter of a starburst of blackened trunks and branches. Arson investigators I had met could have worked out its rate of rotation from the fuel splatter alone.

Pellegrino had seen the car in daylight and called it blue. In the moonlight it looked ash gray to me. I couldn’t find an intact painted surface. I couldn’t find an intact anything larger than a square inch. It was a burned-out mess, crushed and crumpled to the point of being virtually unrecognizable. I was prepared to accept it was a car, but only because I couldn’t imagine what else it could be.

If someone’s intention had been to conceal evidence, then that someone had succeeded, big time, and comprehensively.

I got back to the hotel at one o’clock exactly, and went straight to bed. I set the alarm in my head for seven in the morning, which was when I figured Deveraux would be getting up for work. I figured her day would start at eight. Clearly she was not neglectful of her appearance, but she was a Marine and a pragmatic person, so she wouldn’t budget more than an hour to get ready. I figured I could match her shower time with my own, and then I could find her in the diner for breakfast. Which was as far ahead as my planning extended. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to her.

But I didn’t sleep until seven in the morning. I was woken up at six. By someone knocking loudly on my door. I wasn’t thrilled. I rolled out of bed and pulled on my pants and opened up. It was the old guy. The hotel keeper.

He said, “Mr. Reacher?”

I said, “Yes?”

He said, “Good. I’m glad I got the right person. At this hour, I mean. It’s always better to be sure.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, initially, as I said, I’m confirming who you are.”

“I sincerely hope there’s more to it than that. At this hour. You only have two guests. And the other one isn’t mister anything.”

“You have a phone call.”

“Who from?”

“Your uncle.”

“My uncle?”

“Your uncle Leon Garber. He said it was urgent. And judging by his tone, it’s important, too.”

I put my T-shirt on and followed the guy downstairs, barefoot. He led me through a side door into the office behind the counter. There was a worn mahogany desk with a phone on it. The handset was off the hook, resting on the desk top.

The old guy said, “Please make yourself at home,” and left, and closed the door on me. I sat down in his chair and picked up the phone.

I said, “What?”

Garber said, “You OK?”

“I’m fine. How did you find me?”

“Phone book. There’s only one hotel in Carter Crossing. Everything going well?”

“Terrific.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Because you’re supposed to check in every morning at six.”

“Am I?”

“That’s what we agreed.”

“When?”

“We spoke yesterday at six. As you were leaving.”

“I know,” I said. “I remember. But we didn’t agree we’d talk at six every day.”

“You called me yesterday. At dinner time. You said you would call again today.”

“I didn’t specify the time.”

“I think you did.”

“Well, you’re wrong, you old coot. What do you want?”

“You’re cranky this morning.”

“I was up late last night.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking around.”

“And?”

“There are a couple of things,” I said.

“Like what?”

“Just two specific items. Matters of interest.”

“Do they represent progress?”

“At this point they’re just questions. The answers might represent progress, eventually. If I ever get them.”

Garber said, “Munro is getting nowhere at Kelham. Not so far. This whole thing might be more complicated than we thought.”

I didn’t answer that. Garber was quiet for a beat.

“Wait,” he said. “What do you mean, if you ever get the answers?”

I didn’t answer.

Garber said, “And why were you looking around in the dark? Wouldn’t it have been better to wait for first light?”

I said, “I met the chief here.”

“And?”

“Different from what you might expect.”

“How?” Garber asked. “Is he honest?”

“He’s a she,” I said. “Her father was sheriff before her.”

Garber paused again.

“Don’t tell me,” he said. “She figured you out.”

I didn’t answer.

“Christ on a bike,” he said. “This has got to be a new world record. How long did it take her? Ten minutes? Five?”

“She was a Marine MP,” I said. “One of us, practically. She knew all along. She was expecting me. To her it was a predictable move.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is she going to shut you out?”

“Worse. She wants to throw me out.”

“Well, you can’t let her do that. No way. You have to stay there. That’s for damn sure. In fact, I’m ordering you not to come back. You hear me? Your orders are to stay. She can’t throw you out anyway. It’s a question of civil rights. The First Amendment, or something. Free association. Mississippi is part of the Union, same as anywhere else. It’s a free country. So stay there, OK?”

I hung up with Garber and sat in the little office for a moment. I found a dollar bill in my pocket and left it on the desk, to cover the cost of an outgoing call, and I dialed the Pentagon. The Pentagon has a lot of numbers and a lot of operators, and I chose one that always answered. I asked the guy to try John James Frazer’s billet, just on the off chance. The Senate Liaison guy. I wasn’t expecting him to be there not long after six in the morning, but he was. Which told me something. I introduced myself and told him I had no news.

“You must have something,” he said. “Or you wouldn’t have called.”

“I have a warning,” I said.

“What kind?”

“I’ve seen a couple of things, and they’re enough to tell me this situation is going to turn out bad. It’s going to turn out sick and weird and it’s going to be all over every newspaper for a month. Even if it’s nothing to do with Kelham, we could end up tainted. Just because of the proximity.”

Frazer paused. “How sick?”

“Potentially very sick.”

“Gut feeling? Is it anything to do with Kelham?”

“Too early to say.”

“Help me out here, Reacher. Best guess?”

“At this stage, I’d say no. No military involvement.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“It’s only a guess,” I said. “Don’t break out the cigars just yet.”

I didn’t go back to bed. No point. Too late. I just brushed my teeth and showered and chewed some gum and got fully dressed. Then I stood by my window and watched the dawn. The creeping daylight enlarged the world. I saw Main Street in all its detailed glory. I saw scrub and fields and forest extending in every direction.

Then I sat in my chair to wait. I figured I would hear Deveraux go out to her car. I was more or less right above where it was parked at the curb.