Chapter 54

Deveraux came in thirty minutes later, looking pale and drawn. Death messages are never pleasant. Especially when lightning strikes twice, against a mother who is already angry. But it’s all part of the job. Bereaved relatives are always angry. Why wouldn’t they be?

Deveraux sat down and blew a long sad breath at me.

“Bad?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Terrible,” she said. “She’s not going to vote for me ever again, that’s for sure. I think if I had a house, she’d burn it down. If I had a dog, she’d poison it.”

“Can’t blame her,” I said. “Two for two.”

“It will be three for three soon. That woman is going to take a midnight stroll on the railroad tracks. I guarantee it. Within a week, probably.”

“Has that happened before?”

“Not often. But the train is always there, once a night. Like a reminder that there’s a way out if you need one.”

I said nothing. I wanted to remember the midnight train in a happier context.

She said, “I want to ask you a question, but I’m not going to.”

“What question?”

“Who put those idiots in the woods?”

“Why aren’t you going to ask it?”

“Because I’m assuming there’s a whole bunch of things here, all interconnected. Some big crisis on the base. A part answer wouldn’t make sense. You’d have to tell me everything. And I don’t want to ask you to do that.”

“I couldn’t tell you everything even if I wanted to. I don’t know everything. If I knew everything I wouldn’t be here anymore. The job would be done. I’d be back on post doing the next thing.”

“Are you looking forward to that?”

“Are you fishing?”

“No, I’m just asking. I’ve been there myself, don’t forget. Sooner or later we all hit the moment when the light goes out. I’m wondering if it’s happened to you yet. Or if it’s still to come.”

I said, “No, I don’t really want to get back on post. But that’s mostly because of the sex, not the work.”

She smiled. “So who put those idiots in the woods?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Could have been a number of people. Kelham is a pie the same as any other pie, and there are lots of folks with their fingers in it. Lots of interests, lots of angles. Some of them are professional, and some of them are personal. Maybe five or six of them pass the crazy test. Which means there are five or six different chains of command terminating in five or six very senior officers somewhere. Any one of them could feel threatened in some way bad enough to pull a stunt like this. And any one of them would be quite capable of doing it. You don’t get to be a very senior officer in this man’s army by being a sweet guy.”

“Who are the five or six?”

“I wouldn’t have the faintest idea. That’s not my world. From where they are, I’m just a grunt. I’m indistinguishable from a private first class.”

“But you’re going to nail him.”

“Of course I’m going to nail him.”

“When?”

“Day after tomorrow, I hope. I have to go to D.C. Just for a night, maybe.”

“Why?”

“I got on a line I knew to be tapped and said I knew a name. So now I have to go hang out up there and walk the walk and see what comes out of the woodwork.”

“You made yourself the bait in a trap?”

“It’s like a theory of relativity. Same difference if I go to them or they come to me.”

“Especially when you don’t even know who they are, let alone which one of them is guilty.”

I said nothing.

She said, “I agree. It’s time to shake something loose. If you want to know if the stove is hot, sometimes the only way to find out is to touch it.”

“You must have been a pretty good cop.”

“I still am a pretty good cop.”

“So when did your light go out? With the Marines, I mean. When did you stop enjoying it?”

“About where you are now,” she said. “For years you’ve laughed off the small things, but they come so thick and fast that eventually you realize an avalanche is made up of small things. Snowflakes, right? Things don’t get much smaller than that. Suddenly you realize that small things are big things.”

“No single specific thing?”

“No, I got through fine. I never had any trouble.”

“What, all sixteen years?”

“I had some minor speed bumps here and there. I dated the wrong guy once or twice. But nothing worth talking about. I made it to CWO5, after all, which is as high as it goes for some of us.”

“You did well.”

“Not bad for a country girl from Carter Crossing.”

“Not bad at all.”

She asked, “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning, I guess. It will take me all day to get there.”

“I’ll have Pellegrino drive you to Memphis.”

“No need,” I said.

“Agree for my sake,” she said. “I like to get Pellegrino out of the county as often as possible. Let him wreck his car and kill a pedestrian in some other jurisdiction.”

“Has he done that here?”

“We don’t have pedestrians here. This is a very quiet town. Quieter than ever right now.”

“Because of Kelham?”

“This place is dying, Reacher. We need that base open, and fast.”

“Maybe I’ll make some headway in D.C.”

“I hope you do,” she said. “We should have lunch now.”

“That’s why I came in.”

Deveraux’s lunch staple was chicken pie. We ordered a matched pair and were halfway through eating them when the old couple from the hotel came in. The woman had a book, and the man had a newspaper. A routine pit stop, like dinner. Then the old guy saw me and detoured to our table. He told me my wife’s brother had just called. Something very urgent. I looked blank for a second. The old guy must have thought my wife came from a very large family. “Your brother-in-law Stanley,” he said.

“OK,” I said. “Thanks.”

The old guy shuffled off and I said, “Major Stan Lowrey. A friend of mine. He and I have been TDY at the same place for a couple of weeks.”

Deveraux smiled. “I think the verdict is in. Marines were better comedians.”

I started eating again, but she said, “You should call him back if it’s very urgent, don’t you think?”

I put my fork down.

“Probably,” I said. “But don’t eat my pie.”

I went back to the phone for the third time and dialed. Lowrey answered on the first ring and asked, “Are you sitting down?”

I said, “No, I’m standing up. I’m on a pay phone in a diner.”

“Well, hold on tight. I have a story for you. About a girl called Audrey.”

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