He turned and strolled back the way he had come, past one of the lit-up windows, and then he more or less bumped into a guy coming out of a room marked 14. The guy was a lean, hardscrabble type, of medium height, not young but not yet ancient, with a lined and seamed face like he spent all his time outside in the weather.
A farm worker, about fifty.
The guy smiled like he had a shared secret and said, 'Hi.'
Reacher said, 'You're the eyewitness.'
The guy said, 'The what?'
Not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Reacher said, 'You saw the red car.'
'Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't. But we're not allowed to talk about any of that. Not even to each other. Didn't they tell you?'
The guy was wearing new blue jeans, and a new blue button-down shirt under a new blue cotton sweater. Exactly like the clothes on Reacher's bed, but smaller. His hair was clean and brushed. He had a fresh shave. He looked like a guy on vacation.
Reacher asked him, 'When did you get here?'
The guy said, 'Early this morning.'
'With Dawson and Mitchell, or with someone else?'
'I didn't get their names. And we're not allowed to talk about it, anyway. Didn't they tell you?'
'Who's supposed to tell me?'
'Didn't you get a visit?'
'Not yet.'
'When did you get here?'
'Just now. A few minutes ago.'
'They'll come pretty soon, then. They'll come to your room and they'll tell you the rules.' The guy shuffled in place on the path. Like he was impatient about something. Like he had somewhere else to be.
Reacher asked him, 'Where are you going now?'
The guy said, 'To the dining room, man. Where else? They got beer there. A whole bunch of different brands. Long neck bottles, good and cold. I mean, no work all day and free food and free beer? Does it get any better than that?'
Reacher said nothing.
The guy said, 'You coming?'
'Later, maybe.'
'No rush,' the guy said. 'I'm planning to snag a few, but they got plenty. They ain't going to run out any time soon. You can trust me on that.' And then he hustled onward along the winding path, at first all lit up from the waist down by the fingerpost spotlights, and then eventually out of sight.
Reacher stayed where he was. Room fourteen. One of the two lit-up rooms without a Bureau car parked nearby. The other was room five. He turned around and backtracked, all the way past the six-through-ten block, around a flowerbed, across the gap to the next block, to the first door in line. Room five. He was planning to knock, but he didn't need to. When he was still six feet away the door burst open and a girl ran out, all arms and legs and energy. A thin kid, dark-haired and pale, maybe ten years old, all jacked up on excitement, and smiling wide. Then she saw Reacher's giant bulk in the gloom on the walkway and she froze in place and her smile changed to puzzlement and her hands came up over her mouth, so that Reacher could see nothing of her face except two huge eyes.
He said, 'Hello, Lucy.'
FIFTY-SIX
DELFUENSO HERSELF CAME out straight after that. She must have heard his voice. She stopped on the walkway all backlit by warm light from the room behind her. She looked in great shape. She looked rested, and happy, and relieved, and relaxed. She was wearing a woman's version of the place's standard-issue clothing. New blue jeans, and a new blue blouse under a new blue sweater of a different style, lighter and tighter and shorter than the men's. Her hair was clean and styled, and her face was bright and fresh. Clearly she had found piles of clothes on her bed, and toiletries in her bathroom.
We've been expecting you.
She said, 'Lucy, this is Mr Reacher. He was with me part of the time.'
The kid said, 'Hello, Mr Reacher.'
'Hello, Lucy,' Reacher said again.
The kid said, 'You broke your nose.'
'Technically someone broke it for me.'
'Does it hurt?'
'Not much any more.'
Delfuenso said, 'Lucy was on her way to try the mini golf.'
'It's too dark,' Reacher said. 'I was just there.'
The kid pondered that new information. Her face went serious and contemplative. She said, 'Then can I go look for something else? I don't think I've seen everything yet.'
'Sure,' her mother said. 'Go see what you can find.' So the kid scuttled away along the path and Delfuenso looked at Reacher and said, 'I guess the fence makes it safe for her to run around on her own. And there's no water in the pool.'
Reacher said, 'Can we talk?'
'About what?'
'Last night. And today.'
'We're not allowed to talk about that.'
'Do you always do what you're told?'
'No, not always. But I think I will about this kind of stuff.'
'What kind of stuff?'
'National security. We can't tell anyone about anything.'
'I was there with you.'
'For some of it. Not for all of it.'
'Will you answer questions for me? That's not the same as telling me things.'
'They brought you here. They'll tell you what's happening.'
Reacher said, 'I don't think they know what's happening.'
They had just thirty minutes before dinner and Delfuenso was nervous about talking, so they used the closest clandestine location they could find, which was Delfuenso's room itself. It was identical to Reacher's, except for two twin beds instead of a single queen, which made it cramped, because of two large armchairs. Reacher sat down in one, and Delfuenso lifted her bag off the other. The bag with the aspirins. It looked heavy. Maybe she still had her bottle of water in it.
He said, 'What did you think had happened, back at that motel?'
She dumped her bag on the bed. It bounced once, and settled. She sat down in her chair.
'We're not allowed to talk about that,' she said again.
'Says who?'
'They made it clear. We're here for our own protection. Talking could put us at risk.'
'How could it?'
'They didn't say exactly. They just said we're tangled up in things we don't understand, and we're here because they want to keep us safe. We're sequestered, like a jury. Something to do with the Patriot Act.'
'Sequestered? That's bullshit. You're locked up. You can't leave.'
'I don't want to leave. It's kind of fun here. I haven't had a vacation in years.'
'What about your job?'
'They said they'll square that away with my boss. School too, for Lucy. They said they can make it OK. A thing like this, everyone has to pull together.'
'Did they say how long you have to stay here?'
'Until it's over. Not too long, probably. But I hope it's at least a week.'
Reacher said nothing.
Delfuenso said, 'Your nose looks a little better.'
'Does it?' Reacher said, although he didn't want to. He didn't want to talk about his nose. But he figured a little conversation might not hurt. A delay and a frustration, but faster than shouting or yelling or fighting.
Delfuenso said, 'It looked really awful before. I was staring at it in the car for hours. You cleaned it up.'
He nodded.
She said, 'In fact you cleaned your whole self up. You took a shower, didn't you?'
'It's not that rare of an occurrence.'
'Well, I wondered.'
'I bought new clothes too.'
'You needn't have. They give you clothes here. They said we're allowed to keep them. Both sets, if we want. And the toiletries.'
He asked, 'What happened after you left that motel in Iowa?'
She didn't answer.
He said, 'You know what happened. They know what happened. How can it hurt if I know what happened too? I'm in here with you. I can't go anywhere. I can't talk to anyone else.'
Delfuenso thought for a long moment. Her face went exactly like her daughter's, serious and contemplative. Then she shrugged and said, 'That part was pretty awful. After you went inside with McQueen, I mean. I couldn't see much. He was in the way. But I saw the flash and heard the shot. He came running out and I couldn't see you any more. I assumed you were dead. And then McQueen told us you were.'