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.
16
I heard Deveraux leave the hotel at twenty past seven exactly. First the street door creaked open and slammed shut, and then her car door creaked open and slammed shut. I got up and looked out the window. She was behind the wheel, low in the seat, in what looked like a clean version of the same uniform she had worn the day before. Her riot of hair was still wet from the shower. She was talking on the radio. Probably telling Pellegrino that job one for the day was to haul my ass halfway back to Memphis.
I went down the stairs and stepped out to the sidewalk. The morning air was fresh and cold. I looked up the street and saw that Deveraux's car was parked again, right outside the diner. So far, so good. I walked in that direction and pushed in through the door, past the pay phone, past the hostess station. There were six customers inside, including Deveraux. The other five were men, four of them in work clothes and the fifth in a pale-colored suit. A professional gentleman. Maybe a country lawyer or a country doctor, or the guy that ran the loan office next to Brannan's bar. The waitress was the same woman as the night before. She was busy toting plates of food, so I didn't wait for her. I just walked up to Deveraux's table and said, "Would you mind if I joined you?"