army. That’s what the guys in the library saw. A simple three-point check list. Size, hair, army. That’s what they’ve got. Not very nuanced or exact.”
Amos said, “Why does any of this matter?”
“I think the description fits Carter Carrington, too.”
Amos said nothing.
“I think it’s close enough to be awkward,” Reacher said. “Certainly he’s bigger than the average guy. He’s imposing, physically. His hair is all over the place. Across a room, he has a certain look. I thought he was army. Turned out he wasn’t, but I would have sworn. I was placing bets on where he did his ROTC.”
“You think we should warn him?”
“I think you should put a car outside his house.”
“Seriously?”
“Maybe a job for Officer Davison. He seems to be a capable young man. I would hate for something to happen. Because of me. I don’t want Carrington on my conscience. He seems like a nice guy. He just got a new girlfriend.”
“Protecting him would be a huge diversion of resources.”
“He’s an innocent bystander. He’s also the guy who goes to bat for you.”
“I think he would refuse on principle. Precisely because of that. He’ll say he can’t accept special treatment. The optics would be terrible. The threat is against someone else, after all, who might or might not have a slight physical resemblance. He would look corrupt, and vain, and a coward. He won’t do it.”
“Then tell him to get out of town.”
“I can’t just tell him. Doesn’t work that way.”
“You told me.”
“That was different.”
“Tell him there’s something wrong with the story.”
“What does that mean?”
Reacher paused a moment, to let a truck roar past on the road. A tow truck. Heading north. It was huge. It was the kind of thing that could haul an eighteen-wheeler off the highway. It was grinding along slow and noisy in a low gear. He realized he had seen it before. It was bright red and spotlessly clean. It had gold stripes all over it. Its passage rocked the Subaru on its springs. It growled away into the distance behind them.
Reacher put the phone back to his ear.
He said, “Carrington will get the message. He’ll know what I mean. Tell him to see an opportunity where others might see a crisis. He could take a short vacation. Somewhere romantic. Rates are down after Labor Day.”
“He has a job,” Amos said. “He might be busy.”
“Tell him I’m happy to listen to him about census methodology. Tell him he should listen to me about staying-alive methodology.”
Amos said, “I was feeling pretty good until you laid this on me. We have a bad guy in town, OK, but never mind, because the bad guy has no target. Now you tell me he does have a target after all, kind of, sort of, maybe.”
“Call me if you need me,” Reacher said. “This number should be good another hour or two. I would be happy to come back to town and lend a hand. You could give my regards to Chief Shaw, if you like, and make him the offer.”
“Do not come back to town,” Amos said. “Under no circumstances.”
“Never?”
“Not soon,” she said.
Reacher clicked off the call.
* * *
—
Lunch hour was long gone, and Burke said he was hungry. He said he wanted to go get something to eat. Reacher offered to pay, as a way of saying thank you for all the driving around. So they headed east toward a lake, where Burke said he knew a bait shop that had soda pop and sandwiches, at the head of a trail that led to the water, mostly used by fishermen carrying poles. It was a decent drive, and at the end of it the destination was exactly as advertised. It was a shack with an ice chest outside, and glass chiller cabinets inside, humming loudly, some of them full of stuff for people to eat, and others full of stuff for fish to eat. There was a yard-wide deli counter, with a choice of chicken salad or tuna, on white bread or a hot dog roll, plus a bag of potato chips, plus a bottle of cold water, all for a penny less than three dollars. Soda pop was extra.
Reacher said, “I told you I was paying. You should have picked out somewhere expensive.”
Burke said, “I did.”
He got tuna and Reacher got chicken. They both stuck with water. They ate outside, at a government-brown picnic table near the head of the trail.
“Now give me the message,” Reacher said. “From the ornithologist.”