Don't Know Jack

right?”

“That’s right.”

“Why did you like Reacher for the crime?”

“Both the victim and Reacher were strangers we knew nothing about. Several witnesses saw Reacher walking in the vicinity of the crime scene during the relevant time frame. It made sense in context.”

Kim understood. She’d been to Margrave. She realized how much a stranger like Reacher would stick out, how the coincidence would be too much to ignore. She’d have figured him as the killer, herself. In fact, Reacher was still the best suspect based on the little bit she knew. She’d held suspects on less.

“Who was the victim?” Kim asked.

Finlay hesitated. “We didn’t know the name when Reacher was arrested. Victim had no ID on him and his body had been rendered unrecognizable. We identified him after we’d confirmed Reacher’s alibi and released him from custody. With apologies.”

Gaspar repeated the question. “Who was the victim?”

Again, the pause, but nothing with the eyelid. Kim saw Finlay didn’t want to say the victim’s name. But this was a guy who did what he had to.

“It was Reacher’s brother,” he said, quietly.

Kim stared. Finlay had arrested Jack Reacher for murdering his own brother, a crime he didn’t commit, didn’t even know had occurred. His only brother. A screw-up of monumental proportions. Finlay was lucky to be alive.

And maybe he knew it.

Finlay said, “I’m sorry to be in such a hurry, but I do have a plane to catch. Is there anything else you need right now?”

“Was Reacher violent?”

“Yes.”

“Was he crazy?”

“I didn’t think so at the time.”

“Unpredictable?”

Finlay laughed. The sound was deep, resonant, and it shook the room for what seemed like a full minute. Eventually he said, “Agent Otto, I’d say that if you looked up that word in the dictionary, you’d find nothing but a full color photo of Jack Reacher.”

Then his handlers knocked on the door. Time to go. They accompanied Finlay toward the exit. He towered over Kim and he was a good four inches taller than Gaspar, too. When he reached the door, he turned and reached straight out and took her phone out of her pocket. Like a magic trick. He pushed the button to stop the recording and dropped the phone back into place.

He said, “Let’s go off the record now.” He slid two business cards from his jacket pocket. He handed one to each of them. “I promised your boss I’d help you if I can. That’s my private cell. Call me with your questions after you’ve read the files. Let me know if you need anything else. If I can’t talk immediately, I’ll get back to you.”

Then with his hand on the doorknob he added, “And when you do find Jack Reacher, give him my regards, will you? Ask him to call me when he has the time. You can give him that number.”

Gaspar asked, “Did you know Harry Black?”

Finlay thought and came up empty. “I don’t recognize the name. Who is he?”

“Who was he. He’s dead.”

Finlay shook his head. “Should I have known him?”

“He was a Margrave cop. Killed last night. Roscoe was pretty upset about it.”

There it was again. The eyelid flick. Finlay knew something. But he said, “Must have been hired after I left.”

“His wife shot him, she claims.” Gaspar pulled out his smart phone and showed Finlay a picture. “Sylvia Black. Do you know her?”

The flick came before the lie this time, and again afterward.

“Never saw her before,” Finlay said.

“Did Reacher kill Harry Black?” Gaspar asked.

The aide knocked again, opened the door, stood aside.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” Finlay replied. He turned and walked away. His entourage followed behind him like ducklings follow their mother.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Kim stared at Finlay’s business card. There was nothing on it except the phone number. No name. No title. She slapped it back and forth across her fingers. Gaspar said, “Roscoe and Finlay are both as nervous as hens in a fox house every time we ask about Reacher. They’ve got something to hide, and it’s big enough to bury them both. Don’t you think?”

Kim said, “Whatever they’re hiding, it’s something the boss doesn’t know.”

Gaspar raised his right eyebrow.

She said, “Don’t give me that. You’re the one who said he’s not God. Obviously he doesn’t know. Think it through, Zorro.”

“It’s a mystery to me how your mind works, Susie Kwan.” Gaspar moved over to the coffee and poured a cup for each of them before pulling out his laptop. “We’ve got about an hour before our flight to Atlanta. I’m not walking into Margrave again until I know everything Roscoe and Finlay are hiding. No more flailing around in the dark. I’ll find the files Finlay was talking about. Should be easy enough unless they’re sealed. You take Joe Reacher and Sylvia Black.”

He bent his head to his task. She got her phone out. She sent the recording to her secure storage. Then she beamed a copy to her laptop. The audio would be transcribed and available on her laptop in minutes; she’d go through it again on the plane.

She asked, “You still think the Blacks are involved in the Reacher situation somehow?” She wrinkled her nose. The coffee was tepid. She liked her coffee hot.

“It would be stupid not to think so,” Gaspar said.

“Agreed.” And Special Agent Kim Louisa Otto would not fail because she’d been stupid. Not now, not ever. She walked to the window and pulled the heavy drapes open and gazed into the pre-dawn. Airports were fascinating places. Little cities of their own. Then she turned away from the window and rubbed the tension out of her neck and refocused.

She saw she had voice mail from Chief Roscoe’s cell phone. She pressed play. Only a fragment had been recorded due to fluctuating cell tower signals. Roscoe must have been out of range or in a vehicle when she called. “-couldn’t wait? I told you I would handle this. Where did you take her?-”

“Sounds like Roscoe’s ticked off at us again,” Kim said. She put the message on speaker and played it again. Roscoe sounded angry. Gaspar didn’t look up from his screen, but he cocked his head like a wolf hearing distant threats.

Kim played the message twice more. “Makes no sense. What’s she talking about? Did she call you at any point?”

He pulled his phone out to check. “Nothing. What time did she call?”

“Timer says her message came in at 12:33 a.m.” Kim felt herself squint, remembered the white lines around Roscoe’s eyes and made an effort to stop wrinkling her face.

“I doubt she’d appreciate a call back at this hour. It’s got to be after four in the morning.” Gaspar worked his laptop as fast as any college kid. “I’ve got an ace analyst in my office. She could find this stuff in a Miami Minute.”

“Which is what? Two hours?”

“Funny. The point is: I’m getting nowhere. Are you?” He ran a hand through his hair, stood briefly to stretch, and restarted.