“You know the stats as well as anyone, chief. Bad boys get worse, not better. If you really want an update I guess I could check the prison database. Or the morgue.”
“Kids?” Roscoe asked.
Kim shook her head in horror, hard enough to make her vision swim. “With him? Tied to him forever? Seeing him every time I looked at the kid? Always, always, wondering if his sorry genes would win out no matter how hard I worked to be sure they didn’t? Definitely not.”
Roscoe stared into the fire. “Wise choice, Agent Otto. Good cop is a lot easier than good mother.”
She lifted a slim remote, pressed a button, and Mozart’s
Kim asked, “Would it be so bad? If you lose the job over the Harry Black thing? It’s not easy to be the boss, even in a sleepy small-town cop shop. You could move into something less demanding. Spend more time with Jack. Get her straightened out.”
Roscoe replied, “Don’t worry about me, Kim. Old man Kliner made my career fifteen years ago. Before that, Margrave wasn’t even on the map. But when Kliner blew up, I became a star around here. Never would have happened without him. Maybe he’s about to do it again. Ever consider that? I’ve got no regrets.” She hesitated slightly. “I just liked my kid better before.”
“Before what?”
“Before she grew boobs.”
“And she was late coming home tonight?”
Roscoe sighed again, as if she carried Atlas-sized burdens on a frame much too small. She folded both hands together and brought them to her chin, leaned her head forward, rubbed lower lip with one knuckle. She said, “The sneaking out started three nights ago.”
Which had been the night before Harry Black’s murder. Timing might not be everything, but opportunity leads to crimes and suspects. No wonder the momma hen was so upset about her chick. “You’re worried that Jack is somehow connected to the Black case?”
Roscoe seemed relieved that Kim had finally caught up. “I know Jack had nothing to do with what happened out at Harry’s place Sunday night.”
“How sure are you about that?” Kim’s gut said Roscoe wasn’t as certain as she’d like to be. Worried cop, terrified mom. Simple equation.
“Very sure,” Roscoe said. “I checked. Personally.”
“Gaspar thinks Harry and Sylvia were into porn. He thinks that’s how they collected and laundered the Kliners. You think Jack’s been participating in that?”
Instant alarm widened Roscoe’s eyes. “No! Of course not!”
“You think she helped Sylvia cover up the murder and escape?”
“No.”
Less volume, but more worry. Getting closer.
“You think she’s been out with Jack Reacher for the past three nights?”
Roscoe took a breath and held it. Her hands fell limp into her lap.
Bingo?
But then Roscoe relaxed. She grinned. “Of all the possibilities I considered when Jack didn’t come home the night my sergeant was murdered, Agent Otto, I never once worried that my daughter was cavorting until the wee hours with Jack Reacher.”
Kim thought Roscoe was telling the truth.
Too bad.
She asked, “How do you know?”
Roscoe actually giggled. Maybe it was the whiskey. “Honey, you are so far off the mark you can’t even
Kim sat straighter in her chair. “OK, I get it. You don’t think Reacher’s involved in the Sylvia Black case at all. At least tell me straight out. Why not?”
“To begin with, if Reacher was in town, I’d know it. He’d have contacted me, or someone would have seen him. He’s a big guy. He’s obviously not from around here. He’d stand out. That’s how he got arrested fifteen years ago. He couldn’t sneak in and out of Margrave without someone knowing.”
Wishful thinking. The guy was a ghost. He’d slipped into and out of tighter places without any trouble, whenever he wanted to. “And?”
Roscoe took a big gulp of liquid courage. “When you mentioned the possibility that Reacher was involved with Sylvia, I’ll admit, you threw me.”
“And rescuing women like Sylvia is exactly the kind of thing he might do. So I checked your theory out. And it wasn’t him.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know,” Roscoe said, sounding like her daughter.
“You’re clairvoyant? You have a crystal ball? Tarot cards?”
“Have you learned nothing about the man, hot shot? Reacher wouldn’t do any of it.”
“Really? You’re saying Reacher wouldn’t kill anyone? Because twelve people died when he was here fifteen years ago and I’m thinking that was no coincidence.” Kim knew she should have stopped right there even as she barreled on. “Don’t try to sell me that line of bull, Beverly. Makes you look like Bonnie to his Clyde.” Brief pause.
Roscoe said, “You know, Kim, even Reacher would hurt you for that remark.”
“Because it’s true?”
“Because it isn’t. You don’t know Jack. At all.”
“So enlighten me.”
“His brother Joe died because of that money. Jack would never profit from Joe’s death like that. He wouldn’t shoot a sleeping enemy instead of taking him face-on. And he’d never spend his time cleaning up like that. Not his style.”
“No?”
“Definitely not.”
“What would he have done, then?”
“If he’d killed Harry for the Kliners, which he didn’t, he’d have destroyed Harry’s place completely. He didn’t blow up the Chevy, either. So don’t even start with that idea.”
“And you know this because?”
The music changed to Chopin's
Roscoe seemed to reach a decision. She wiped her face again. She settled her shoulders. She said, “Reacher left here bound for Chicago back then and I’ve never heard from him since. What I wanted to tell you tonight is that it wasn’t him. On the video tape. Springing Sylvia last night. The fake Marshall Wright. Not Jack Reacher. Definitely. Not. Him.”
“Evidence? Facts?” Kim asked. “And don’t tell me you just know, Beverly.”
Roscoe stood, moved to the fireside, turned her back toward the room. “Reacher’s taller. Bigger build. Boxier shoulders. Straighter posture. Longer reach. Deeper voice. Different walk.”
'Maybe he's changed in fifteen years,' Kim said.
Roscoe paused again, and turned to face Kim from across the room. She made her next observations in a softer tone, confirming Kim’s instincts about her relationship with Reacher in every respect. She said, “Reacher’s wrists are thicker, and his hands too broad for the gloves in the video. He’s kinder to women. He wouldn’t grab Sylvia’s arm or push her into the car like that. He displays more finesse. He’s much smarter. It radiates off of him. And he’s a very cautious guy. If he had collected Sylvia Black from our jail, no evidence would ever connect him to the escape, just as there’s no evidence he was ever here fifteen years ago. Simply put, if Reacher had been here that night, we’d have no video to analyze.”
Kim was quiet for a spell. She’d made too many assumptions. The assumptions had led to false starts and
