store carried was going to be loose in the waist and long in the leg. Not perfect. But Turner figured the discrepancy was going to be a good thing. A feature, not a bug, was how she put it. Because the pant legs would pool down over her army boots, thereby hiding them to some extent, and making them less obvious.
They bought the pants and three pairs of boot laces, one for Reacher’s boots, and one for Turner’s, and one for her to double up and use as a belt. They conducted their business in as unmemorable a manner as they could. Neither polite nor impolite, neither rushing nor stalling, not really saying much of anything. Turner didn’t use the restroom. She wanted to change, but they figured for the last customer of the day to go in wearing ACU pants and come out in a new purchase would likely stick in the clerk’s memory.
But the store had a big parking lot on one side, and it was empty and dark, so Turner changed her pants in the shadows and dumped her army issue in a trash container at the rear of the building. Then she came out, and they traded jacket for shirt, and they sat down on a kerb together and tied their boots.
Good to go, with four dollars left in Reacher’s pocket.
Four bucks was a week’s wage in some countries of the world, but it wasn’t worth much of a damn in Berryville, Virginia. It wouldn’t buy transportation out of the state, and it wouldn’t buy a night in a motel, and it wouldn’t buy a proper sit-down meal for two, not in any kind of restaurant or diner known to man.
Turner said, ‘You told me there’s more than one kind of ATM.’
‘There is,’ Reacher said. ‘Fifty miles ahead, or fifty miles back. But not here.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘Me too.’
‘There’s no point in holding on to four dollars.’
‘I agree,’ Reacher said. ‘Let’s go crazy.’
They walked back towards the railroad track, fast and newly confident in their newly laced boots, to the pizza restaurant they had seen. Not a gourmet place, which was just as well. They bought a single slice each, to go, pepperoni for Reacher, plain cheese for Turner, and a can of soda to share between them. Which left them eighty cents in change. They ate and drank sitting side by side on a rail at the train crossing.
Turner asked, ‘Did you lose guys when you were CO?’
‘Four,’ Reacher said. ‘One of them was a woman.’
‘Did you feel bad?’
‘I wasn’t turning cartwheels. But it’s all part of the game. We all know what we’re signing up for.’
‘I wish I’d gone myself.’
Reacher asked, ‘Have you ever been to the Cayman Islands?’
‘No.’
‘Ever had a foreign bank account?’
‘Are you kidding? Why would I? I’m an O4. I make less than some high-school teachers.’
‘Why did you take a day to pass on the name of the Hood guy’s contact?’
‘What is this, the third degree?’
‘I’m thinking,’ Reacher said. ‘That’s all.’
‘You know why. I wanted to bust him myself. To make sure it was done properly. I gave myself twenty-four hours. But I couldn’t find him. So I told the FBI. They should think themselves lucky. I could have given myself a week.’
‘I might have,’ Reacher said. ‘Or a month.’
They finished their pizza slices, and drained the shared can of soda. Reacher wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then wiped the back of his hand on his pants. Turner said, ‘What are we going to do now?’
‘We’re going to walk through town and hitch a ride west.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Better than sleeping under a bush.’
‘How far west?’
‘All the way west,’ Reacher said. ‘We’re going to Los Angeles.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Reacher said. ‘It’s complicated.’
They walked through the downtown area, on a street called East Main, which became a street called West Main after a central crossroads. All the store windows were dark. All the doors were shuttered. Berryville was no doubt a fine American town, matter-of-fact and unpretentious, but it was no kind of hub. That was for damn sure. It was all closed up and slumbering, even though it was only the middle of the evening.
They walked on. Turner looked good in the shirt, even though she could have gotten herself and her sister in it together. But she had rolled the sleeves, and she had shrugged and wriggled like women do, and it had draped and fallen into some kind of a coherent shape. Somehow its hugeness emphasized how slender she was. Her hair was still down. She moved with lithe, elastic energy, a wary, quizzical look never leaving her eyes, but there was
