Chapter 45

They went in Amos’s unmarked car. She drove, and Burke sat neatly beside her. Reacher sprawled in the back. He told them everything Stan had told him. They asked how he felt. It was a short conversation. He said nothing had changed, except a very minor historical detail. His father had once been called by a different name, way back long ago, when he was a kid. First he was Bill, then he was Stan. Same guy. Same bomb waiting to go off. But disciplined. If you did the right thing, he left you alone. A good fighter, and brave as a lunatic.

He loved his family.

A birdwatcher all his life.

Often with the naked eye, for a bigger picture.

“Did your mother know?” Amos asked.

“Great question,” Reacher said. “Probably not. It turned out she had secrets of her own. I think neither of them knew. I think they allowed for things like that. A clean slate. No questions. Maybe that’s why they got along.”

“She must have wondered why he had no parents.”

“I guess.”

“Do you wonder now?”

“A little bit. Because of the birthday cards. That has a certain flavor. It feels like an obscure department of a government agency. It takes care of things while you’re away. It makes sure your rent gets paid. Or else they were in prison. I would have to know the return address.”

Burke said, “Are you going to try to find out?”

“No,” Reacher said.

On their right the sky was streaked with dawn. The car was filled with low golden light. Amos found the turn to Ryantown. The gentle left, through the orchards. The sun burned around behind them, until it was low and dead center in the rear windshield. Amos shaded her eyes from the mirror, and came to a stop at the fence.

“Five minutes,” Reacher said.

He got out of the car and stepped over the fence. He walked through the orchard. The dawn light was on his back. His shadow was infinitely long. He stepped over the next fence. The Ryantown city limit. The darker leaves, the damper smell. The sunless shadows.

He walked down Main Street, like before, between the thin trees, on the tipped-up stones, past the church, past the school. After that the trees grew thinner, and the sun crept higher. Dappled sunbeams twinkled in. The world was new.

He heard voices up ahead.

Two people talking. Lightly, and happily. About something pleasant. Maybe the sunbeams. If so, Reacher agreed. The place looked great. Like an ad for an expensive camera.

He called out, “Hey guys, officer on the floor, coming in, make yourselves decent and stand by your beds.”

He didn’t want to embarrass them. Or himself. There were a number of things that could go wrong. She could be naked. He could have his leg off.

He waited a minute. Neither thing happened. He walked down to the four-flats and found Carter Carrington and Elizabeth Castle standing side by side on the ghost of the road, halfway to the stream. They were staring at him. They were both fully dressed. Albeit in a casual manner. He was in a muscle shirt and athletic pants. She was in cut-off jeans and a T-shirt that didn’t quite meet them. Beyond them were two mountain bikes, leaning on trees. Fat tires, and strong racks on the back, for heavy packs. Beyond the bikes a two-person tent was pitched, on the gritty dirt where the mill foreman’s living room used to be.

Carrington said, “Good morning.”

“You too.”

Then no one spoke.

“It’s always good to see you,” Carrington said.

“You too.”

“But is this purely a coincidence?”

“Not exactly,” Reacher said.

“You were looking for us.”

“Something came up. Turned out to be nothing. It’s all good now. But I thought I should drop by anyway. To say goodbye. I’m moving on”

“How did you find us?”

“For once I listened to the front of my brain. I guess I remembered how it felt. For me once or twice, and maybe for you guys now. Just when you think it’s passing you by, boom, you meet someone. You do all the sappy things you thought you were never going to get a chance to do. You invent a new anniversary every couple of hours. You celebrate the thing that brought you together. Some people do really weird stuff. You do Stan Reacher. You already told me you talk about him on dates. You were last seen at the county offices. You were tracing Stan’s birth record. You wanted to do it properly, every step of the way. Rigorously, and meticulously, like a person should. To make it yours. It’s of sentimental value. You got the last known address. Elizabeth already knew where it was, because she and I worked it out together, on her phone. So you went to find it. You took the heritage tour. Because that’s what people do.”

They smiled and held hands.

Reacher said, “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Elizabeth Castle said, “Thank you.”

“And it shouldn’t make a material difference.”

“What shouldn’t?”

“In the interests of full disclosure, I have to tell you it turns out Stan Reacher was not who I was looking for.”

“He was your father.”

“Turns out he was just a borrowed birth certificate.”

“I see.”

“I hope that doesn’t put a jinx on your relationship.”

“Who borrowed the birth certificate?”

“An obscure cousin with no known antecedents. A blank space on the family tree.”

“How does that make you feel?”

“Absolutely great,” Reacher said. “The less I know, the happier I get.”

“And now you’re moving on.”

“It was nice to meet you. I wish you both the best of luck.”

Carrington said, “What was the cousin’s name?”

“William.”

“Would you mind if we looked into him? It could be interesting. It’s the kind of thing we enjoy.”

“Knock yourselves out,” Reacher said.

Then he said, “In exchange for a favor.”

“What kind?”

“Come say hello to a friend of mine. Just a five minute walk. I’m sure you guys know her. Detective Amos, from the Laconia PD.”

“Brenda?” Carrington said. “Why is she here?”

“Theoretically there might have been a threat against you. She won’t believe it’s over until she sees for herself. I want you to go tell her you’re alive and well, taking a break, and you’ll be back in town whenever.”

“What kind of threat?”

“You slightly resembled the target of an attempted gangland killing. Detective Amos’s extreme thoroughness and lateral thinking made it a concern.”

“Brenda was worried about me?”

“You’re the guy who goes to bat for them. They seem to like you. It’s a sign of weakness. You need to be tougher in future.”

They walked up Main Street together. Past the school. Past the church. Out to the sunny order of the orchard. Amos and Burke waited at the far fence. There were handshakes across the top rail. Assurances were given. Explanations were made. Vacation, no cell service, apologies. No problem, Amos said. Just following up.

Carrington and Castle walked back.

Reacher watched them go. He climbed the fence and stood with the others. He said, “I decided to skip the professor. Maybe you could give him a call.”

“Sure,” Burke said.

“Back to town now?” Amos asked.

Reacher shook his head.

“I’m going to San Diego.”

“From here?”

“Seems appropriate. My dad started out from here many times. This was one of the places he lived. A whole year, when he was six.”

“You seriously want us to leave you in the middle of nowhere?”

“I’ll get a ride. I’ve done it before. About forty minutes. That’s my guess right now. Based on conditions. Worst case fifty. You guys get going. It was a pleasure to meet you. I mean it. I appreciate your kindness.”

They all stood for a moment, doing nothing. Then they all shook hands, kind of sudden and awkward. Two MPs and a priest. All buttoned up.

Burke and Amos got in the car. Reacher watched them drive away. The low morning sun boiled around them. Then they were gone. He set out walking in the same direction. Through the same gentle curve. The sun was in his eyes all the way. He made it to the north-south back road. He picked a spot, and stood in the gutter, and stuck out his thumb.