"What?" Reacher called.
"Step to the hood of the car," the sergeant called back.
Reacher kept his hands clear of his body and walked to the car.
"Assume the position," the sergeant said.
Reacher put his palms on the fender and leaned down. The sheet metal was hot from the engine. The trooper covered him with the shotgun and the sergeant patted him down.
"O. K. , get in the car," he said.
Reacher didn't move.
"What's this about?" he asked.
"A request from a property owner to remove a trespasser. "
"I'm not a trespasser. I work here. "
"Well, I guess they just terminated you. So now you're a trespasser. And we're going to remove you. "
"That's a state police job?"
"Small community like this, we're on call to help the local guys, their days off, or serious crimes. "
"Trespassing is a serious crime?"
"No, Sunday is the Echo sheriff's day off. "
The moths had found the spotlight. They fluttered in and crowded the lens, landing and taking off again when the heat of the bulb got to them. They batted against Reacher's right arm. They felt dry and papery and surprisingly heavy.
"O. K. , I'll leave," he said. "I'll walk out to the road. "
"Then you'll be a vagrant on a county highway. That's against the law, too, around here, especially during the hours of darkness. "
"So where are we going?"
"You have to leave the county. We'll let you out in Pecos. "
"They owe me money. I never got paid. "
"So get in the car. We'll stop at the house. "
Reacher glanced left at the trooper, and the shotgun. Both of them looked businesslike. He glanced right, at the sergeant. He had his hand on the butt of his gun. He saw in his mind the two Greer boys, two versions of the same face, both of them grinning, smug and triumphant. But it was Rusty he saw mouthing checkmate at him.
"There's a problem here," he said. "The daughter-in-law is getting smacked around by her husband. It's an ongoing situation. He just got out of prison today. "
"She made a complaint?"
"She's scared to. The sheriff's a good old boy and she's a Hispanic woman from California. "
"Nothing we can do without a complaint. "
Reacher glanced the other way at the trooper, who just shrugged.
"Like the man told you," he said. "Nothing we can do without we hear about it. "
"You're hearing about it now," Reacher said. "I'm telling you. "
The trooper shook his head. "Needs to come from the victim. "
"Get in the car," the sergeant said.
"You don't have to do this. "
"Yes, we do. "
"I need to be here. For the woman's sake. "
"Listen, pal, we were informed you're trespassing. So all we got is a question of whether you're wanted here, or whether you're not. And apparently, you're not. "
"The woman wants me here. Like her bodyguard. "
"Is she the property owner?"
"No, she isn't. "
"Are you employed by her? Like officially?"
Reacher shrugged. "More or less. "
"She paying you? You got a contract we can see?"
Reacher said nothing.
"So get in the car. "
"She's in danger. "
"We get a call, we'll come running. "
"She can't call. Or if she does, the sheriff won't pass it on. "
"Then there's nothing we can do. Now get in the car. "
Reacher said nothing. The sergeant opened the rear door. Then he paused.
"You could come back tomorrow," he said, quietly. "No law says a man can't try to get himself rehired. "
Reacher took a second look at the shotgun. It was a big handsome Ithaca with a muzzle wide enough to stick his thumb in. He took a second look at the sergeant's handgun. It was a Glock, secured into an oiled leather holster by a strap that would take about half a second to unfasten.
"But right now, get in the car. "
Checkmate.
"O. K. ," Reacher said. "But I'm not happy. "
"Very few of our passengers are," the sergeant said back.
He used his hand on the top of Reacher's head and folded him into the back seat. It was cold in there. There was a heavy wire barrier in front of him. Either side, the door handles and the window winders had been removed. Small squares of aluminum had been riveted over the holes in the trim. The seat was vinyl. There was a smell of disinfectant and a heavy stink from an air freshener shaped like a pine tree hanging from the mirror in front. There was a radar device built up on top of the dash and quiet radio chatter coming from a unit underneath it. The sergeant and the trooper swung in together in front and drove him up to the house. All the Greers except Ellie were on the porch to see him go. They were standing in a line at the rail, first Rusty, then Bobby, then Sloop and Carmen. They were all smiling. All except Carmen.
The sergeant stopped the car at the foot of the steps and buzzed his window down. "This guy says you owe him wages," he called.
There was silence for a second. Just the sound of the insects. "So tell him to sue us," Bobby called back.
Reacher leaned forward to the metal grille.
"Carmen!" he shouted. "Si hay un problema, llama directamente a estos hombres!"
The sergeant turned his head. "What?"
"Nothing. "
"So what do you want to do?" the sergeant asked. "About your money?"
"Forget about it," Reacher said.
The sergeant buzzed his window up again and pulled out toward the gate. Reacher craned his neck and saw them all turn to watch him go, all except for Carmen, who stood absolutely still and stared rigidly ahead at the spot where the car had just been. The sergeant made a right onto the road and Reacher turned his head the other way and saw them all filing back into the house. Then the sergeant accelerated hard and they were lost to sight.
"What was that you called out to them?" he asked.
Reacher said nothing.
The trooper answered for him. "It was Spanish," he said. "For the woman. It meant 'Carmen, if there's trouble, call these guys direct. ' Terrible accent. "
Reacher said nothing.
They drove the same sixty miles he had covered the other way in the white Cadillac, back to the crossroads hamlet with Ellie's school and the gas station and the old diner. The sergeant stuck to a lazy fifty-five all the way, and it took an hour and five minutes. When they got there, everything was closed up tight. There were lights burning in two of the houses, and nothing else. Then they drove the stretch where Carmen had chased the school bus. Nobody talked. Reacher sprawled sideways on the vinyl bench and watched the darkness. Another twenty minutes north he saw the turn where Carmen had come down out of the hills. They didn't take it. They just kept on going, heading for the main highway, and then Pecos beyond it.
They never got there. The radio call came in a mile short of the county line. An hour and thirty-five minutes into the ride. The call was bored and laconic and loud with static. A woman dispatcher's voice.
"Blue Five, Blue Five" it said.
The trooper unhooked the microphone and stretched the cord and clicked the switch.
"Blue Five, copy, over," he said.
"Required at the Red House Ranch immediately, sixty miles south of north Echo crossroads, domestic disturbance reported, over. "
"Copy, nature of incident, over?"
"Unclear at this time, believed violent, over. "
"Well, shit," the sergeant said.
"Copy, on our way, out," the trooper said. He replaced the microphone. Turned around. "So she understood your Spanish. I guess your accent wasn't too far off, after all. "
Reacher said nothing. The sergeant turned his head.
"Look on the bright side, pal," he said. "Now we can do something about it. "
"I warned you," Reacher said. "And you should have damn well listened to me. So if she's hurt bad, it's on you. Pal. "
The sergeant said nothing to that. Just jammed on the brakes and pulled a wide slow turn across the whole of the road, shoulder to shoulder. Got it pointing straight south again and hustled. He got it up to a hundred on the straightaways, kept it at ninety on the curves. He didn't use the lights or the siren. Didn't even slow at the crossroads. He didn't need to. The chances of meeting traffic on that road were worse than winning the lottery.
They were back again exactly two hours and thirty minutes after they left. Ninety-five minutes north, fifty-five minutes south. First thing they saw was the sheriff's secondhand cruiser, dumped at an angle in the yard, door open, light bar flashing. The sergeant slewed through the dirt and jammed to a stop right behind it.
"Hell's he doing here?" he said. "It's his day off. "
There was nobody in sight. The trooper opened his door. The sergeant shut down the motor and did the same.
"Let me out," Reacher said.
"No dice, pal," the sergeant said back. "You stay right there. "
They got out and walked together to the porch steps. They went up. Across the boards. They pushed the door. It was open. They went inside. The door swung shut behind them. Reacher waited. Five minutes. Seven. Ten. The car grew warm. Then hot. There was silence. No sound at all beyond random static from the radio and the ticking of the insects.
The trooper came out alone after about twelve minutes. Walked slowly back to his side of the car and opened his door and leaned in for the microphone.
"Is she O. K. ?" Reacher asked.
The guy nodded, sourly.
"She's fine," he said. "At least physically. But she's in a shitload of trouble. "
"Why?"
"Because the call wasn't about him attacking her. It was the other way around. She shot him. He's dead. So we just arrested her. "