Hannah woke Reacher at a minute after 7:30 a.m. She shook his shoulder and said, “Danny’s still not answering his phone. I’m getting worried. I think we should go to his place. Right now.”
The directions to Danny’s house were already teed up on Hannah’s phone. Its electronic voice ordered them back to the road, then right, which was the way to Winson. It took Hannah a couple of minutes to get the VW facing the right way. The track was narrow. The steering was heavy. The clutch was stiff. She sawed back and forward, bumping and lurching across the rough surface, until she got a straight shot forward. She picked up a little speed. Reached the mouth of the track. And almost hit a pedestrian. A kid. He looked like he was in his mid-teens. He was pushing some kind of fancy bike up the hill. Very slowly. It was like a contest. Like the bike was trying to pull him back down.
The smart money would be on the bike, Reacher thought.
The kid stopped. He was startled by the ancient bus suddenly appearing out of the trees. He stared through the windshield for a moment. Then he toppled backward and the bike landed on top of him.
Hannah jumped out and rushed up to the kid. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry. Are you OK?”
The kid didn’t answer.
Hannah pulled the bike off him. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”
“I’m fine.” The kid rolled onto all fours, struggled to his feet, and took hold of the handlebars. “Give me that. I need to get going.”
“Where to? What’s the hurry? Do you have any water? Do your parents know you’re here?”
“I’ve got to get to Winson. I can’t be late.”
“Just sit for a moment. Rest. Get your breath back, at least.”
“There’s no time.”
“You’re in no state to walk, let alone ride.” Hannah snatched the handlebars. “We’re going part of your way. Come on. There’s a rack at the back. Put the bike on there. We’ll give you a ride.”
The bus purred up the hill. The bike rattled and bounced on the rack. The kid sat on the couch at the back of the cabin, stiff and anxious.
Hannah adjusted her mirror so that she could see him without turning around. She said, “What’s your name?”
The kid said, “Jed. Jed Starmer.”
“Well, Jed, why’s it so important you get to Winson this morning?”
“Something’s happening. I can’t be late. I’ve come too far to miss it.”
“What’s happening? Where?”
“Someone’s getting released from the prison.” Jed took a breath. “My dad.”
Reacher said, “I read about that. Anton Begovic?”
Jed nodded. “He was never married to my mom. That’s why we have different last names.”
“Does he know you’re coming?”
“He doesn’t know I exist.”
The bus crested the hill and Hannah’s phone announced they had a left turn coming up in a half mile.
Reacher said, “Where did you travel from?”
Jed said, “L.A.”
“On the bike the whole way?”
“On the bus. The Greyhound. I just rode the bike from Jackson.”
“You brought the bike with you?”
“I kind of borrowed it.”
Hannah sighed. Reacher said nothing.
Jed said, “I didn’t steal it. You don’t understand. I had everything planned. I was supposed to stay in a hotel, then get a taxi, but all my stuff got stolen, and my money got stolen, and two creepy guys tried to kidnap me, and some cops came, and—”
Reacher said, “It’s OK. No one’s accusing you of anything.”
“This is important. I’m not a thief, OK? The guy riding the bike was an asshole. He rode into me, and he pushed me, and he yelled at me. Then he left it right there. On the sidewalk. Unlocked. I had no choice. I’ll give it back when I’m done. I swear.”
Hannah said, “Sounds like you’ve had an awful time. You lost everything?”
“Pretty much. All I’ve got left is my toothbrush. I had it in my pocket.”
“What about your mom? Could she not help? Would you like me to call her?”
“You can’t. She died—pancreatic cancer. It came on quick.”
“I’m sorry.”
Reacher said, “What’s your plan when you get to the prison?”
Jed shrugged. “Meet my dad, I guess.”
“How? They have some kind of big shindig planned. Press. TV. The whole nine yards. You won’t be able to just stroll up and say, Hi, I’m your kid.”
Jed shrugged again. “I’ve come this far. I’ll figure something out.”
They came to the intersection and the phone insisted they should turn. Winson was straight on, so Hannah pulled over to the side of the road. She said, “It’s flat from here. You should be OK on the bike. I’ll help you get it off the rack.”
Jed opened the door. “I can get it. Thanks for the ride.”
Hannah said, “Hold on a sec. We need to talk real quick.”
“What about?”
“If I’m understanding this right you’re about to meet your dad for the first time. That’s a huge thing. For both of you. It needs to be handled just right because it’s going to have an impact on the whole of the rest of your lives.”
Jed didn’t respond.
Hannah said, “Have you ever met anyone who’s been in prison?”
Jed said, “No.”
“I have. A lot of times. I work with a charity that helps people when they get out. The next few months are going to be very hard on your dad. Even if he hated it, even if he didn’t deserve to be there, he’ll be totally used to life in an institution. The outside world is completely different. It’s like he’s going to be dumped in a strange country where he doesn’t speak the language or understand the customs. It’ll be daunting for him. It’ll be frightening. He’ll be overwhelmed with all the changes, and one thing he’s really going to struggle with is surprises. He could react…in a way he wouldn’t be happy about, looking back.”
“What are you saying? That I shouldn’t meet my own dad? Because—”
“Not at all. Meeting you, getting to know you, that’ll be the best thing that ever happens to him. But finding out he has a kid, on top of all the other changes he’s going to be facing, that’s a huge deal. It’s a transition that has to be handled carefully. Slowly. And today—release day—might not be the best time.”
“But he doesn’t know I was even born. He doesn’t know to look for me. If we don’t connect today, he’ll disappear again. I’ll never find him.”
“That’s not how it works.” Hannah rummaged in her purse, pulled out a card, and handed it to Jed. “Here’s what I suggest you do. Go to the ceremony outside the prison. See your dad get his freedom back. That’s a big deal. It’s obviously important to you, since you came all this way. And it’ll mean the world to him that you did. But give him a day or two. Then get in touch. Call me when you’re ready. I know how the system works. I can help you find where he’s staying.”
“What am I going to do for a day or two? In Winson? I have no money. Nothing to eat. Nowhere to sleep.”
Reacher fished another wallet out of the pillowcase and took the cash from it. There was $240. He passed it to Jed. “Hannah’s right. You should listen to her. You’re at a crossroads in your life. It’s important you choose the right way to go.”
Jed wrestled the bike down from the rack at the rear of the bus, climbed on, and pedaled straight ahead toward Winson. Hannah pressed the clutch down, then let it back up again without touching the gear stick.
She said, “This is a bad situation. I’m worried about that kid.”
Reacher said, “You’re right. He’s terrible on that bike. We should have made him walk.”
“I’m not talking about road safety. It’s the whole deal with Begovic getting released. Minerva will arrange support for him. It’s all a big PR stunt so Hix will make sure it’s done right. He won’t want stories in the press about Begovic killing himself or committing some crime just to get locked up again. But Jed? Who’s going to look out for him? If it’s true that his mom is dead, he’s got no one. I’ve seen this before. I know how it will play out. The poor kid’s setting himself up to fail.”
The phone prompted them to proceed to the route so Hannah took the left turn. Then the phone had them swing away to the south and skirt around the center of the town. The road was surrounded by trees. They were tall and mature, but there were no buildings for more than half a mile. Then they came to a house. It was huge. It was gleaming white. Four columns supported a porch and a balcony, which jutted out at the center. Further balconies ran the whole width on two levels on either side. The place was the size of a hotel and it was surrounded by a wall with a fancy iron gate. A driveway wrapped around an oval patch of grass with flowers and shrubs and a raised fountain. A car was parked between the fountain and the steps leading up to the front door. A BMW sedan. It was large and black. Reacher recognized it. The day before it had been in the curved lot outside the prison.
They continued for another three-quarters of a mile then turned to the west. The trees thinned out and houses began to appear on both sides of the street. The homes grew closer and larger and more uniform until the phone said their destination was a hundred feet ahead, on the left. That would place Danny’s house on the final lot before a smaller road peeled away to the south. But there was a problem. That lot was empty.
Hannah pulled over at the side of the street and they saw that the lot wasn’t completely empty. There was a stand-alone garage in the far corner, with a short drive leading to the side road. There was a mailbox mounted on a skinny metal pole. It had originally been red but the paint had faded over the years, leaving it pink, like a flamingo. And the main portion of the lot hadn’t been empty long. It was full of ash. Black and gray and uneven, heaped up in some places, sagging down in others, with the scorched remnants of a brick fireplace in the approximate center.
Reacher climbed out of the VW. He could smell smoke. Hannah joined him on the sidewalk. She was blinking rapidly and her mouth was open but she didn’t speak. Reacher figured there wasn’t much to say. A minute later a man approached them from the next-door house. He looked to be in his sixties, tall, thin, with silver hair, a plaid shirt, and jeans that looked like they were in danger of falling down.
“Morning,” the guy said. “You folks new to the neighborhood?”
Reacher said, “What happened here?”
“There was a fire.”
Reacher caught an echo of his mother’s voice. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. He said, “Really? When?”
“Last Saturday. Early in the morning.”
“How did it start?”
“The guy who owned the place was smoking a cigarette. That’s what I heard. He woke up, lit his first of the day, then fell back to sleep.”
“Was his name Danny Peel, the owner?”
The guy nodded.
Reacher said, “Where is he now?”
“We cremated him, Wednesday. Kind of ironic, given the way he went, but those were his wishes. There wasn’t much of a crowd. Just me and a couple of people from his work.”
“From the prison?”
The guy nodded again.
“Did people he worked with come by his house often?”
“There was one woman. Don’t know her name.”
“Anyone else?”
“He was a quiet kind of a guy. Didn’t seem to socialize much. Not at home, anyway.”
“Was anyone at his house on Saturday? Before the fire?”
“I doubt it. Like I said, it was early. And if anyone had been staying overnight, wouldn’t they have found more bodies?”
“Did you see anyone in the neighborhood? Anyone who isn’t normally here. Or any unusual vehicles?”
“No.”
“Did you notice if any of his windows were open that morning?”
“No. I went out to get the mail. Then I heard the sirens. I didn’t see anything. Why all the questions? You’re not a cop. Are you from the insurance company?”
“Me? No. I’m just naturally curious.”