She didn’t envy him. He had to be cold and wet out there. She returned her full attention to the foggy road ahead, both hands firmly on the steering wheel.
“Yeah, the town’s not that small, Chico,” Kim replied, “I guess they do have some sort of local law enforcement. The current mayor is the former sheriff. She worked with Reacher on the last case of his army career.”
Gaspar whistled, low and slow. “Reacher’s last case? We never found anything about that in the army files before. Where did you get the intel? Not Cooper.”
Since he’d retired, Gaspar had taken to calling the Boss by his name, Charles Cooper. Guess Gaspar figured he could do as he pleased now. She felt a little twinge of envy. Kim hadn’t been free to do as she pleased in years. Hell, maybe she’d never been that free.
“The Boss gave me what I have, such as it is.” She glanced into the rearview mirror again and frowned.
The motorcycle edged out around her to pass. When he had a view of the oncoming lane, he drifted back into position behind her SUV. Almost like he was hiding there or something.
“So the file’s been redacted. Which means you’ve got much less information than you should have,” Gaspar said harshly, fingers clacking keys as he talked. “I see you sent me the files. I’ll take a look. Meanwhile, give me the highlights.”
“Reacher was down here undercover. There’s an army base in Carter’s Crossing. Kelham, it’s called.”
The noise of the red motorcycle’s engine was like an annoyingly large mosquito buzzing loud as a chainsaw too close to her ear.
“I’ve heard of it. Back in my army days. Kind of a down-and-out place full of misfits and castoffs, if I recall correctly. Never knew where it was, though,” Gaspar replied. He sounded like he’d kicked back and crossed his ankles, which was his favorite thinking position. “What was Reacher doing there?”
The buzzing chainsaw was too loud and too annoying. She tried to ignore it.
“An army captain with a powerful daddy was suspected of some kind of involvement with the murder of three local women. Reacher was sent down to figure that out.”
She wished the red speedster would just pass already and get on with going wherever he needed to be in such a damned hurry.
“I see,” Gaspar said harshly. “Did Reacher figure things out? The murders, I mean?”
“Presumably. The file’s unclear on that point. But I’ll be asking the mayor about the specifics.”
“Doesn’t make sense,” Gaspar said.
“What doesn’t?”
“Doesn’t seem like a situation that should have booted Reacher from the army. It’s not easy to get rid of an officer like Reacher. Once you get to a certain level, they don’t usually kick you out,” Gaspar replied.
“It’s all murky. You’ll see when you read the files. Some of it was bad timing. The army was bloated back then.” She glanced into the rearview mirror and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “They needed to pare down. Reacher was a major and majors were too plentiful. They were looking to weed a few from the garden. He was expendable.”
The big rig ahead was slowing again, but she couldn’t see the cause. Maybe he was planning to turn. She slowed her speed and tried to release tension in her shoulders.
“Or unlucky. Depending on how you look at it. Can’t imagine he was happy about leaving,” Gaspar said.
“Hard to say. Reacher’s a pragmatic guy. He was probably okay with it. It’s not like they gave him a choice.”
The motorcycle kept nosing out into the passing lane and then falling back, inching closer to her bumper every time. His recklessness made her nervous.
She said, “I mean, Reacher leaving the army on his own two feet was a lot better than a court-martial and incarceration at Leavenworth.”
“Was that the choice they gave him?” Gaspar didn’t say the options were unlikely. Because he knew deals like that had been made before.
Kim said, “Not in so many words. But reading between the lines, I’d say those were the two most likely alternatives.”
She noticed the semi slowing as it approached a crossroads ahead.
Traffic on the narrow two-lane county road was supposed to stop before entering US 72. She couldn’t see any reason to slow down. US 72 had the right of way.
The truck driver had no doubt traveled this way many times before. He seemed uncertain about traffic crossing the highway. He probably had a good reason.
Miles back, she’d passed a small sign pointed vaguely north along the county road toward a small town called Hopewell. But now, at this crossroads, no signs pointed to a town in any direction.
The motorcyclist seemed to notice the truck driver’s behavior a bit late. The cyclist ran up almost to Kim’s bumper before he backed off slightly.
If she barely tapped the breaks, the cyclist would hit the back of her Lexus.
She sucked in her breath and continued to slow without braking.
“Back off,” she whispered.
The driver of the red sport bike, or whatever it was, had to know the reality.
Motorcycle hits vehicle. Motorcycle loses. Motorcycle driver, too.
Simple as that.
“What the hell did Reacher do to get kicked out of the army?” Gaspar mused as if he truly couldn’t fathom such a thing. She imagined him swiping a palm over his face and shaking his head.
She tried to focus on the conversation and her driving at the same time. Her hands cramped because she gripped the steering wheel too tight.
She said, “It’s possible he killed four people. Two of them army officers. And he definitely disobeyed orders. But mainly, he pissed off the wrong guys.”
Gaspar chuckled without mirth. “So what else is new?”
The crossroad was closer now. The eighteen-wheeler continued to slow and Kim slowed behind him.
The big rig was carrying a lot of weight.
Which meant the tractor slowed gradually and would need to pull hard to get everything moving again on the other side of the crossroad.
Which also meant she might have a chance to pass the eighteen-wheeler after the intersection.
She edged around the boxy trailer for a better view and peered eastward into the gloom.
Which was when she had a clear sight line to the crossroad.
She could see the problem.
A small, silver sedan rolled to the intersection.
What would the little car do next?
The trucker’s lack of faith in local traffic conditions paid off.
A pair of wobbly headlights crossed the first eastbound traffic lane and then, instead of going across the median to the second set of lanes, it turned west onto the eastbound fast travel lane.
Meaning the little car was heading into oncoming traffic directly toward the big rig and the vehicles driving behind it.
Kim gripped the wheel tighter and slowed her speed.
US 72 was a divided highway, which meant the confused driver of the little silver sedan, barely visible in the rainy gray gloom, was traveling in the wrong direction.
There was nowhere for the silver sedan to turn around, even if the driver realized the mistake.
Which might have been okay. Because the two eastbound traffic lanes were wide enough. If the sedan stayed in its lane. And the line of traffic following the truck stayed in line. Then, they could all pass each other safely and continue in opposite directions.