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“I think he wanted to be the one who helped you out, all those years ago. He seemed very nostalgic about your time together at Fort Lost in the Woods. Almost emotional. You inspire a lot of loyalty, Turner. It’s a fine quality for an officer to have.”
“You’re only saying nice things because I let you take me to bed.”
“That part helps, I got to admit.”
He felt her smile against his chest, and then she murmured something he didn’t catch, and then she fell asleep, breathing low and slow and quiet.
—
They woke up when the morning light came in strong around the window blind. Just after eight o’clock. Very late. She got up. He stayed in bed, basking in the warmth. A great night, not least for the deep and dreamless sleep. He felt rested. He watched dust motes dancing in the sunbeams. He listened to the shower running. Eventually he rolled out of bed. She came out of the bathroom wearing a towel. He paused a beat. She smiled, but shook her head. He took her place in the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, took his shower, got dressed. Twelve minutes, beginning to end. Ready to face the day. Eight thirty in the morning.
Turner said, “I bet Elwood has already run a half marathon and joined a local gym.”
“And reorganized it to run more efficiently.”
They stepped outside and saw Elwood way down the row, leaning on his car. He was reading his phone. Too polite to come knock on their door. They walked down to join him. He held out his phone, so they could see the screen. It was showing a news report. A local TV affiliate’s website. Top stories. The headline said Local Attorney Found Slain in Menlo Park Residence. The story under it said a Palo Alto attorney named Hugo Blackwell had been found deceased by his housekeeper at the start of her day. Cause of death, gunshot wounds. Time of death, maybe midnight. The Menlo Park Police Department was calling it an attempted burglary gone wrong.
“Well, he didn’t last long,” Turner said.
“Rookie mistake,” Elwood said. “He went home to get something. His passport, probably. Or cash from his safe. Maybe he had an actual go-bag packed. The new crew was waiting for him. He walked right into it. Really dumb.”
“I’m glad,” Turner said. “Karma for Julia and the baby.”
“We should have done it ourselves,” Reacher said.
“We did,” Elwood said. “We knew what would happen.”
Elwood put his phone in his pocket.
“Where’s the best coffee in town?” Turner asked.
“Where I met the journalist,” Reacher said. “An old-fashioned place.”
“Does it have food?”
“It probably has a kitchen in back. If not, I’ll have a muffin and you can have a banana.”
“I’m hungry.”
“OK, two bananas.”
“How far away is it?”
“Twenty minute walk, maybe.”
“Parking?” Elwood asked.
“On the street, I’m sure. The fancy stores aren’t open yet.”
“Then let’s drive. Twenty minutes is a long walk. I’m hungry too.”
—
They got a meter bay outside the shiny store to the left of the coffee shop. Reacher looked in the window. It was breakfast time but the place was less crowded than it had been in the afternoon the day before. There were some empty tables. The rest were occupied by the same kind of clientele as before. Plenty of laptop computers and face up phones. Some paperwork. Plenty of cups and saucers and half-empty plates. Judging by the debris at least eggs and bacon were on the menu. Plus pancakes and pastries. No visible bananas. Reacher hoped Turner wouldn’t be disappointed.
One of the customers with his back to the window was wearing a familiar crumpled blue sport coat. Brown shoes and ratty tan pants. Thick dark hair going gray. He was hunched over a laptop computer, staring at the screen. Same table as before.
“That’s the guy,” Reacher said. “That’s Mr. Adam Tow, the journalist. We don’t need to call him after all. I guess he uses this place as his office.”
