The Affair_ A Reacher Novel - Lee Child [28]
Frazer paused. “How sick?”
“Potentially very sick.”
“Gut feeling? Is it anything to do with Kelham?”
“Too early to say.”
“Help me out here, Reacher. Best guess?”
“At this stage, I’d say no. No military involvement.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“It’s only a guess,” I said. “Don’t break out the cigars just yet.”
I didn’t go back to bed. No point. Too late. I just brushed my teeth and showered and chewed some gum and got fully dressed. Then I stood by my window and watched the dawn. The creeping daylight enlarged the world. I saw Main Street in all its detailed glory. I saw scrub and fields and forest extending in every direction.
Then I sat in my chair to wait. I figured I would hear Deveraux go out to her car. I was more or less right above where it was parked at the curb.
Chapter
16
I heard Deveraux leave the hotel at twenty past seven exactly. First the street door creaked open and slammed shut, and then her car door creaked open and slammed shut. I got up and looked out the window. She was behind the wheel, low in the seat, in what looked like a clean version of the same uniform she had worn the day before. Her riot of hair was still wet from the shower. She was talking on the radio. Probably telling Pellegrino that job one for the day was to haul my ass halfway back to Memphis.
I went down the stairs and stepped out to the sidewalk. The morning air was fresh and cold. I looked up the street and saw that Deveraux’s car was parked again, right outside the diner. So far, so good. I walked in that direction and pushed in through the door, past the pay phone, past the hostess station. There were six customers inside, including Deveraux. The other five were men, four of them in work clothes and the fifth in a pale-colored suit. A professional gentleman. Maybe a country lawyer or a country doctor, or the guy that ran the loan office next to Brannan’s bar. The waitress was the same woman as the night before. She was busy toting plates of food, so I didn’t wait for her. I just walked up to Deveraux’s table and said, “Would you mind if I joined you?”
She was sipping coffee. She didn’t have her food yet. She smiled and said, “Good morning.”
Her tone was warm. She seemed happy to see me.
I said, “Yes, good morning.”
She said, “Have you come to say goodbye? That’s very polite and very formal.”
I said nothing in reply to that. She did her thing with her foot again, under the table, and kicked the facing chair out. I sat down. She asked, “Did you sleep well?”
I said, “Fine.”
“The train didn’t wake you at midnight? It takes some getting used to.”
“I was still up,” I said.
“Doing what?”
“This and that,” I said.
“Inside or out?”
“Out,” I said.
“You found the crime scene?”
I nodded.
She nodded in turn.
“And you found two things of note,” she said. “So you thought you’d stop by and make sure I appreciated their significance before you got on your way. That’s very public-spirited of you.”
The waitress came by and put a heaping plate of French toast on the table. Then she turned to me and I ordered the same thing, with coffee. Deveraux waited until she was gone, and asked, “Or was it entirely private-spirited? Is this your one last attempt to protect the army before you go?”
“I’m not going,” I said.
She smiled again. “Are you going to give me your civil rights speech now? Free country, and all that bullshit?”
“Something like that.”
She paused a beat.
“I’m all for civil rights,” she said. “And certainly there’s room at the inn, as they say. So sure, by all means, please stay. Enjoy yourself. There are trails to hike, and there are things to hunt, and there are sights to see. Knock yourself out. Do whatever you want to. Just don’t get between me and my investigation.”
I asked her, “How do you explain the two things?”
“Do I need to? To you?”
“Two heads are better than one.”
“I can’t trust you,” she said. “You’re