put his new shoes on and used the discarded tissue paper to
scrub the scuffs off them. Stood up straight and walked back
to the mirror. The suit fitted very well. It was maybe a fraction long in the arms and legs, because he was a fraction shorter
than Joe had been. And it was maybe a fraction tight, because
he was a little heavier. But overall he looked very impressive
in it. Like a completely different person. Older. More authoritative.
More serious. More like Joe.
He bent down and picked up the cardboard box from the
closet floor. It was heavy. Then he heard a sound down in
the hallway. Somebody out on the step, knocking on the
front door. He put the box back under the hanging rail and
headed down the stairs. Opened up. It was Froelich. She was
standing in the evening mist with her hand raised ready to
knock again. Light from the street behind her put her face in
shadow.
‘I gave you my key,’ she said.
He stepped back and she stepped in. Looked up and froze.
She fumbled behind her back and pushed the door shut and
leaned hard up against it. Just stared at him. Something in her
eyes. Shock, fear, panic, loss, he didn’t know.
‘What?’ he said.
‘I thought you were Joe,’ she said. ‘Just for a second.’
Her eyes filled with tears and she laid her head back
against the wood of the door. She blinked against the tears and
looked at him again and started crying hard. He stood still for a
second and then stepped forward and took her in his arms. She
dropped her purse and burrowed into his chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I tried on his suit.’
She said nothing. Just cried.
‘Stupid, I guess,’ he said.
She moved her head, but he couldn’t tell if she was saying yes, it was or no, it wasn’t. She locked her arms around his body
and just held on. He put one hand low on her back and used the
other to smooth her hair. He held her like that for minutes. She
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fought the tears and then gulped twice and pulled away. Swiped
at her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘Not your fault,’ she said.
He said nothing.
‘You looked so real. I bought him that tie.’
‘I should have thought,’ Reacher said.
She ducked down to her purse and came back with a tissue.
Blew her nose and smoothed her hair.
‘Oh, God,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll be OK.’
He said nothing.
‘You looked so good, is all,’ she said. ‘Just standing there.’
She was staring at him quite openly. Then she reached out
and straightened his tie. Touched a spot on his shirt where her
tears had dampened it. Ran her fingers behind the lapels of his
jacket. Stepped forward on tiptoe and locked her hands behind
his neck and kissed him on the mouth.
‘So good,’ she said, and kissed him again, hard.
He held still for a second and then kissed her back. Hard.
Her mouth was cool. Her tongue was swift. She tasted faintly of
lipstick. Her teeth were small and smooth. He could smell
perfume on her skin and in her hair. He put one hand low on
her side and the other behind her head. He could feel her
breasts against his chest. Her ribs, yielding slightly under his
hand. Her hair, between his fingers. Her hand was cold and
urgent on the back of his neck. Her fingers were raking upward
into the stubble from his haircut. He could feel her nails on his
skin. He slid his hand up her back. Then she stopped moving.
Held still. Pulled away. She was breathing heavily. Her eyes
were closed. She touched the back of her hand to her mouth.
‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she said.
He looked at her. ‘Probably not,’ he said.
She opened her eyes.Said nothing. ‘So what should we do?’ he asked.
She moved sideways and stepped into her living room. ‘I
don’t know,’ she said. ‘Eat dinner, I guess. Did you wait?’
He followed her into the room. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I waited.’