another ten to get back to Froelich’s house. Her street was
crowded with parked cars. They looked like they were asleep,
dark and still and inert and heavily dewed with cold mist. The
Suburban was more than eighteen feet long and they had to go
two whole blocks before they found a space big enough for it.
They locked it up and walked back together in the chill. Made it
to the house and opened the door and stepped inside. The
lights were still on. The heating was still running hard. Froelich
paused in the hallway.
‘Are we OK?’ she asked. ‘About earlier?’
‘We’re fine,’ he said.
‘I just don’t want us to get our signals mixed.’
‘I don’t think they’re mixed.’
‘I’m sorry I disagreed with you,’ she said. ‘About the
demonstration.’
‘It’s your call,’ he said. ‘Only you can make it.’
‘I had other boyfriends,’ she said. ‘You know, after.’
He said nothing.
‘And Joe had other girlfriends,’ she said. ‘He wasn’t all that
shy, really.’
‘But he left his stuff here.’
‘Does that matter?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Got to mean something.’
‘He’s dead, Reacher.Nothing can affect him now.’
‘I know.’
She was quiet for a second.
‘I’m going to make tea,’ she said. ‘You want some?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m going to bed.’
She stepped into the living room on her way to the kitchen
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and he walked upstairs. Closed the guest room door quietly
behind him and opened up the closet. Stripped off Joe’s suit and
put it back on the wire dry cleaner’s hanger. Hung it on the rail.
Took off the tie and rolled it and put it back on the shelf. Took
off the shirt and dropped it on the closet floor. He didn’t need to
save it. There were four more on the rail, and he didn’t expect
to be around longer than four more days. He peeled off the
socks and dropped them on top of the shirt. Walked into
the bathroom wearing only his boxers.
He took his time in there and when he came out Froelich was
standing in the guest room doorway. Wearing a nightgown. It
was white cotton. Longer than a T-shirt, but not a whole lot
longer. The hallway light behind her made it transparent. Her
hair was tousled. Without shoes she looked smaller. Without
makeup she looked younger. She had great legs. A wonderful
shape. She looked soft and firm, all at the same time.
‘He broke up with me,’ she said. ‘It was his choice, not mine.’
‘Why?’
‘He met somebody he preferred.’
‘Who?’
‘Doesn’t matter who. Nobody you ever heard of. Just somebody.’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’
‘Denial, I guess,’ she said. Frying to protect myself, maybe.
And trying to protect his memory in front of his brother.’
‘He wasn’t nice about it?’
‘Not very.’
‘How did it happen?’
‘He just told me one day.’
‘And walked out?’
‘We weren’t really living together. He spent time here, I spent
time there, but we always kept separate places. His stuff is still
here because I wouldn’t let him come back to get it. I wouldn’t
let him in the door. I was hurt and angry with him.’
‘I guess you would be.’
She shrugged. The hem of her nightgown rode up an inch on
her thigh.
‘No, it was silly of me,’ she said. ‘I mean, it’s not like things
like that never happen, is it? It was just a relationship that
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started and then finished. Hardly unique in human history.
Hardly unique in my history. And half the times it was me who
did the walking away.’
‘Why are you telling me?’
‘You know why,’ she said.
He nodded. Didn’t speak.
‘So you can start with a blank slate,’ she said, ‘How you react
to me can be about you and me, not about you and me and Joe.
He took himself out of the picture. It was his choice. So it’s
none of his business, even if he was still around.’
He nodded again.
‘But how blank is your slate?’ he asked.
‘He was a great guy,’ she said. ‘I loved him once. But you’re
not him. You’re a separate person. I know that. I’m not looking