Child, Lee – Without Fail

again. Neagley turned and waved. Froelich and Stuyvesant and

Reacher climbed out of the Suburban and walked up the path.

There was a small dark guy standing in the doorway, waiting for

them, smiling shyly.

q’his is Mr Gilvez,’ Neagley said. They introduced them

selves and Gilvez backed into the hallway and made a follow-me

gesture with the whole of his arm, like a butler. He was a small

guy dressed in suit pants and a patterned sweater. He had a

fresh haircut and an open expression. They followed him inside.

The house was small and clearly overcrowded, but it was very

clean. There was a line of seven children’s coats hung neatly on

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a row of pegs inside the door. Some of them were small, some

of them were a little bigger. There were seven school backpacks

lined up on the floor underneath them. Seven pairs of

shoes. There were toys neatly piled here and there. Three

women visible in the kitchen. Shy children peering out from

behind their skirts. More easing their heads round the living

room door. They kept moving. Kept appearing and disappearing

in random sequences. They all looked the same. Reacher

couldn’t get an accurate count. There were dark eyes everywhere,

open wide.

Stuyvesant seemed a little out of his depth, like he didn’t know

how to broach the subject. Reacher squeezed past him and

moved ahead towards the kitchen. Stopped in the doorway.

There were seven school lunch boxes lined up on a counter.

The lids were up, like they were ready for assembly-line loading

first thing in the morning. He moved back to the hallway.

Squeezed past Neagley and looked at the little coats. They were

all colourful nylon items, like small versions of the things he

had browsed in the Atlantic City store. He lifted one off its peg.

It had a white patch inside the collar. Somebody had used a

laundry marker and written J. Glvez on it in careful script. He

put it back and checked the other six. Each was labelled with a

surname and a single initial. Total of five Gddvez and two Alvrez.

Nobody was speaking. Stuyvesant looked awkward. Reacher

caught Mr Gfilvez’s eye and nodded him through to the living

room. Two children scuttled out as they stepped in.

‘You got five kids?’ Reacher asked.

Gfilvez nodded. ‘I’m a lucky man.’

‘So who do the two Alvfirez coats belong to?’

‘My wife’s cousin Julio’s children.’

‘Julio and Anita’s?’

Glvez nodded. Said nothing.

‘I need to see them,’ Reacher said.

Fhey’re not here.’

Reacher glanced away. ‘Where are they?’ he asked quietly.

‘I don’t know,’ Glvez said. ‘At work, I guess. They work

nights. For the federal government.’

Reacher glanced back. ‘No, I mean their kids. Not them. I

need to see their kids.’

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Gfilvez looked at him, puzzled. ‘See their kids?’

‘To check they’re OK.’

‘You just saw them. In the kitchen.’

‘I need to see which ones they are exactly.’

‘We’re not taking money,’ Gfilvez said. ‘Except for their food.’

Reacher nodded. ¢Fhis isn’t about licences or anything. We

don’t care about that stuff. We just need to see their kids are

OK.’

Gfilvez still looked puzzled. But he called out a long rapid

sentence in Spanish and two small children separated themselves

from the group in the kitchen and threaded between

Stuyvesant and Froelich and trotted into the room. They

stopped near the doorway and stood perfectly still, side by side.

Two little girls, very beautiful, huge dark eyes, soft black hair,

serious expressions. Maybe five and seven years old. Maybe

four and six. Maybe three and five. Reacher had no idea.

‘Hey, kids,’ he said. ‘Show me your coats.’

They did exactly what they were told, the way kids sometimes

do. He followed them out to the hallway and watched as

they stood up on tiptoe and touched the two little jackets he

knew were marked Alvrez.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘Now go get a cookie or something.’

They scuttled back to the kitchen. He watched them go.

Stood still and quiet for a second and then stepped back to the

living room. Got close to Gfilvez and lowered his voice again.

‘Anybody else been enquiring about them?’ he asked.