Echo burning. A Jack Reacher Novel. Lee Child

“I changed my mind,” she said. “I don’t want you to talk to him. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“It might set him off. If he knows somebody else knows.”

“You didn’t think that before.”

“I thought it over again. I think it might be worse, if we start out like that. It’s better coming from me. At least at first.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. “Let me talk to him, the first time.”

“When?”

“Tonight,” she said. “I’ll tell you tomorrow how it went.”

He sat up, with both feet on the ground.

“You were pretty sure you’d have a busted nose tomorrow,” he said.

“I think this is best,” she said.

“Why did you change your clothes?”

“These are better,” she said. “I don’t want to provoke him.”

“You look like a cowgirl, born in Amarillo.”

“He likes me like this.”

“And dressing like who you are would provoke him?”

She made a face. A defeated face, he thought.

“Don’t chicken out, Carmen,” he said. “Stand and fight instead.”

“I will,” she said. “Tonight. I’ll tell him I’m not going to take it anymore.”

He said nothing.

“So don’t talk to him today, O.K.?” she said.

He looked away.

“It’s your call,” he said.

“It’s better this way.”

She went back into the house. Reacher stared north at the road. Sitting down, he could see a mile less of it. The heat was up, and the shimmer was starting.

She woke him again after another hour. The clothes were the same, but she had removed the makeup.

“You think I’m doing this wrong,” she said.

He sat up and rubbed both hands over his face, like he was washing.

“I think it would be better out in the open,” he said. “He should know somebody else knows. If not me, then his family, maybe.”

“I can’t tell them.”

“No, I guess you can’t.”

“So what should I do?”

“You should let me talk to him.”

“Not right away. It would be worse. Promise me you won’t.”

He nodded.

“It’s your call,” he said. “But you promise me something, O.K.? Talk to him yourself, tonight. For sure. And if he starts anything, get out of the room and just scream your head off until we all come running. Scream the place down. Demand the cops. Shout for help. It’ll embarrass him. It’ll change the dynamic.”

“You think?”

“He can’t pretend it isn’t happening, not if everybody hears you.”

“He’ll deny it. He’ll say I was just having a nightmare.”

“But deep inside, he’ll know we know.”

She said nothing.

“Promise me, Carmen,” he said. “Or I’ll talk to him first.”

She was quiet for a moment.

“O.K., I promise you,” she said.

He settled back on the swing and tried to doze another hour. But his internal clock was telling him the time was getting near. The way he remembered the maps of Texas, Abilene was probably less than seven hours from Echo County. Probably nearer six, for a driver who was a DA and therefore a part of the law enforcement community and therefore relatively unconcerned about speeding tickets. So assuming Sloop got out at seven without any delay, they could be home by one o’clock. And he probably would get out without any delay, because a minimum-security federal facility wouldn’t have a whole lot of complicated procedures. They’d just make a check mark on a clipboard and cut him loose.

He guessed it was nearly twelve and looked at his watch to confirm it. It was one minute past. He saw Bobby come out of the horse barn and start up the track past the car barn. He was carrying his breakfast plate, blinking in the sun, walking like his limbs were stiff. He crossed the yard and stepped up on the porch. Said nothing. Just walked on into the house and closed the door behind him.

About twelve-thirty, Ellie came wandering up from the direction of the corrals. Her yellow dress was all covered in dirt and sand. Her hair was matted with it and her skin was flushed from the heat.

“I’ve been jumping,” she said. “I pretend I’m a horse and I go around and around the jumps as fast as I can.”

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