Once they were back on Main Street the phone directed them to the east, away from the center of town. The hotel was near the river, to the north. It wasn’t far as the crow flies but a ridge of trees meant there was no direct route. The sun was low in the sky. Dense branches overhead cut the available daylight further. The road was quiet. They didn’t see another vehicle for five minutes. Then a car appeared. It came closer and the shape of a lightbar solidified on its roof. It passed them. Its roof bar lit up. The narrow corridor between the trees started to pulse with red and blue. Then the car turned and sped back toward the truck.
Hannah said, “Oh, please, no. What now? What do we do?”
Reacher said, “There’s nothing to worry about. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We haven’t? Those six guys you beat up might tell a different story.”
“They’re not here. And they’re in no position to call 911. Trust me. This is just routine bullshit. It’s going to be fine.”
“What if it isn’t?”
Reacher said nothing.
Hannah pulled the truck over to the side of the road. The police car tucked in behind with its lights still flashing. The cop stayed inside for a couple more minutes. Reacher didn’t know if he was checking something, calling for reinforcements, or just trying to play mind games. He didn’t care which, as long as the cop didn’t keep it up for too long. He didn’t want his burgers to get cold.
The cop finally climbed out and approached the driver’s window. He lifted his hand. The knuckle of his middle finger was extended, ready to knock, but Hannah buzzed the window down before he made contact with the glass.
The cop said, “Good afternoon, s… miss. Do you know why I pulled you over?”
Hannah shook her head. “I have no idea. I wasn’t speeding.” She glanced across at Reacher. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’re driving a vehicle registered to an individual who, according to official records, is currently deceased.”
“Currently? Are you expecting that to change?”
The cop took a deep breath. “I’ll put this plainly. Why are you driving a dead man’s truck?”
“The dead man was my ex-husband. We were close. I had permission. I’m on his insurance. And I’m due to inherit the truck as soon as his will is read.”
“Your name, miss?”
“Hannah Hampton-Roth.”
“ID?”
“In my purse. OK if I get it?”
“Go ahead.”
Hannah took her purse from the backseat, rummaged in it for a moment, and pulled out her wallet. She opened it, then passed her driver’s license to the cop.
The cop studied the license for a moment then said, “Registration? Insurance?”
Hannah leaned across to the passenger side, opened the glove box, and took out a clear plastic pocket. The documents were inside. She straightened and handed it out of the window.
The cop said, “Wait here.” Then he walked back to his car.
Hannah stretched for the keys to switch the engine off but Reacher took her hand.
He said, “Leave it running. If the cop has his gun drawn when he gets back out, floor it. Same applies if another police cruiser shows up. Or anything that could be an unmarked car.”
The cop stayed in his car for five long minutes then returned to Hannah’s window. His gun was still in its holster. He handed the documents and the license back and said, “You’re a long way from home, miss. What brings you to Winson?”
Hannah tucked the license back into her wallet and handed the plastic pocket to Reacher. “My ex-husband has – had – friends here. I need to let them know that Sam has passed. That’s better done in person than on the phone or email, don’t you think?”
“Who were his friends?”
“Angela St. Vrain. Danny Peel. They worked with Sam before Angela and Danny moved out here.”
“Will you be staying with one of them tonight?”
“No. We’ll go to a hotel.”
“Which one?”
“We’re–”
“Still working on that,” Reacher said.
The cop said, “You didn’t think to make a reservation before you left Colorado?”
Reacher said, “No.”
“What if you’d come all this way and the hotels were all full?”
“Is that a common problem here?”
The cop was silent for a moment then he nodded toward the rear of the truck. “What happened to your window?”
Hannah sighed. “Some asshole kids tried to break in.”
“When?”
“Earlier this afternoon. At the rest area, on I-20.”
“Kids did this?”
“That’s right.”
“Did they steal anything?”
“They saw us walking back after we used the bathrooms and they ran.”
“Did you file a police report?”
“I didn’t think there was any point. We didn’t get a good look at the kids. I wouldn’t have been able to give much of a description.”
“And your tailgate?”
“What about it?”
“It has a bullet hole. Someone take a shot at you?”
Hannah shook her head. “At us? No. Sam, my ex, he was a keen marksman. He was at a range outside of town one day last week and a newbie had an accidental discharge in the parking lot when he was getting his gun out of his vehicle safe.”
“Did Sam file a report?”
“He figured there was no need. It was an accident. No one got hurt. The guy paid for the damage. If that was wrong, you can’t blame Sam. It’s up to the club to make sure the rules are followed.”
“What’s the name of the club?”
“I don’t know. I never went. Sam just called it The Gun Club. He was a corrections officer. A lot of his co-workers are members, too. It’s owned by a retired cop. I’m sure he did the right thing.”
The cop thought for a moment. Then he said, “All right. You can go. But you need to turn the truck around.”
“Thank you. But why?”
“You need somewhere to stay. The best hotel around here is the Winson Garden. It’s easy to find. Follow signs for the prison, then take a left onto Mole Street. I’ll follow. Make sure you don’t get lost.”
No one was going to come and help him. He had to face reality. So Jed Starmer forced himself onto his feet. He couldn’t stay where he was. He was too visible. At least two officers had been searching for him in Jackson. Pretty soon they would accept he had given them the slip. They would have no choice. Then they would have only one place left to look. Jed’s final destination. Winson. Which could only be reached via the road he was currently loitering right next to.
Jed still had no idea how he was going to get to the summit. He could barely stand. He felt like someone had stolen his leg bones and replaced them with modeling clay. His stomach was hurting. He couldn’t look at any object without the thing’s edges blurring and its colors twisting and dancing like it was on fire. He was a hot mess. He knew that. And he knew one other thing. He had come too far to be defeated by a hill.
Jed figured he had a couple of factors on his side. Time. And trees. There were more than twelve hours before he had to be in Winson. All he needed was rest. And someplace where he couldn’t be seen from the road. He hobbled across to the bike, which was still lying on its side. Heaved it up onto its wheels. Pushed it over to the long grass at the edge of the shoulder. Set it down. Took another couple of steps. And stopped.
Jed needed rest. But he also needed to be safe. He was heading into a forest. There could be wolves lurking around. Maybe alligators. Maybe coyotes. Maybe in giant bloodthirsty packs. Jed didn’t know what kinds of predators they had in Mississippi. And he didn’t want to find out the hard way. So he was going to have to pick his refuge with extra care.