by Diane Capri
“I told you when you asked me the first time. An informal disciplinary issue with tardiness two days in a row. That’s all. I didn’t even make a note in his file. Just between him and me.” He raised his hand and flipped his fingers as if to dust me off. Then he raised his coffee cup. “You notice he’s not sitting out there and bringing you coffee today.”
I nodded. That’s what I remembered about him. Church was late. Two days in a row.
Which made sense. The Boss had set up my appointment at the last minute. Church must have learned that Summer would be driving down the Interstate to Fort Bird from Rock Creek. He probably knew her appointment was with me and he knew why. Tony Clifton might even have told him.
So the first day, Church was late because he was scouting the sniper’s nest. Finding the right spot to lie in wait for Summer. Judging the terrain, the wind direction, the difficulty of the shot. Maybe he even took a few practice shots, although that might have been too risky. I made a mental note to ask Sheriff Taylor if anyone had reported damage that might have come from practice rounds.
The second day, I figured Church was late because instead of coming to work, he’d gone to his nest and lay in wait until Summer drove past, and then he killed her.
When I saw Church limping that day in the Officers Club, it might have been because he’d pulled a muscle or something. The terrain was rough out there. He’d have been in a hurry to get back to Bird before I arrived for my appointment with Summer.
The scenario was more than plausible.
“Surely you don’t get involved whenever a soldier has a minor issue with his boss,” I said. “Why did you take such a personal interest in Sergeant Church?”
Tony cleared his throat and shrugged. “Matthew asked me to look after him.”
I leaned in further. “Why?”
“Church’s father had been a friend of Matt’s. Matt never married and had no kids of his own. Like me, he was married to the Army. So when Church’s father died, Matt took an interest in the boy.” He cleared his throat again and glanced down briefly to blink. “I guess Matt was the father Church never had.”
This next bit was tricky. I’d gone over it in my head a few times, but subjects don’t always respond the way I imagine they will. To change the dynamic slightly, I sniffed the air and pretended to notice the aroma.
I nodded toward his mug. “Any chance we can get some of that great coffee? Who knows when we’ll get another opportunity?”
Tony stood and left the room without a word.
CHAPTER 33
He came back with three mugs and placed them on the desk like Sergeant Church had done that first day. I remembered Church had seemed annoyed at his post. His hair had been wet, too. Why hadn’t I noticed that? Because it didn’t matter so much at the time.
While Tony resettled on the other side of the desk, we picked up our mugs and I sipped mine. Gaspar held his and didn’t drink because Tony hadn’t mixed a gallon of milk and a cup full of sugar into it.
“Thank you.” The coffee here really was outstanding. Drinking it was no chore at all. “You mentioned Church’s father when I was here before. Said his dad had been the CO of the 110th for a while. Reacher’s Special Investigations unit. Remember that?”
Tony nodded.
“Well, I checked the records. There was never a CO named Church, according to the Army.”
His eyes widened and he gave his head a couple of vigorous shakes. “Of course there was. Matt knew him. They served in Armored Division together. I already told you that.”
“I did some more checking and I found out that Sergeant James Church’s name was changed when he was about five years old.” I settled back in my chair and propped my elbows on the chair arms. “His parents had a nasty divorce. His mother changed back to her maiden name and changed the boy’s name, too. As if to erase all traces of his father.”
Gaspar had pushed his chair back and extended his legs, crossed at the ankles, and folded his hands in his lap. He looked completely relaxed. “Guy must have been a total jerk for her to do that, don’t you think?”
Tony shrugged. “Matt said he was a difficult guy. Not well liked. But he did the job and followed his orders.”
I relaxed further into my chair as if we were chatting about nothing important. “I noticed where Church was when General Clifton died. Did you?”
Tony nodded. “He was standing right next to me on the platform. He was on the megaphone, handling the demonstrations. Why?”
“He lives off post, I’m told. Where is he right now?” I glanced out the window, where the winter sun cast an orange glow over the pines.
He shrugged and drank his coffee. “I’m not his CO. On base somewhere, I guess. Where else would he be?”
“Call him in here. Let’s see if we’re mistaken.” I looked back at Tony and offered a slow smile. “If we’re wrong, we can clear everything up and I’ll take all of the heat.”
He paused briefly before he picked up the phone and asked an MP to find Sergeant Church. “What do you think he’s done?”
“Before we left Fort Herald, we asked the Provost to pull the sentry logs for November 19, the day of Summer’s death. We’ve been looking through them for the past half hour. The logs confirm that Church logged out at 0710 and returned at 1030 hours.” I watched for a dawning recognition, but it didn’t come. “Eyewitnesses put Summer’s time of death at approximately 0930. During Church’s absence.”
He stared at me as if I’d suddenly sprouted horns. “You think Church killed Colonel Summer? What possible motive would he have to do that? He didn’t even know her.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I stood. “But he knew she was about to ruin General Clifton, didn’t he? He knew about her investigation and he knew she was the one who was pushing for his prosecution. She wanted General Clifton court-martialed and sent to Leavenworth, didn’t she?”
He flinched back. He seemed simply bewildered now. He rubbed the base of his neck. “That was her job. You said yourself that she wasn’t necessarily going to win that battle.”
I paced the small room, between the door and Gaspar’s chair. “The night of the shooting at The Lucky Bar, I told you all three of the day’s events were related. You said I was wrong.”
“I remember.”
“We were both wrong. I didn’t know enough about Summer’s work then. I thought the connections were all about Reacher.”
“Reacher?” He looked like he was staring into a lighted refrigerator in the middle of the dark night.
“Reacher was here for nineteen days. He touched every single person involved in this mess. Everybody from Alvin Barry to Madeline Jones to Jeffrey Mayne and more.” I stopped pacing and clasped my hands behind my back. “Everybody had some sort of beef with Reacher. The common link, I thought, was Jack Reacher.”
Tony frowned and pursed his lips for a second before he said, “Reacher hasn’t been here in twenty years.”
“We don’t know that for sure, do we? The truth is, nobody seems to know where Reacher is. And that’s the problem.”
He shook his head as if to clear it of sludge that clouded his brain. “Why on earth would any of these people care?”
“Now you’re getting to the heart of it. First, let’s assume somebody wanted to lure Reacher back to Fort Bird. How would they do it?”
Major Clifton lifted his shoulders and raised both hands, palms up.
“One thing about Reacher is crystal clear,” I told him. “Every person we’ve interviewed has said a version of the same thing. Even you.”
“What?”
“The Reacher brothers, Jack and Joe, were like clones. They looked alike. They talked alike. What did Matthew say about Joe? He was a hell of a guy. Both Reachers were intensely loyal. They took care of their friends. They did the right thing.”
He nodded with every sentence as I laid it out. “Yeah, so?”
“Reacher would come back to Fort Bird if he knew his friends were in trouble. He woul
d do the right thing, no matter what the cost.”
“What’s your point?”
“So what do you think Reacher would do if he found out a guy had killed one of his very close friends? A woman whose only goal in all of this was to do the right thing? A woman Reacher was having an affair with back in 1990?”
“Probably the same thing I would do. The same thing Joe would have done. He’d come and kill the son of a bitch.”
I nodded. If you knew anything at all about Jack Reacher, the logic was flawless.
“You’re saying Reacher and Summer were colleagues and lovers? That Church found out? And Church killed Summer to lure Reacher here?” Tony had set his mug on the desk and leaned on both forearms.
“And also because Church wanted to prevent Summer from hurting Matthew,” Gaspar added. “In his book, she was a hypocrite. She’d been AWOL with Reacher back then and they’d stolen Army vouchers to finance a little fling in Paris. Church must have felt she was corrupt and she sat in judgment of General Clifton, a man he admired like a father.”
Tony shook his head and sat back in his chair. “That’s crazy. Can you prove any of it?”
“Won’t have to,” I said. “Church will confess. He’s proud of what he’s done. And he’ll be prouder still if he can get Reacher to show his face back here before Taylor arrests him.”
“Why the hell would he want Reacher to come back here so badly?” Tony continued shaking his head as if he couldn’t make the marbles roll down the chutes inside his skull.
“That was the question I wrestled with, too,” I replied, sitting back with my coffee again to give him a little more space. “But Matthew told me before he died.”
The mention of his brother’s death stilled Tony. He’d latched onto the Church problem as a distraction, maybe. Bringing Matthew back to the front of his mind snapped his attention to sharp focus on his loss again.
“Matthew said Church’s father was a man who followed orders,” I explained. “But like I told you, his name wasn’t Church. His name was Willard. His last tour was CO of the 110th Special Operations Unit. Reacher’s unit. Do you know what happened to him?”
“Not specifically.”
“He was murdered.”
“And Sergeant Church blames Reacher?”
I nodded. “Sergeant Church believes Reacher is the enemy.”
CHAPTER 34
We watched as Sheriff Taylor interrogated Sergeant Church. He’d come in voluntarily when he heard about the BOLO on base. As I’d expected, the interrogation was short.
He admitted he’d killed Summer. He accused her of corruption and hypocrisy and sending a fine officer like Matthew Clifton to his death, exactly as I’d surmised.
He also admitted to helping General Clifton commit suicide, which seemed to shock Tony. He hadn’t noticed how unnaturally long Church had waited to order a ceasefire at the shooting range that day. Few had, and if they did, they doubted their recollections, figured the horror of those moments had warped their perceptions of the passage of time.
Church said General Clifton refused to die like a criminal.
Tony wanted to believe his brother might have lived if Church had ordered the ceasefire sooner. But I’d been watching closely. General Clifton was already dead the moment he stepped into the live fire on the shooting range. Might as well have slammed into a tanker driving ninety-seven miles an hour.
As it turned out, Church didn’t admit he’d been planning to kill Reacher. Maybe he thought he’d get another chance one of these days. Or maybe he had killed Reacher and disposed of the body already. It was certainly plausible. Time would tell.
But after he admitted killing Summer, his future plans were irrelevant. He’d get the maximum sentence, the death penalty. But he’d die of old age in Leavenworth like other soldiers sentenced to death—the precise fate General Clifton had refused to accept.
There would be no trial for Sergeant Church. The Army didn’t want to tarnish the top brass like Summer and Clifton. Church offered no defense, which meant the sentencing could be handled quietly and out of the media spotlight.
Sheriff Taylor, Tony, Gaspar and I gathered at The Lucky Bar after we heard Church’s confession. Jones joined us back at that table in the corner where the music wasn’t quite as overwhelming. She brought over five long-necks and joined us.
“I’m sorry about your brother, Tony.” She raised her bottle in a bittersweet salute. “General Clifton was a good man. I was proud to serve under him.”
He clinked his long-neck with hers and we all drank, even Gaspar.
Then Jones raised her bottle my way. “You’re a damn good cop, Otto. You ain’t no bigger than a minute. I confess, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I tilted the corner of my mouth up as if her words actually amused me and didn’t argue as we raised our bottles and clanked and sipped again.
“Alvin will be back to work tomorrow,” she said. “Doc says he’s got to take care of that bad wing. But he can do this job okay. We’ll all pitch in for the next couple of years until Junior gets out of jail.”
“It may not be that long, Maddie,” Sheriff Taylor said. “Mayne started the shooting. Junior wasn’t totally to blame.”
“I’m not blamin’ Junior.” Jones narrowed her eyes and drove a steely gaze into her beer bottle. “It was Reacher. He’s the one shoved that bullet up Mayne’s nose. He hadn’t done that, Mayne woulda been somewhere else instead of whining after that skinny dancer. Junior wouldn’t a needed to defend his daddy. None a this woulda happened.”
Everybody shrugged. Tony was right. She was as hard as woodpecker lips. If Reacher knew what was good for him, he’d never come within shooting distance of Sergeant Major Madeline Jones or The Lucky Bar again.
Gaspar and I said our farewells and left after one beer. We rode in silence on the drive back to the Raleigh airport. Gaspar must have had other things on his mind. His wife and coming son, maybe, and making sure none of his kids grew up without a father like Sergeant Church had done.
I fired up my laptop and wrote my reports. I added the new things I’d learned about Jack Reacher over the past five days. And what I’d learned about Joe Reacher, too.
Reacher had made enemies in the world. Those enemies were looking for him. Some of them like Sergeant Church had skewed perspectives, to be sure. But like Church, even the crazy ones could have the means to make him pay for the things he’d actually done, as well as the things they rightly or wrongly blamed him for.
But Joe Reacher had been universally loved, it seemed. His ex-wife, West Point and Army colleagues, even young boys he’d befriended had nothing but good words to say about him. Working as an FBI agent, I didn’t run into that kind of positive feedback very often. I’d never heard it about Jack Reacher, except from Joe’s ex-wife.
As Tony Clifton had said that first day about himself, the Reacher brothers must also have seen a lot of death and lost friends and family many times over. But the bond between brothers couldn’t be severed by death.
Brothers could be as different as night and day. Or they could be as similar as clones, looking the same and behaving in similar if not identical ways. The Reacher brothers seemed to me to be a little of both.
For the first time, Gaspar and I had completed one of these Reacher File assignments without the unsettling feeling that Reacher was constantly watching us from the shadows. Which didn’t mean he was or wasn’t. Only that I hadn’t felt it as I usually did.
The rental car return was up ahead. I almost wished that Sergeant Church had actually found and killed Reacher because, if he had, our assignment would be over and we could get back to our normal lives. I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about such an almost-wish, but there was no time to figure out my feelings now.
I typed “the end” and uploaded the two reports, one to the Boss’s secure satellite and the longer, more detailed one to my personal server. Paying my insurance premium. Who knew what the Boss or Finlay might have planned for me
down the road? Plausible deniability was always at the front of my mind. Like all insurance, I was still hoping I’d never need it.
In my personal report, I concluded that Finlay and Cooper were engaged in a war. That much was clear. Reacher seemed to be the prize, dead or alive, and neither Finlay nor Cooper much cared which. Why they wanted him and what they planned to do when they found him remained unknown.
But Gaspar and I were expendable. Which wasn’t news. We’d known that for a while.
Gaspar’s wife was not in labor. It wasn’t Thanksgiving and I still wasn’t entitled to vacation time. So when we got the call from the Boss for our next assignment as we entered the airport, we did what we always do.
The only difference was, now we knew we were heading into enemy territory at the outset. Forewarned is forearmed—or foretold, as my mother would say.
We boarded our flight, Gaspar in 1A and me in 3C. I stowed my bags and yanked my seatbelt tight and pulled out a couple of antacids for takeoff.
Moments before we were asked to turn off our electronic devices, the Boss’s phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and read the text.
“Sergeant J. Church dead. Suicide. Shot in the forehead. Beretta. Nine-millimeter full metal jacket through and through.”
Reacher had been watching the whole time and I hadn’t seen him.
THE END
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