by Scott Blade
“It wasn’t like this, not nearly as thick and high.”
Amita said, “Seriously. You’ve never been in snow?”
Reacher said, “I grew up in Mississippi. We don’t have snow.”
“Come on. Let’s get inside. Unless you want to stand there all day and wait till the snow comes down and turns you into a snowman?”
Reacher said, “Inside sounds good. It’s cold.”
“All you have on is a fleece. And this is nothing. Tonight it’s going to be cold to the bone, especially if that snowstorm passes over us. Speaking of which, I can’t stay long. Just breakfast. Then I have to head back and help buckle everything down for the night.”
Reacher nodded and stayed quiet.
They entered through a single push-and-pull glass door with a bell way up on the top corner. It dinged as they entered. Reacher had to duck his head down so that he could walk through the door frame. Inside, the diner was plain. Plain walls. Plain long service counter. Plain booths along the walls and windows. Nothing special about it.
Reacher had come to like these kinds of American diners. They were a part of the American landscape and he preferred them over the traditional chain brands. All of which weren’t particularly out of his taste. He just liked the concealment and the bareness of places that he had heard some people describe as a hole in the wall. Plus there was the good feeling that he got, knowing that he was supporting a local business and not a big chain corporation.
So far Reacher had been all over the southwestern United States and he had stopped for coffee at a host of places: diners, IHOP, Waffle Houses, coffee shops, bars, restaurants, and Starbucks. He liked coffee. That was a certainty, but not all coffee was created equal. He had found that often the local establishment had the best coffee. They kept it fresher. There was a Starbucks in San Diego that he had stopped at one day. He ordered the coffee of the day, something called Pumpkin Spice. It was pretty good. Good enough for him to remember it and record it in his worthwhile memory files.
Amita didn’t ask where Reacher wanted to sit; she simply walked all the way to the back corner both. It had a good view of the road and the door. She sat down on the west side which left Reacher with only two options: Sit next to her on the same bench or sit across from her. Of course the obvious choice was to sit across from her. That was what he was sure she had intended. The only problem with this was that it left his back to the front door. And Reacher didn’t like that. He didn’t like having his back vulnerable.
Another thought that ran through his head was that even though he respected Amita Red Cloud, he didn’t necessarily trust her. What if this was all a ploy to get him in another jurisdiction and once she got him sitting down and fed and full then the two agents from whatever agency would enter from behind him and get the drop on him. Not a scenario that sounded very plausible, but he had the thought just the same.
Amita looked up at him and asked, “You gonna sit?”
Reacher plopped himself down on the bench across from her and smiled.
He reached over and grabbed a menu which was already placed on the table. He opened it up and asked, “So what’s good here?”
Amita smiled at him and said, “Nothing.”
Then she laughed for the first time since he had met her.
Startled by this he jerked his head up at her like she had thrown water in his face. He quickly regained composure and laughed with her.
Then she said, “Seriously, the food here isn’t the best, but it’s the closest thing. And you get used to it.”
“They have good coffee?”
“Coffee isn’t that bad,” she said and then she paused and said, “Shit!”
“What?”
“I left my coffee back at the station. That was three bucks at the general store. It’s pretty good coffee.”
Reacher smiled and stayed quiet.
“Guess I can reheat it later.”
Amita grabbed her menu and glanced over it. The glossy cover reflected the lights from above and glimmered into Reacher’s eyes. It reminded him of a sniper scope from off in the distance. The sunlight beams down and gives away an enemy’s position.
The waitress walked over. Her nametag said that she was Maggie.
Maggie was about five years older than Reacher, possibly Amita’s age, which Reacher guessed was somewhere around 25. She had straight auburn hair and a nose with a tiny cluster of freckles like a constellation of stars. She smelled of perfume with a hint of thick smoke underneath it like she had just returned from a smoke break and sprayed herself to cover the smell.
She was medium height and an average build, but Reacher noticed that she had long fingers. They were abnormally long for a person of her size.
She smiled a big, friendly smile and said, “Officer Amita, how are you doing today?”
Amita nodded in agreement. Didn’t answer the question, but Maggie didn’t wait. She looked at Reacher with a look of great interest on her face.
She said, “Now honey, you have found yourself a boyfriend. My, oh my.”
Reacher smiled. He hadn’t seen that coming.
Amita shook her head like she was possessed in an exorcism. Reacher took special note of that, but didn’t let it hurt his feelings. Instead he said, “She did have me in handcuffs last night.”
Which was technically true.
Maggie smiled and turned a shade of red. Amita turned a shade of red and then purple and stared at Reacher with deadly eyes.
Reacher quickly retracted his statement with, “Only kidding. Officer Red Cloud arrested me last night over a misunderstanding. Now we’re friends. That’s all.”
Amita said, “That’s all. Let’s order.”
“What should I get?”
Maggie started to name the specials, but Amita waved her hand and said, “Texas BLT sandwiches and eggs for both of us. Scrambled. And coffee.”
“And toast,” Reacher said.
Maggie the waitress smiled at him and took their menus. She walked away and returned shortly after with silverware. Then she left again and returned five minutes later with two empty coffee mugs and a dark blue thermos of hot, fresh coffee. She placed the mugs down in front of them and poured each a cup of coffee.
After Maggie was gone, Amita said, “I have to live with these people. That wasn’t funny about the handcuffs.”
“Maggie thought that it was funny.”
“Look I’m buying you breakfast, okay, because my dad asked me to. And I do feel a little bad about last night. I really am a good cop.”
“I know that you are. A little overzealous maybe, but lots of great cops have been. Better to be overcautious rather than be lazy and ignorant. I’ve seen both.”
“Thanks. I really am.”
Silence fell between them for a moment and Reacher took a sip of his coffee. It was hot and good. Not the best, not as good as the Pumpkin Spice from the San Diego Starbucks, but it was far from the worst.
He looked up and watched Amita pour an avalanche of sugar into her coffee. It must have been five or six spoonfuls. Then she picked up a Splenda and tore it open and drizzled it into the coffee.
He thought, No wonder you’re so high strung.
“Tell me about Mike Jacobs.”
She looked up at him. A strange look in her eyes. Sadness? Regret? Reacher wasn’t sure, but there was a lot of pain there.
Old boyfriend? he wondered.
“Mike was my high school sweetheart. He always wanted to leave the reservation. Leave his grandfather to live alone way up near the mountains.”
“And you wanted to stay?”
“No. I actually wanted to join the FBI or DEA or ATF, any of those agencies. I wanted to travel and get out of here too. But my dad says that my life is here. It’s important to him that I stick around and help him police the people.”
“You two are alone?”
“There’s a desk lady who runs the telephones four days a week and then there are three other guys that come on in the warmer months. Hen
ry Little is deputized. But in the winter, a lot of people head south or keep to themselves. It gets really cold, especially in January.”
Reacher nodded and stayed quiet. He thought about his mother and his grandfather, who had died before he was born. His mother had stayed and taken over his grandfather’s role as sheriff. Similar story.
“Mike Jacobs was my boyfriend and we were going to get married a year or two after we graduated college. But one day, he vanished, just gone without a trace. No note. No letter. No phone call. Nothing.”
Reacher thought about saying, Gee, I wonder why he left. Did you drive him away? But he thought that it was better to say nothing.
Silence fell between them and Maggie brought the food out.
She said, “Enjoy.”
Reacher said, “So now these guys are looking for him?”
Amita said, “Yep. Now I think you understand my overzealousness as you called it. This guy left me and his people years ago and now he’s wanted by some federal agents who lie about their agency or even if they are feds. Maybe they’re hired mercs or something. With Mike, there’s no telling what he’s gotten himself into.”
Reacher heard the bell sound behind him and the door opened and shut. Amita looked up at whoever had entered. She stared for a hard second and then she dismissed it. So Reacher didn’t bother taking a peek.
He surmised from the footsteps that it was a large man. Large build. Calm walk. Like an old gunfighter. The guy sat down in a booth directly behind Reacher. The bench trembled under his weight and Reacher felt it.
Reacher waited for any sign that he should be on guard about the guy, but Amita didn’t even look back up. So Reacher continued eating.
Maggie came over to the guy behind Reacher and asked what she could get him.
Reacher heard a husky, animalistic voice say, “coffee.” And that was all.
Chapter 16
Amita finished her breakfast and slid her plate to the edge of the table. She stacked her silverware on top and wiped her hands on a napkin. Out the window, Reacher could see cars and trucks passing slowly down Main Street. Drivers used caution over the snow and followed the tracks that had already been made by previous cars. Street sounds of tires over snow and pavement swept into the diner as new customers opened the door.
Reacher turned his head and peered at them. It was an older couple. Holding hands and laughing.
Amita smiled.
Reacher asked, “So where does the name Amita come from?”
“It was my great-great-grandmother’s name. She was adopted by white parents. Way back. And they named her Amita.”
Reacher nodded and asked, “Why don’t you have a husband or boyfriend now?”
A look crossed her face that said to Reacher he might have been crossing a personal boundary. Then again he didn’t really care since she had arrested him and forced him to spend the night in a cell.
The look vanished and she shrugged and said, “I have no time for one. Plus there aren’t a lot of men on the reservation who make good candidates. Most of the population is old or women. Men tend to grow up and leave.”
“Like Jacobs?”
“Like that.”
“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have left if I was your man.”
She looked up at him with big brown eyes. She nodded and stayed quiet.
It was still a sore subject for her.
Maggie came back to the table, picked up the dishes, and left the check. Reacher started to grab it, but Amita got it first and told him that she was going to cover it. She pulled out her wallet and left the money on the table. She stood up, put her coat on, and zipped it up over her chest.
She said, “Reacher, it was a pleasure. I am sorry for the hostility. This is no longer your concern. I wish you luck in whatever it is you want to do in life.”
Then she walked away and left Reacher to enjoy the rest of his coffee.
Reacher watched her walk out the door of the diner. She stopped for an old faded blue Ford pickup to pass through the lot and then she went to her police car. She opened it, got in, and fired up the engine. Exhaust pooled behind the car. She backed out of her space and pulled away from the lot and was lost to sight.
Chapter 17
The air wafted in again as new customers entered the diner. It was cold and chilled two old guys who sat at the counter. Reacher watched as they visibly made shivering expressions. He drained his coffee cup and started to plan out the rest of his day. He pulled up the road map in his head and thought about the best way to get out of Yellowstone and on with his search for Jack Reacher.
He decided that it was best to head south on Grand Loop Road and around Yellowstone Lake. Eventually he could get to Cheyenne.
Reacher stood up and began to head out of the restaurant when the guy in the booth behind him said, “Reacher? Is that what she called you? Reacher?”
Reacher turned and looked at the guy who remained seated. The guy wore cowboy boots under black chinos and a matching blazer. A thick black sweater was underneath the coat. The guy had a shoulder rig that poked out when the guy stretched his hand out to motion for Reacher to have a seat.
The guy’s face had a wicked scar that cut diagonally down the side of his face and took off half of his lower nose. It was hard to look past his injury, but Reacher studied his whole face and saw that the guy had one grayed-out eye and one piercing blue eye.
Reacher didn’t make any comment or acknowledgement of the guy’s wound.
“Do I know you?”
The guy said, “You don’t know me. Please sit down. I’ll buy you another coffee.”
Reacher thought for a moment. He figured that it couldn’t hurt to sit with the guy. It was still early in the morning and maybe the guy would offer him a ride. Besides he wanted to know how this guy knew his name. So he dumped himself down in the booth and waited for the guy to speak.
Maggie came over and asked Reacher if he wanted another cup of coffee. Reacher nodded and a moment later she returned with a fresh cup. Black. No thermos this time. Just the coffee.
“So what can I do for you? How do you know my name?”
“My name is Alex Shepard. I know your name because the two guys that you beat up, they work for me.”
Reacher stayed quiet. Realized that maybe he should’ve kept walking out the door. But then he thought that it may not have made a difference. Those two agents were most likely waiting outside in the parking lot, probably in a van or SUV with tinted windows. They probably were armed with stun guns. He wouldn’t make it very far, especially with no vehicle of his own.
“I can explain that,” Reacher said.
“It was a misunderstanding. I know. I got that from their side of things.”
Reacher stayed quiet.
“They overstepped their boundaries and things got out of hand. You were only trying to help Officer Red Cloud. I see that.”
“They were harassing her. That’s what it looked like to me.”
Reacher kept Shepard’s hands in his peripherals and calculated that if the guy went for his gun, he could beat him down with two moves. One, hot coffee in the face. Two, smash the cup into the guy’s good eye. Job done. Case closed.
Shepard nodded and said, “I know. They admitted to me that they had stepped out of line. Don’t worry. I’ve put them aside for now. They’re waiting back at out motel.”
He watched as Reacher glanced around the parking lot from the window.
“We’re alone. I promise.”
“Those guys told the cops at Red Rain that they were FBI.”
Shepard nodded.
“They aren’t FBI. And neither are you.”
“No we’re not. We are federal agents.”
“I believe that. So who do you work for?”
“We work for the CIA.”
“Bullshit! The CIA can’t operate on American soil. That’s a big breech of protocol.”
Shepard smiled. The hole where half of his nose used to be turned into one hal
f of an upside-down heart. Reacher wondered what had caused such a vicious wound. The guy must’ve seen some bad war time.
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“No way. The CIA can’t operate on American soil. If you had said NSA then maybe I’d believe you. After Edward Snowden, I think everyone knows that. But the CIA is still bound by a charter to spy only on foreign soil.
“Besides that the CIA is not a law enforcement agency. You wouldn’t be looking for an American fugitive unless he had some kind of intel.”
“Technically, you’re right and you’re wrong. I have to tell you that when I heard that it was your name that had come up as the guy who beat up my two agents, I was flummoxed.”
Reacher furrowed his brow. He was confused by this. What did the guy mean by his name?
“The CIA isn’t allowed to operate on American soil. That part is true, but there is one exception.”
Shepard paused a beat and then he said, “Indian reservations. We can engage in missions on Indian reservations. There are real-life terrorist cells that are born on Indian reservations. It has always been a real concern that one of these groups might try to rise up and overthrow the government or create an act of terror for their cause.”
Reacher stayed quiet.
“As you can imagine, many Indian people feel a little bitter that we ran them off their lands. They feel oppressed by this. So there is a real concern about them.”
“Is that true about the reservations? I never knew that.”
“We’re the CIA. There’s a lot that you don’t know. And, yeah. It’s true.”
“So your two guys were posing as FBI agents to find this Mike Jacobs?”
“That’s right.”
“What did you mean that it surprised you to see my name?”
Alex Shepard paused a beat and then he asked, “What do you know about your father?”
Reacher’s face perked up like someone had said the magic words.
He said, “Not much.”
“I gotta tell you that the resemblance is uncanny.”
“You know my father?”
“A long, long time ago. I knew him. I knew of him really. The last time that I saw him he was being evacuated to Germany.”
“Evacuated?”
