by Diane Capri
Eleanor Duncan was not relevant to Sydney’s assignment as far as he knew. He’d ask Rossi when he reported back after the task at hand was completed.
Sydney shut down his research session. He paid his bill and headed out to the SUV.
Orchid Thai Bistro was a ten-minute drive from the café. The dinner service was in full swing and the parking lot was full, with vehicles waiting in the driveway for slots to open up. The place was popular, for sure.
Sydney drove around to the back of the building.
A line of eight residential-sized parking garages faced each other near the property line. Each garage was large enough to accommodate two cars. Sixteen vehicles. The garages were numbered to match the eight apartments upstairs. The residents had a private driveway off the alley.
Closer to the back entrance of the building, near the kitchen, was a three-sided enclosure surrounding a cluster of dumpsters.
He continued his circuit around the building and noticed a vehicle reversing from its space in the front lot. He turned on his signal and waited for the sedan to leave.
From this vantage point, he could see the front of the Bistro, but his view was obscured by parked vehicles and pedestrians walking through the doors. Orchid Thai Bistro was a busy and prosperous place, even on a Tuesday night.
Two men climbed out of a late model Audi SUV near the north end of the parking lot. Illuminated by bright halogen bulbs atop the light poles, the vehicle appeared to be pale ivory, but it was probably white.
Something about the two men seemed odd. Sydney raised his phone and snapped several photos of the pair.
The passenger could have been one of Rossi’s bouncers. He weighed about two-fifty, maybe six foot four. His hair was fair and closely cropped as if his barber was the U.S. Army. He pushed the SUV’s door closed awkwardly, using his left hand, which was the size of a frozen turkey.
His companion was a smaller, wiry guy sporting a longish blond mop in disarray around his head and a good-humored expression.
Maybe they were just a couple of hungry Thai foodies. But years of training in the art of observing every nuance when his life might depend on it had hard-wired Sydney’s lizard brain to signal visceral danger before he actually recognized it.
The little guy did all the talking. The big man didn’t say two words all the way along the sidewalk to the Bistro’s entrance. Perhaps the big guy was the muscle, hired to protect the little dude. Sydney had run into that dynamic before.
The big man reached out with his right hand and curled his fingers around the handle, thumb up, to open the entrance door. His shirt sleeve was rolled up, and a thick white sleeve covered his forearm from below the elbow all the way to his brawny knuckles. Sydney only saw the flash of white for a brief moment, but it looked like a hard plaster cast.
The little guy slipped inside and the big guy followed, letting the door swing closed behind them. Which meant the bodyguard hypothesis was a bust. If the big guy was hired for protection, he’d have entered the place first to assure there were no active threats to the client inside.
Sydney waited a bit longer, watching patrons come and go. He noted the time when three different groups entered and again when they returned to their vehicles, sated and happy. The bistro’s dinner rhythm seemed to turn over the tables every hour, give or take.
Two hours had passed, but the big guy and his sidekick didn’t emerge. Which meant there was more to them than a couple of guys looking for a good meal.
The visceral response Sydney had experienced earlier returned. His stomach tightened. Something about the pair was definitely off.
The constant parade of diners had not slowed and he couldn’t wait any longer. He had a schedule to keep.
Sydney stepped out of his SUV and walked to the entrance.
Coming directly toward him from the opposite direction along the sidewalk was Jade, arm-in-arm with Eleanor Duncan.
Sometimes, you get lucky.
He held the door open calmly as if he had no idea who they were.
As they walked through, Eleanor Duncan looked into his eyes and said, “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Sydney replied and followed them inside.
CHAPTER 14
Tuesday, May 17
Duncan, Nebraska
8:00 p.m.
Brenda Landon’s meal was excellent, which wasn’t surprising. Kim had been smelling the delicious aromas emanating from the oven since she and Burke first stepped into the house. The food was passed quietly as they filled their plates. The doctor ate very little and continued drinking, as seemed to be his habit.
“Are you staying at the Apollo Inn tonight?” Brenda asked about halfway through dinner.
“No,” Kim replied, ignoring Burke’s raised eyebrows. “We’ll be heading to Denver.”
“Tonight?” the doctor said as if she’d suggested a quick trip to Mars. “You got enough gas? You’re not likely to find an open gas station until you reach the interstate.”
Kim swallowed her last bite before she replied, “We’ll be okay. It’s a five-hour drive, right? Straight down U.S. 385?”
Landon shrugged. “If you get lucky and don’t run into any trouble. It’ll be pitch black out there, all the way south to Interstate 76. Which will take you into Denver. You’ll have a chance of finding civilization once you hit 76. Gas. Food. Stuff like that.”
“Why are you in such a rush?” Brenda asked. “It would be safer to sleep at the Apollo tonight and head out early in the morning, wouldn’t it? You’ve had a long day.”
“Maybe. But we can’t wait,” Kim replied. “We’ll sleep on the way.”
She couldn’t say exactly why she felt the urgency. Perhaps because she was closer to finding Reacher than she’d been before. She wouldn’t let him slip through her grasp again. Not for a night’s sleep at the Apollo Inn, as uninteresting as that might prove to be.
Burke shook his head, but he didn’t argue. How could he? He’d been hounding her about going after Reacher faster than they’d been allowed, and now she’d agreed. For once, he had nothing to complain about.
He cleared his throat, “Tell me again where we can find Eleanor Duncan in Denver.”
“She owns a restaurant. Orchid Thai Bistro. It’s actually in Golden, which is about twenty-five miles farther west,” Landon said, pushing the green beans around on his plate with his fork. “You can look it up online.”
“Where does she live?” Kim asked.
“Same address,” Brenda said. “Eleanor owns the building. Restaurant’s on the first floor. Her apartment is on the third floor.”
“And what’s on the second floor?” Burke asked as he ate his last bite of potatoes.
Brenda and her husband exchanged uncomfortable glances. “It’s housing for the restaurant’s workers. Single women. No men. If they get married, they move out.”
Kim cocked her head. “That’s a little odd, isn’t it? Why doesn’t Eleanor employ any men?”
Dr. Landon shrugged. “Doesn’t need any, I guess.”
Brenda frowned. “Eleanor doesn’t have much affection for men anymore.”
“You mean she’s a lesbian,” Burke said matter-of-factly. “Is that a problem around here?”
“It’s not that.” Landon shook his head.
Kim cocked her head and narrowed her gaze. The picture was starting to come into focus.
At first she’d wondered whether Eleanor Duncan had been one of Reacher’s affairs.
Reacher preferred warriors. Strong women. Law enforcement or military, usually.
Which Gaspar insisted was the reason The Boss had assigned Kim to Reacher’s case, because he thought she was tempting bait.
An army psychiatrist had speculated that Reacher’s preference for fighters probably had something to do with his mother, Josephine. She’d been active in the French resistance, once upon a time. Reacher had been as unusually close to her as he was distant from his father, Stan.
Kim wasn’t persuaded by th
e usual Freudian mumbo jumbo. Could have been Reacher’s mother was the source of his sexual preferences. Or it could have been something else entirely.
“What’s Eleanor’s problem with men, then? Exactly.” Burke pressed.
“Her husband beat her,” Landon replied quietly, eyes staring down at the table, as if he was embarrassed to say. Then he looked up and stared straight ahead. “When she got free of him, she swore off men forever. Who could blame her?”
Kim arched her eyebrows and filed this new intel away with everything else she knew about her quarry.
The same army psychiatrist had said Reacher’s feelings about crime victims were even more complicated than his relationship with his family. Reacher said he wasn’t so much fighting for the little guy as fighting against the big guy. The definitions for these categories seemed somewhat fluid to him.
What it came down to in Kim’s mind was that Reacher did what he wanted, when he wanted. As simple and unpredictable as that.
Kim spent a few moments rearranging the puzzle pieces in her head. “So Reacher killed Eleanor’s husband, right?”
The doctor and his wife said nothing, but Burke’s ears pricked up. He cocked his head like a watchdog who heard a strange noise in the junkyard. He didn’t intend to miss anything.
“We’ve seen the police reports. They say a spree killer came through here seven years ago. Eleven bodies were found. Seth Duncan, Eleanor’s husband, was one of the dead. Coroner said his body looked like it had been hit by a truck.” Kim assumed none of this was news to either the doctor or his wife. Duncan, Nebraska, was a place where everybody knew everybody’s business. “When the police interviewed Dorothy Coe, she said Reacher killed them all. Was that true?”
Landon shrugged. Brenda ate another bite of potatoes and chewed them way too long.
After a few moments of silence, Burke cleared his throat. “Tell you what I think. Reacher was a convenient scapegoat.”
Brenda’s eyes bulged. The doctor looked down at his plate.
“The real killer was Eleanor Duncan. Seth pushed her too far, and she wigged out and ran him over with his own truck. Battered wife syndrome. Totally understandable,” Burke continued. “Sometimes, a jury will go for that idea, too. We bring Eleanor in, and she gets tried. Maybe she’ll get off. Who knows?”
“Are you crazy?” Landon exclaimed as he choked on his whiskey, and Brenda spewed her mouthful of potatoes across the table. “Eleanor didn’t kill anybody. She’s not like that. Not at all. She’s the exact opposite of a killer.”
“But she had good reasons to kill Seth, didn’t she?” Kim asked, now that Burke had broken through the silence. “He was a wife-beater. His father and his uncles were no better. I’m guessing one of them killed Dorothy Coe’s daughter, too, didn’t they?”
Burke said, “What happened? Reacher protected Eleanor and her husband didn’t like it? So he took a shot at Reacher and Reacher killed him. The husband’s family joined in and pretty soon, there was a small war going on?”
Brenda took a long swig of water and got herself under control. “Why are you digging all this up now? It was a long time ago. The files were closed. Dorothy’s dead. Everybody involved is dead. Reacher’s gone. Eleanor’s gone. How can this ancient history possibly matter?”
“Good question. You tell me.” Kim leaned in. “Reacher came here again on Sunday. Doc fixed up his broken wrist. Then he left for Denver, looking for Eleanor Duncan. If the ancient history is irrelevant like you say, then what new facts should we know about?”
Brenda paused, perhaps waiting for her husband to jump in. But he didn’t. So she said, “Because we told him Eleanor was in trouble. He helped her before. We thought he might be able to help her again.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Burke’s astonished face was almost comical. “Reacher went to Denver to rescue Eleanor Duncan? Why would anyone believe that?”
“Doesn’t matter whether you believe it or not.” Dr. Landon shrugged again. “That’s what happened.”
“Okay. Good to know.” Kim nodded, sending a glare toward Burke to keep him quiet until she could tease out the truth. “How did Reacher get here? To Duncan. It’s not like there’s a bus stop or anything.”
“He hitched a ride. Petey Burns picked him up near Mount Rushmore,” Brenda said. “Drove him to Denver, too, I imagine. Petey said he didn’t have anything better to do. And he had a car. Which Reacher didn’t have.”
Burke shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his luck. He pulled out his phone and flipped quickly through the photos until he found the one he was looking for.
He held the screen up. “Is this Petey Burns?”
Landon nodded. “Why do you have his photo?”
“We’ve been looking for him, too. He escaped from Bolton prison in South Dakota last week,” Burke said. “What kind of vehicle were they driving?”
“Petey? In prison? But he’s so sweet.” Brenda looked completely miserable now. As if she’d squealed on a close friend.
“Yeah, well, he’s a very good car thief, as it happens.” Burke scowled at her. “What kind of vehicle?”
“A white Audi SUV. It looked fairly new. Petey was talking about how he likes to drive German luxury cars,” Dr. Landon said as he drained his glass again. “He didn’t mention exactly how he, uh, acquired the Audi.”
“One last thing,” Kim pushed back from the table. “Exactly what kind of trouble is Eleanor Duncan in now? And why do you think Reacher can help?”
Dr. Landon cleared his throat. “Like I said. I imagine there’s very little trouble Reacher can’t fix.”
CHAPTER 15
Tuesday, May 17
Denver, Colorado
8:30 p.m.
Sydney watched as Eleanor Duncan and Jade walked straight past the hostess stand, deeper into the dimly lit interior. The bistro was one large room decorated in some designer’s idea of traditional Thai style.
He had never been to Thailand, but he’d visited many Thai restaurants. The décor was always similar. Red, gold, and dark wood. Carpet on the floors and dim light for ambiance, he supposed.
The hostess was a young Thai woman, wearing a long pink and gold costume similar to the ones he’d seen in the old photos. Sydney guessed she was about sixteen and cute as anything. He saw two other girls about the same age, dressed similarly and bussing tables. It was refreshing to see teens with jobs for a change instead of standing around waiting for an allowance.
“Dinner for one?” the hostess asked politely, with a smile. When he nodded, she collected a menu and politely gestured, “Right this way, sir.”
He followed her to a small table for two in a dimly lit back corner. The spot felt like a location for a romantic date but suited his need to be inconspicuous.
He sat with his back to the wall, facing the room. She left the menu with another smile and a nod before she pressed her palms together and bowed her head slightly. He assumed the gesture was a Thai greeting and sign of respect.
She returned to her station, back ramrod straight, moving with the grace of a tiny ballerina.
Sydney glanced around the room to get a better feel for the place. He’d studied the blueprints, so he knew the basic layout. The big dining room consumed most of the space on the first floor. A short corridor led to restrooms and the kitchen across the back.
A small bar area was set up across from his table on the opposite wall. Four empty bar stools had been supplied for patrons. Another smiling Thai woman was behind the bar preparing drinks that were picked up by servers and delivered to diners.
The servers were all young Thai women. Sydney had begun to wonder whether there were any men working at Orchid Bistro. So far, he’d seen none. Which was just fine with him.
Diners of all sorts continued to come and go. Tables turned over at the steady pace he’d noticed before as the servers scurried to and from the kitchen.
A four-top across the room caught his attention. It was occupied by the pair he’
d seen outside. If the big dude and the little guy had eaten, the table had already been cleared. Nothing cluttered the table top now.
The giant sat in the shadows with his back to the wall, detached but watching. The little blond guy occupied the chair next to him. From the body language, Sydney guessed they were not a couple. They behaved as if they barely knew each other. They exchanged no conversation. The big guy watched the room. The little dude fidgeted like he wanted nothing more than to leave. Thirty minutes ago.
Sydney saw that the little guy wasn’t actually as small as he seemed.
One of the tiny Thai women approached the table with a round tray and two steaming coffee mugs. By comparison, the smaller guy was average-sized. Maybe about five-ten and one-sixty. Clean-shaven, shaggy hair, and a generous smile. He flirted with his server.
She looked down at the floor and blushed as she delivered the coffee. Which Sydney took to mean she found Mr. Average appealing and inoffensive. But she was careful not to approach the bigger man as if she feared him.
Sydney tucked his observations away for future reference.
Next to the petite waitress, the big guy looked like a giant. He could have crushed her fragile bones with one hand. Perhaps to avoid frightening her, he kept both hands visible on the table. From Sydney’s vantage point across the room, the cast on the giant’s right forearm was clearly visible.
Experience suggested a monstrous blow delivered with speed and heft had been required to fracture the giant’s thick bones. Sydney shrugged. Maybe the big dude was clumsy and fell on top of his own arm.
The waitress pressed her palms together and bowed her head slightly before she departed. Sydney had seen the gesture repeated by several employees. Probably meant to foster the Thai ambiance.
The two men sat silently, sipping coffee. The big one scanned the room, watching everything that moved. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it.
