Jack of Spades

by Diane Capri

  “Do you need to get back to your team, then?” Kim pushed her barely touched food aside, too.

  “They don’t need me out there at the moment. I can drive you to your interview first. Unless you want me to drive you somewhere else,” he replied.

  Kim hesitated briefly, considering the alternatives, before she said, “That would be great. Thanks.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Saturday, February 26

  2:00 p.m.

  Laconia, New Hampshire

  The GPS system and the satellite radio system was easily trackable for any hacker. Nothing she could do about that. Some hackers put tracers in place on a GPS that were voice activated, turning on only when they heard human voices requesting driving directions using certain words such as find or go to. In an attempt to buy a little time from those, she turned off the GPS and put her finger across her lips to signal Smithers not to ask about their destination.

  He frowned.

  Kim entered Margaret Reacher’s address into one of the burner phones and pointed toward the display as she gestured straight ahead. Smithers arched his eyebrows but he didn’t ask questions.

  Once he was on the road, she said, “How was your breakfast?”

  Smithers frowned. “Fine. I noticed you didn’t eat much.”

  She smiled, pointing to the phone’s screen to indicate a right turn up ahead. “The ham was okay. I’m not a fan of eggs.”

  Smithers shrugged.

  Smithers followed the directions along Main Street and turned into a residential neighborhood near the river. Three more turns and he slowed to read the house numbers on the historic old homes.

  The street was unnaturally quiet. Houses were widely spaced, but close enough that residents could be neighborly during the warmer months. Kim imagined barbeques and kids playing on the sidewalks. The area felt like that kind of place. Nice way for a kid to grow up.

  Kim held up her palm and gestured toward a green two-story bungalow that had been constructed at least a hundred years earlier. The snow-covered lawn was probably well tended in the summer. Kim imagined flower gardens surrounding the house and flowing into the back yard. But today, snow drifted and piled and packed everywhere.

  There was a detached two-car garage in the back and, running along the left side of the house, a narrow, snow-covered driveway.

  They climbed out of the SUV and stomped across the snowpack to the front steps. The wide porch had been cleaned off recently, which made movement a little easier. Kim knocked the snow off her boots and rang the doorbell. She stepped away from the door to wait.

  Smithers stood stiffly beside her, gloved hands clasped in front of his flat belly. “Are we expected?”

  “You mean, do we have an appointment? No,” Kim replied. “But this seems like the kind of town where we don’t need one, doesn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Indeed, it does. But cops are not usually as welcome as the neighbors.”

  A light flipped on inside and the heavy door opened on the other side of the glass storm door. Kim recognized the woman from the driver’s license photo Gaspar had included in her file. Margaret Reacher née Preston was a slender brunette. Brown eyes. Average height, meaning about five-four. Her date of birth placed her squarely in the fifth decade of life.

  Kim pulled her badge wallet out of her pocket and displayed it. Smithers did the same. Then she pulled open the storm door. “Mrs. Reacher? I’m FBI Special Agent Kim Otto. This is my colleague, Special Agent Reggie Smithers. May we come in?”

  Mrs. Reacher blanched. She looked as if her knees might give way and she tightened her grip on the doorknob.

  “Are you not feeling well, Mrs. Reacher?” Smithers stepped forward to offer a steadying hand to guide her into a chair in the living room. “Let’s sit here.”

  “Can we get you something?” Kim asked as she closed the front doors against the wind. In all her life, she’d never met a woman with a tendency to swoon. She didn’t know exactly what to do now that she’d met one. “How about a cup of hot tea?”

  Mrs. Reacher nodded weakly and waved Kim toward the back of the house.

  Kim followed along the corridor until she found the pleasant kitchen. She filled the electric tea kettle and plugged it into the outlet. She searched the cabinets nearby for tea, sugar, and milk. Kim liked her tea black, like her coffee, but not everyone did.

  A woman who swoons would most likely want milk and sugar. She found a box of shortbread cookies and a plate to put them on, but she drew the line at paper doilies for the cookies. Kim wasn’t domestic.

  While she waited for the water to heat, she stepped into the hallway to look at the photos hanging on the wall. Most of them were decades old.

  She pulled out her phone and took quick snaps of the pictures before she studied a few of them more closely.

  A formal wedding photo, maybe twenty years old or so. Margaret Reacher was the bride and, Kim assumed, the groom was David Reacher.

  He might have been related to Jack Reacher, but if so, recessive genes in the pool had asserted themselves. David was a slight man. Dark hair and dark eyes. He looked gentle and kind. If he’d ever been in trouble of any sort, he bore no scars to prove it in any of the photos.

  There were also several framed pictures of the boy Kim assumed was Jake Reacher. Gaspar’s file had not included any photos of him.

  These chronicled his growth from infancy through various sports, proms, and the like. The high school and college graduation photos of the boy flanked by both parents drew Kim’s focus like a magnet attracts steel.

  Jake was fair haired and his eyes were an icy blue. Even in high school, he was big. Six-four, Kim guessed. And heavy. Maybe two-fifty. His hands were huge. So were his feet. Jake towered over both parents and he looked like neither of them.

  He was spawned by Reacher. Had to be. He looked like Jack Reacher. He had the same body type. His coloring was the same.

  Could Jake Reacher have been adopted by these two people? Is this why the Boss had sent her here? What was she supposed to do with this intel?

  Kim started again with the infant photos and walked along the corridor, pausing a moment before each picture. Viewing the images in sequence was like watching Jack Reacher grow up, if he’d been born into a kinder, gentler family and raised inside the continental U.S.

  She leaned closer to the most recent photo of Jake with an old guy in a wheelchair and studied it intently, as if it might answer all of her questions.

  The whistling kettle startled her and she jumped. Her heart rate elevated for a couple of seconds until she realized what the noise was about. She rushed to turn off the kettle before Smithers came looking for the cause of her distraction.

  By the time she returned to the living room with the tray, Mrs. Reacher seemed to have gathered some composure. Smithers was seated across from her, soothing her with his resonant tones as he might have settled a terrified wild animal.

  Mrs. Reacher poured tea, added cream and sugar, and sipped, all deliberately, as if she wasn’t quite ready to face conversation.

  “Has something happened?” she finally asked, in a breathless voice.

  Kim cocked her head. It was a curious question to open with, but it made the woman’s behavior understandable. She must have assumed they’d arrived with bad news. Since her husband had already passed away, she was probably worried about her son.

  That made sense, but did nothing to explain her reasons.

  “You’re asking about Jake?” Kim said. With the mention of his name, Margaret Reacher tensed. Her eyes widened and her face blanched again, as if she might faint. Kim would never learn anything from her if she didn’t relax the woman first. “Nothing’s happened to Jake, Mrs. Reacher. We’re here to ask you some questions for a background check. That’s all.”

  “A background check? What kind of background check?” She seemed more bewildered than afraid now.

  “I’m sorry we frightened you. We didn’t intend to,” Smithers said. He gave he
r shoulder a pat and poured tea for himself and for Kim. Perhaps an effort to normalize the situation. He sat back in his chair.

  Kim took the cup and then set it down on the table next to her chair. “I’m assigned to the FBI’s Special Personnel Task Force, ma’am. We’re doing a background check for a man who is being considered for a classified assignment. His last name is the same as yours. That’s how we found you. We need to learn what you know about his fitness for the work.”

  “Please call me Margaret,” she said absently as she shook her head. “You mean, like a military assignment or spying or something? I don’t have anyone in my family who would be applying for anything like that. None of the Prestons are working for the government at all, unless you include the teachers. And I can’t imagine what elementary school teachers would have to offer the FBI.”

  “The man we’re interested in might have been your husband’s relative, Margaret,” Kim replied.

  “Oh. Well, David came from a very small family. His parents are deceased and he only has one brother.” She paused and her eyes widened as if she’d experienced an epiphany. “Is it Mark Reacher you’re asking about? Because I don’t know much about him. Mark was a lot younger than David. They were never close. I’ve never even met him. And I haven’t heard anything about him in years.”

  Smithers asked, “Do you know where Mark Reacher is?”

  Margaret shook her head. “Last I heard, and it was a long time ago, he was working somewhere in Europe. Like I said, he and David were estranged. Mark didn’t even come to David’s funeral.”

  Kim nodded. “Why were they estranged?”

  “It bewilders me, too. I never had a brother and always wanted one. I can’t imagine anything that would make me stop communicating with a brother.” Margaret shook her head again. “All I know is that Mark left home right after high school and he never came back. He wasn’t at our wedding. He’s never met my son.”

  She’d offered a solid opening by mentioning Jake again, giving Kim a logical reason to follow up. “I saw the photos of Jake on the wall when I went to the kitchen. How old is he now?”

  Like every loving mother everywhere, Margaret seemed happy to talk about her only child. She smiled and her eyes almost twinkled. “Jake’s twenty-two. Graduated from Dartmouth early so his dad could be there.”

  Smithers chimed in as if he was glad to have a safe topic, finally. “Dartmouth’s a great school. I’d love my kids to go there. But I’ve heard it’s pricey…”

  “Very expensive,” Margaret nodded. “We were thrilled when Jake got admitted. It was a stretch for us, but he received some smaller scholarships from a few local groups. He worked summers. We borrowed the rest because David thought it was important.”

  “Jake’s a good student, then?” Kim asked.

  For the first time since she first mentioned her son, Margaret frowned. “Good enough to get admitted to Dartmouth. But mainly they wanted him to play football.”

  “The Big Green.” Smithers said with the appreciation of a man who’d played football in college himself. He flashed a wide grin of approval. “Very competitive. He must have shown significant talent in high school, too. Good for him.”

  Margaret smiled weakly and with a lot less enthusiasm. “He survived college football long enough to graduate. I’m grateful for that.”

  “Jake looks like a big guy in those photos. Along with the talent, he certainly has the bulk for the game,” Kim replied.

  Margaret nodded. “He was a star on the Laconia High School team.”

  “My brothers played college football, but they weren’t good enough for the pros. What about Jake? Is he planning to play professionally?” Kim asked, attempting to build rapport for the more difficult questions to follow.

  “He’s going to law school.” The proud mama smile returned. “Harvard. Starting next fall.”

  “Harvard’s a great school and studying law will serve him well in life. I went to Georgetown law school, myself. Double major along with my MBA. But that was a long time ago,” Kim said. “I’d love to meet Jake. Sounds like we’d have a few things in common. Is he here?”

  Margaret’s frown seemed to darken her entire body. She shook her head. “He’s on vacation.”

  “Good man. I’m sure he needs a break. Sunshine and beaches would probably be welcome to him right about now,” Smithers shivered like it was cold inside as well as out. As if he and Jake were besties or something. “Where’d he go?”

  “He’s driving. He said he wanted to see the country.” Margaret closed down completely. Her lips formed a hard line and she folded her hands together in her lap, gripping tightly as if she might be holding a valuable treasure she was determined to keep to herself.

  Kim moved through the roadblock. “Margaret, as I mentioned, we’re completing a background check. We’re after information about a former Army officer. Actually, Jake looks a bit like him in those photos.”

  As soon as the words were out of Kim’s mouth, Margaret’s spine seemed to lose its stability. She crumpled in a heap on the sofa, dissolving into tears.

  Kim glanced quizzically toward Smithers who shrugged and gave her a “beats me” look. She found a box of tissues on a table near the door and handed them to Margaret. She could think of nothing soothing to say, so she simply waited.

  After a few minutes, the woman seemed to gather enough composure and Kim tried again. “Margaret, I’m sorry, but we do need to know the answers to our questions. If we can finish up now, we won’t need to come back to bother you again to complete the background check.”

  Margaret sniffled, blew her nose a couple of times, and nodded. Her eyes still leaking tears and her breathing uneven, she said, “You came here to ask me about Jack Reacher, didn’t you? Well, I can save you some time. I never met the man and I don’t know anything about him.”

  Kim had consoled a lot of witnesses over the years, but this was a first. She’d never had a witness sob like that over a man she’d never met. What the hell was up with her? And how did she jump right to Jack Reacher, anyway?

  Kim cocked her head and her brain connected the dots at lightning speed.

  Jake looked like a young Jack Reacher. Right size, right coloring, right facial features. Not to mention those icy blue eyes.

  Although if she’d never met Jack Reacher, Margaret wouldn’t know it.

  Jake also looked like Joe Reacher.

  Joe and Jack resembled each other more than brothers sometimes did. Joe was slightly shorter and a bit smaller. Otherwise, the two brothers might have been twins.

  Yet, Margaret hadn’t guessed Joe Reacher was the subject of Kim’s investigation. Why not?

  Kim had mentioned a classified assignment, which meant the man who filled it would need to be alive to do the job.

  Joe Reacher wasn’t alive.

  He’d died fifteen years ago in Margrave, Georgia.

  And if Margaret had never met Jack Reacher, as she’d claimed, she might have guessed the background check was for Joe Reacher.

  But she hadn’t. She’d guessed Jack.

  Why?

  Only one answer made sense of the known facts, including why the Boss sent her to Laconia in the first place. He must have known about Jake Reacher.

  Kim took a deep breath. “That’s not exactly true, though, is it?”

  “Are you calling me a liar?” she replied huffily.

  Kim replied, “Maybe you never met Jack Reacher, but you do know some things about him, don’t you?”

  Margaret blinked and dabbed her eyes with a clean tissue but didn’t respond.

  “You know that Jack is Joe Reacher’s brother, for example.”

  Margaret’s face paled, but she said nothing.

  “You also know that Joe Reacher is dead, don’t you? That’s why you guessed we were here about Jack instead of Joe.”

  Margaret’s eyes widened.

  “One more thing.” Kim lowered her voice. “You know that Joe Reacher was your son’s biologica
l father. Who else knows? Your husband? Jake?”

  “My son is none of your business,” Margaret replied sharply. She rose off the sofa and stood ramrod straight. “You can show yourselves out.”

  She stalked through a door on the other side of the room and slammed it closed behind her. Kim heard a deadbolt slide into place.

  Smithers said dryly, “Well, I guess this interview’s over.”

  “I guess it is. Let’s go,” Kim replied. Once she was outside, she stepped away from Smithers, found Gaspar’s phone and pressed redial. He picked up immediately. “I need a search of all DNA databases, public and private, for Margaret Preston Reacher, David Reacher, and Jake Reacher. Pronto. Can you help?”

  “Why?” Gaspar asked.

  “Because I think she had an affair with Joe Reacher and Jake Reacher is his son.”

  “Ah,” Gaspar replied. She visualized the grin on his lips.

  “And while you’re at it, search for Joe Reacher’s DNA, too,” she said.

  “Why?” Gaspar asked again.

  “We’ve never looked for Joe’s DNA because it wasn’t relevant. Now it could be. And with your new resources, we could actually find it. We know when and where Joe Reacher died. You should find sufficient tissue samples from his autopsy,” Kim said, thinking aloud. “And if there was no DNA run on the samples at the time, you can run them now. Once you find Margaret and Jake’s DNA in the systems, that is.”

  “You’re a genius,” Gaspar deadpanned.

  “So you’ve said, Cheech,” Kim replied just as sardonically, but she was feeling better already. Finally, some kind of break in this maddening hunt for Jack Reacher. And it was about damned time. Solid intel, even if the intel was about his brother, could prove helpful. “Oh, and get whatever intel you can find on Margaret Reacher’s son, Jake while you’re lounging around by the pool down there.”