Washington, D.C.
November 5
12:15 p.m.
Gaspar had eased himself behind the Crown Vic’s wheel. He was the number two, and the number two drives. Simple as that. He was on his personal phone, calling home. “I know. I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry. Kiss the girls for me.” He paused to listen to his wife. He said, “Yeah, I love you, too.”
“Everything OK at home?” Kim asked, as she slipped into the car. She handed back the phantom cell. Until Hale was dealt with to her satisfaction, she had nothing more to say to Cooper.
“All fine at home,” Gaspar said. “Where to now, boss lady?”
She recognized his attempt to normalize their relationship again after she’d failed him in the alley. He was more generous than she would have been.
She said, “Phoenix, Arizona.”
“For?”
“Hale and Sylvia.”
“What about Reacher? Is he with them?”
“Cooper says he doesn’t know.”
“You believe that?”
“No more than you do. He’s sending transportation and instructions.” She could see he was hurting. “Want me to drive?”
“I told you I’m fine.”
“Hale won’t deliberately wound you again when we find him. This time, he'll shoot to kill.”
He shrugged. “What did you tell the boss?”
“I said you were fine.”
“Thanks.”
“Least I could do, don’t you think?”
“Why’s that?”
She looked away.
He said, “If you’re harboring some crazy ass boss lady alpha female idea that you should have gotten Hale before he got me, then forget all about it. I didn’t see it coming, either.”
But you weren’t looking. I was.
Kim blinked it back. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time with Roscoe.”
He said, “I’m tired, that’s all. I’ll sleep on the plane. I’ll be right as rain when we get there. Don’t worry.”
She laughed. “Worry? Who, me?”
He smiled. “Right. What was I thinking?” He pulled out into the traffic. “What time’s the flight?”