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She said, “This is a bad situation. I’m worried about that kid.”

Reacher said, “You’re right. He’s terrible on that bike. We should have made him walk.”

“I’m not talking about road safety. It’s the whole deal with Begovic getting released. Minerva will arrange support for him. It’s all a big PR stunt so Hix will make sure it’s done right. He won’t want stories in the press about Begovic killing himself or committing some crime just to get locked up again. But Jed? Who’s going to look out for him? If it’s true that his mom is dead, he’s got no one. I’ve seen this before. I know how it will play out. The poor kid’s setting himself up to fail.”

—

The phone prompted them to proceed to the route so Hannah took the left turn. Then the phone had them swing away to the south and skirt around the center of the town. The road was surrounded by trees. They were tall and mature, but there were no buildings for more than half a mile. Then they came to a house. It was huge. It was gleaming white. Four columns supported a porch and a balcony, which jutted out at the center. Further balconies ran the whole width on two levels on either side. The place was the size of a hotel and it was surrounded by a wall with a fancy iron gate. A driveway wrapped around an oval patch of grass with flowers and shrubs and a raised fountain. A car was parked between the fountain and the steps leading up to the front door. A BMW sedan. It was large and black. Reacher recognized it. The day before it had been in the curved lot outside the prison.

They continued for another three-quarters of a mile then turned to the west. The trees thinned out and houses began to appear on both sides of the street. The homes grew closer and larger and more uniform until the phone said their destination was a hundred feet ahead, on the left. That would place Danny’s house on the final lot before a smaller road peeled away to the south. But there was a problem. That lot was empty.

Hannah pulled over at the side of the street and they saw that the lot wasn’t completely empty. There was a stand-alone garage in the far corner, with a short drive leading to the side road. There was a mailbox mounted on a skinny metal pole. It had originally been red but the paint had faded over the years, leaving it pink, like a flamingo. And the main portion of the lot hadn’t been empty long. It was full of ash. Black and gray and uneven, heaped up in some places, sagging down in others, with the scorched remnants of a brick fireplace in the approximate center.

Reacher climbed out of the VW. He could smell smoke. Hannah joined him on the sidewalk. She was blinking rapidly and her mouth was open but she didn’t speak. Reacher figured there wasn’t much to say. A minute later a man approached them from the next-door house. He looked to be in his sixties, tall, thin, with silver hair, a plaid shirt, and jeans that looked like they were in danger of falling down.

“Morning,” the guy said. “You folks new to the neighborhood?”

Reacher said, “What happened here?”

“There was a fire.”

Reacher caught an echo of his mother’s voice. Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. He said, “Really? When?”

“Last Saturday. Early in the morning.”

“How did it start?”

“The guy who owned the place was smoking a cigarette. That’s what I heard. He woke up, lit his first of the day, then fell back to sleep.”

“Was his name Danny Peel, the owner?”

The guy nodded.

Reacher said, “Where is he now?”

“We cremated him, Wednesday. Kind of ironic, given the way he went, but those were his wishes. There wasn’t much of a crowd. Just me and a couple of people from his work.”

“From the prison?”

The guy nodded again.

“Did people he worked with come by his house often?”

“There was one woman. Don’t know her name.”

“Anyone else?”

“He was a quiet kind of a guy. Didn’t seem to socialize much. Not at home, anyway.”

“Was anyone at his house on Saturday? Before the fire?”

“I doubt it. Like I said, it was early. And if anyone had been staying overnight, wouldn’t they have found more bodies?”

“Did you see anyone in the neighborhood? Anyone who isn’t normally here. Or any unusual vehicles?”

“No.”

“Did you notice if any of his windows were open that morning?”

“No. I went out to get the mail. Then I heard the sirens. I didn’t see anything. Why all the questions? You’re not a cop. Are you from the insurance company?”

“Me? No. I’m just naturally curious.”

Chapter 39

Hannah crossed the street without saying a word. She climbed back into the VW, rested her elbows on the steering wheel, and held her head in her hands. Reacher decided to take a look around. He didn’t expect to find much. The fire hadn’t left much trace of anything, but old habits die hard. He was curious. And he wanted to give Hannah some time to herself.