01x01 - Welcome to Margrave

[bunniefuu]

- [insects chirring]
- [owl hooting]

♪ ♪

- [two silenced g*nshots]
- [body thuds]

- [silenced g*nsh*t]
- [man grunts]

[body thuds]

[man grunting]

[thunder cracks]

[♪ Howlin' Wolf:
"Smokestack Lightning"]

♪ Ah-oh, smokestack lightnin' ♪

♪ Shinin' just like gold ♪

♪ Why don't you
hear me cryin'? ♪

♪ Whoo-hoo ♪

♪ Whoo-hoo ♪

♪ Whoo ♪

♪ Whoa-oh, tell me, baby ♪

♪ What's the matter with you...

- [entry bell jingles]
- I'm sorry.

- I'm not good at math.
- That was like a 40% tip!

[woman] I messed up, okay?

How am I supposed to get ahead

when you're wasting
my g*dd*mn money?

Just get your ass in the van.

The hell you want, assh*le?

I'm talking to you, stupid.

♪ Whoa-oh, tell me, baby ♪

♪ Why did you stay last night? ♪

♪ Why don't you
hear me cryin'...

Listen, man,
I'm just having a bad day.

♪ Whoo-hoo ♪

Won't happen again.

♪ Whoo...

[waitress] Coffee...
black... and peach pie.

Best you're gonna find
in Georgia.

- [bell dings]
- [newscast playing quietly]

- [dishes clinking]
- [cash register printing]

...is canceling their enhanced
drug enforcement efforts

off the Eastern Seaboard.

Sources say the program,
which began a year ago...

♪ Whoa-oh, stop your train ♪

- [sirens wailing]
- ♪ Let a poor boy ride ♪

♪ Why don't you
hear me cryin'? ♪

♪ Whoo-hoo ♪

♪ Whoo-hoo ♪

- [laughs]
- ♪ Whoo ♪

[playful chatter]

♪ Whoa-oh, fare you well...

[door opens]

- Police!
- [dishes crash]

Police! Don't move!

[Baker] Don't move,
don't move, don't move!

♪ Why don't you
hear me cryin'...

Now, you're gonna slide out
from behind that booth,

nice and slow.

Do it now!

Slow!

Hands.

♪ Whoa-oh...

Hands behind your head.
Hands behind your head!

Interlock your fingers!
Interlock your fingers!

Turn around.

Face the window!

Dessert's gonna have to wait.

You're under arrest for m*rder.

- [song fades]
- [vehicle passes]

Come on.

You can move faster than that.

[Roscoe] Sir?

If you step over here,
I can process you.

I'm not asking, sir.
I'm telling.

But don't worry, I won't kick
your ass unless you make me.

Thank you.

All right, I'll be
doing your intake.

So, first things first,
what is your name?

Sasquatch don't talk.

Had a passport on him, though.

Jack Reacher.

- No middle name.
- Zip ties?

Cuffs didn't fit him.

No stamps.

Newer than January 1st.

You planning on
leaving the country?

Everything else he was carrying.

- What's that about, 200?
- Two-twelve.

This looks like
some kind of foreign deal.

[Roscoe] World w*r II medal.
French.

[Morrison] No one moves around
holding just this.

Where you keeping
the rest of your sh*t?

You got a friend in town? Girl?

What the hell are you doing
in my town?

Don't want to talk?

Maybe we put you
in the holding cell,

get you to change your mind.

And how exactly
would you do that?

Explain to him
his constitutional rights

under the Fifth
and 14th Amendments,

then hope he waives them
of his own free will?

Yep.

No need. I've got it from here.

Take him to the conference room.
I'll be in in a moment.

- [quietly] Beantown bitch.
- [door closes]

Mr. Reacher, I'm
Chief Detective Oscar Finlay.

I'll be asking you
some questions.

I was informed
you were read your rights,

so you know
you don't have to answer.

Hmm.

Body was found by the highway
embankment, near an overpass,

partially covered by
flattened-out cardboard boxes.

Two nine-millimeter,
95-grain, close-range sh*ts

to the back of the head.

No casings found.

Victim was male, 30s, big guy.

He was beaten badly postmortem.

No I.D. yet.

Problem getting prints off
the body's swollen fingertips.

You know who this man was?

How he wound up dead?

Anything you want to share
besides your riveting company?

Okay, then.

Well, I'm not about to waste
the rest of my afternoon.

Maybe your
court-appointed attorney

will get you to open up.

I don't need a lawyer.

He speaks.

When he wants to.

And why don't you need a lawyer?

Because I didn't k*ll anybody.

At least not recently.

And not in this town.

[sighs] This is
kind of impossible.

- What's that?
- This Reacher fella.

So far, run on his prints
has been clean,

but something can still turn up.

But there's no Facebook,
Snapchat, Instagram.

No driver's license,
mortgage, insurance claims.

No online profile at all.

The only proof
Jack Reacher exists

is the fact that
he's sitting in that room.

[Finlay] Jack Reacher.
Parents deceased.

One brother, Joe,
older by two years.

Retired Army.

Commanded the 110th
Special Investigations Unit

of the m*llitary Police.

Took out a few men
in the course of your duties.

All ruled good kills.

What if I'm thinking
I'm sitting across from

a man who doesn't mind k*lling

and who has the knowledge
and training to m*rder someone

and cover it up?

You'd be right.

But not this m*rder.

Three men dropped this body.

Enlighten me.

sh**t was someone
who knows firearms well.

b*ll*ts were small caliber...
nine-millimeter, 95-grain.

That's subsonic.
A sil*ncer was used.

He also knew enough
to pick up his brass.

This wasn't a first-timer.

This was someone who knew how to
conduct a quiet, effective k*ll.

- Okay, go on.
- You're also looking for

a psycho who'd b*at up
a body postmortem,

someone completely unhinged.

Totally different profile
from your professional sh**t.

Something wrong?

No.

You said there were three.

Your psycho isn't suddenly
gonna be rational enough to know

he has to hide the body.

And your meticulous sh**t
isn't gonna do

a sloppy job
with roadside cardboard.

No, the third guy
is so worried about

getting out of there,
he grabs some nearby debris

and just lays it
across the corpse.

You said the victim was big,

so most likely
his feet were sticking out

and that's how he got spotted.

Tall people never have
enough room for their feet.

Interesting theory.

But you still match
the description of someone

seen walking the highway,
earlier today,

near where the body was found.

Well, that's 'cause it was me.

I got off the bus from Tampa
and walked to town.

Greyhound doesn't have
a stop in Margrave.

I never said it did.

You just said
you got off in Margrave.

I asked the driver
to do me a favor.

- Why?
- On account of Blind Blake.

- Okay. Who's that?
- Blues singer.

Legend has it he d*ed
in Margrave a long time ago.

I figured I'd learn
a bit about him.

I like music.

So you have no home, no phone.

You get on a bus in Tampa
with $212,

a toothbrush
and a French w*r medal

and travel over 500 miles

to read up on
a dead blues musician?

That sum up your past 24 hours?

No.

I also went to a diner,

ordered peach pie
and never got to eat it

'cause I was arrested
for m*rder.

[sighs] Okay.

Medical examiner puts
the victim's time of death

at around midnight last night.

This morning.

It's last night until
11:59 and 59 seconds,

and then it becomes
this morning.

In an investigation,
details matter.

12:00 a.m. this morning
is the time of death.

If I can confirm you were
on a Greyhound bus at that time,

you're cleared.

Until then,
you're in the holding cell.

We're running down
a phone number

found in the dead guy's shoe.

It was on a scrap of paper

with the word "Pluribus"
written on it.

Want to clear that up, too,
before we let you go?

Know anything about that?

Means I'm gonna be here
for a while.

Phone companies are slow
responding to warrants.

Too bad.

Law says we need a warrant.

Come on, you're in the hold.

♪ ♪

[Josephine] Reacher, why does
trouble always seem to find you?

Reacher, Reacher!

The whole moving truck
could've b*rned down.

What were you thinking?
You cannot pack fireworks.

[sighs] But they're from
the Fourth of July.

- [sighs]
- They're still good. [grunts]

This is the last of it.

Okay, next transfer,
I want half of the boxes.

I don't know how four people
accumulate all of this.

Ma'am, yes, ma'am.

Okay. Father and I will unpack.

You two,
go and meet the base kids.

This is home now,
hopefully for a while.

Go make friends.

[young Reacher] Think
we'll like it here?

School lessons will be the same.

Army-issued furniture
will be the same.

It'll be just like Cameroon,
Belgium and Spain.

You the new guys
that just moved in today?

Yeah. This the way to the beach?

Yeah.

But it's five bucks.

What's five bucks?

From the looks of it,
your jacket.

[laughs]

Yeah. I'm big for my age.

Just like you're ugly
for your age.

Let's just go home.

[grunts]

[panting]

Okay.

[sighs]

You don't have to do this.
It's my fight.

It's never just your fight.

You know, Mom was right.

Trouble does kind of
seem to find you.

♪ ♪

[indistinct
police radio chatter]

Thanks.

Been in here a while now.

Figured you could use
a pick-me-up.

Not my fault.

Trouble just kind of
seems to find me.

What I could really use
is getting these ties off.

[Roscoe] Chief Morrison
says they stay on.

Assumed you liked it black.

How'd you figure?

Seem like a no-nonsense guy.

Cream and sugar are nonsense.

So you know I'm innocent.

How do you figure?

I doubt it's procedure
to bring coffee to the guilty.

Well, if you are guilty
of something, can't be much.

Preliminary run on your prints
turned up nothing.

Bad guys set off
bells and whistles right away.

Roscoe, we're taking a ride.

Got a hit on the phone number.

Sorry. Ceramic.

[door opens, closes]

Thank you.

Sorry, Baker.

[Finlay] So, Paul,
when I called, I informed you

your cell number was found
at the situs of a crime.

You invited me over to chat
but never asked what crime.

Found that strange.

Well, you scared the sh*t
out of me.

- Hmm.
- [chuckles]

I wasn't thinking.

I just wanted to get you
over here so we could talk.

- About what?
- You tell me.

m*rder.

You know anything about that?

Unidentified male sh*t to death.

♪ ♪

He was found with your number

written on a paper scrap
in his shoe.

I did it. [clears throat]

I k*lled the guy.

It was me.

[Roscoe] Mr. Hubble,
for your protection and ours,

I'm going to record you
getting your rights.

No, I-I know my rights.

I understand I don't have to
talk or anything and that I get

a lawyer and all that,
but I did it, okay?

I k*lled the guy,
by the highway.

I was the one.

Okay, so this man you k*lled...

...what was his name?

I-I don't know.

You k*lled a man you don't know?

Yeah, that's right.

It was, uh... self-defense.

Okay, you said it took place
by the highway.

Where exactly along the highway?

I-I told you I did it, okay?

I'm not about to rehash
all the details.

You are my second
annoying interrogation today.

So you expect me
to believe that you,

a man with no criminal record,
that you just blew a man away?

A double-barrel shotgun blast
right to the face?

And then burnt the body?

Yes, I did.

And-and that's all
I'm gonna say about it.

Your life's about to get
very complicated, Mr. Hubble.

♪ ♪

[lock beeps, cell door opens]

Get in.

Reacher, come with me.

No.

Excuse me?

Not until you let
these zip ties come off.

We both know
I didn't k*ll anybody,

and they're uncomfortable.

Get the box cutter.

[Reacher] That's okay.

I got it.

[sighs]

[clears throat]

You guys recycle?

Outside. Uncuffed.

Treating me like a person
instead of a perp.

I've done the same thing
a million times when I want

a suspect to trust me
even when they shouldn't.

I have no ulterior motives,
just information.

That other guy,
Paul Hubble, banker.

Lives in Margrave,
works in Atlanta.

No priors.

He just confessed to the m*rder.

Oh. How nice.

- Thanks for the hospitality.
- Not so fast.

You want to run? Go for it.

But I doubt you're that fast
or that bulletproof.

I was just cleared.

One guy lied about
k*lling another guy.

- That doesn't clear you.
- Good town to m*rder in.

Even when you confess,
nothing happens to you.

Oh, you saw Hubble.
He's a citizen.

He can't sh**t pool
let alone sh**t a person.

He admitted to things
that didn't even happen.

He just wants me
to think he did it

and not look into
the matter any further.

You think I'm working with him.

Now that
he's implicated himself,

I'm worried
he might implicate me.

So maybe I'll cut a deal
and talk.

Maybe I'm just thinking
the guy who was seen

near the m*rder site,
guilty or not,

might still have
information to share.

I don't. But Stevenson does.

He and Hubble were
looking at each other.

They looked at each other?

They held eye contact
for a full two Mississippis.

Stevenson and Hubble have
cousins that married each other.

He's just worried about family.

It's more than that.

You always so confident
in your theories?

As confident as I am
that you went to Harvard,

you're recently divorced,

and you quit smoking
in the last six months.

How'd you come up with that?

My friend back there, Baker,
he called you a Beantown bitch.

And from all appearances,
you're well-educated,

but you took a job
in the middle of nowhere

with people that look
nothing like you.

You're stubborn. You have
a chip on your shoulder.

You don't care
if your coworkers like you.

A guy like that
doesn't go to B.U.

He goes to Harvard.

To show those blue-blood
assholes what he's capable of.

Am I right?

About going to Harvard? Yes.

You're also about 40,

which means you did your 20
at Boston P.D.

to get your pension, so you can
afford a proper Southern suit,

but you still look like
Black Sherlock Holmes.

Means no woman in your life
making sure you dress right.

Death or divorce.

At your age, divorce is
a higher probability.

But you still wear the ring.

By the wear on it, you play
with it, obsess over it.

Like I said, you're stubborn.

Still hoping to reconcile
with the old lady.

- Her name's Sharon.
- As for the smoking,

when I broke down
the three murderers back there,

you started to think
you had the wrong guy.

Stressed you out.

The water in your glass
moved a bit.

We're not on
any major fault lines.

That means your leg was
bouncing under the table.

That combined with
the slight aroma of cigarettes

in your suit... 'cause it's hard
to get out of... tweed...

and I assume
nicotine withdrawal.

Most studies show
it takes four to six months

to fully break a habit.

You keep up
the good work, though.

Those things are K*llers.

[sighs] Back inside.

♪ ♪

[phone ringing]

Follow me.

Stevenson, my office.

[indistinct
police radio chatter]

This man seems to think
you know something about Hubble

that you aren't sharing with me.

That true?

Answer isn't on your shoes.

Uh, sir, there was
a-a family party last night.

My, uh, grandparents,
their anniversary, their 50th...

I don't care.

Right.

Well, Hubble and Charlie
were there.

- Who's Charlie?
- Charlene. His wife.

We stayed late.
We danced with our wives.

Way past 2:00.
I drove them home.

[scoffs] I don't know
why his number

was in that guy's shoe,

and I don't know
why he confessed.

All I know is that at midnight,

he was nowhere near
that highway.

- Hubble into dr*gs?
- No.

- He cheat on his wife?
- No. He's a family man.

Don't answer his questions.
He's not your boss.

- [Stevenson] Right. Sorry.
- Does he having money problems?

I don't know what to do.

Just answer the question.

No. He's rich.

Okay. Get out of here.

[door opens]

dr*gs, money, infidelity.

If Stevenson's right,
we've eliminated the big three,

which means
the only way you'll know

why Hubble confessed
is if he tells you.

Yeah, well, maybe a weekend
in lockup will motivate him.

Let me know what he says.

What the hell does that mean?

You figured out I quit smoking

but can't figure out
what's happening right now?

This is bullshit.
You have a confession.

I helped with the investigation.

You helped me?

You seem to be confused about
your role in this situation.

You are my detainee and suspect,
not my partner or my equal.

And you're certainly not,
by employment, appearance

or lifestyle choice,
a cop anymore.

Now, Chief Morrison
wants you in custody

till we know for sure
that all six-foot-four of you

was on that bus from Tampa.

Six-foot-five.

In an investigation,
details matter.

Here's a detail for you.

We keep extra-large cuffs
in our lockbox.

Inventory his watch and ring.

They'll steal them first
five minutes he's in there.

It was nice talking to you.

♪ ♪

Thanks.

For the watch thing.

Shut up.

You ruined my trip here.

[brakes squeak, hiss]

Jesus.

- My name's Officer Spivey.
- [thunder rumbling]

Time to follow
the yellow brick road, inmates.

Y'all be housed far away
from the animal factory,

till they can line up
a weekend arraignment for you.

[thunder rumbling]

All the fixings.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Ain't no jumper
gonna fit you, big boy.

But a Samoan fella come through
here last year... meth dealer...

had scrubs made up special.

Might be a little tight
in the shoulders.

[spits]

Whoa! Not so fast.

Drop them drawers,
bend over and spread.

No.

Blanket strip search policies
are unconstitutional

unless there's clear articulable
suspicion of criminal activity.

The victim
I'm suspected of murdering

was sh*t by a handgun that would
measure four inches by six.

That w*apon's
not fitting inside me

or any other human being without
sending them to a hospital.

Since that's the only contraband
related to this crime,

your request is unlawful.

It's not like I want to do this.

Regulations say...

The only thing up my ass
right now is you.

So if you think you can
perform the inspection

without getting
seriously injured, go for it.

Otherwise, check the box
on your clipboard.

[cell door buzzes]

♪ ♪

Go on.

Mm-hmm.

Really sorry
I got you into this.

- It wasn't my intention...
- Remember when I said

"shut up" on the bus?

Same rule goes for jail.

[birds chirping]

[cell door buzzes]

[doors opening in distance]

[indistinct chatter in distance]

[rap music playing in distance]

[rap music continues
in distance]

[rap music and chatter continue]

- Well, that's not good.
- What's going on?

We're not with guys
awaiting arraignment.

- We're with the lifers.
- What do you mean, lifers?

I mean people
sentenced for life.

[rap music and chatter continue]

[whistling]

If I were you, I'd be less
worried about their sentences

and more concerned
with their swaps.

Swaps?

Guys swapping smokes,
desserts, TV time,

all for first cr*ck at you.

You're not a human in here.
You're currency.

So stop stressing
and save your strength.

[sighs]

Gonna need it.

There she is.

Whoo. She pretty.

Look, she even got
pretty little shoes on.

Give me them shoes, baby.

Come on, now. You heard me.

Give me my shoes
like a good little bitch.

I said give them to me.

Good girl.

I like them glasses, too.
Give me my glasses.

[hawks]

Now there's just one more thing
I want from you.

[bed creaking]

♪ ♪

[laughs]

Look at this
redwood m*therf*cker.

What you want?

[Reacher] To give you a choice.

See, you're in my house, fatso,
and you didn't ask permission.

So you and your friends
can leave now,

or they can carry
your fat ass out in a bucket.

Now I'll count to three.

Bitch, do you know
who you talking to?

One.

Two.

You owe us a pair of glasses.

Now get out of my cell.

[♪ Lowpass Lushes featuring
1STCLSS: "Line 'Em Up"]

♪ Line 'em up, line 'em up,
your time is up ♪

♪ Time is up, time is up,
so line 'em up ♪

♪ Line 'em up, line 'em up,
your time is up ♪

♪ Time is up, time is up,
so line 'em up ♪

- ♪ Line 'em up...
- [inmates chattering]

I'm not a ventriloquist.

Get off my lap.

I won't let anybody touch you.

[Hubble] Thank you.

You're the only thing
keeping me alive in here.

[exhales sharply]

I'm in big trouble.

- No sh*t.
- I'm not a criminal.

A f*cking currency manager.

They gave me no choice.

These guys, they forced me

to help them with
their financial scheme, okay?

And I know everyone
who's ever caught

says they were forced into it,
but I really was.

And the people
I'm working for made it clear

- if I jam them up...
- Then you'd be k*lled.

I wish that were all.

My bosses promised,
if I disrupt their operation

in any way, they'd...

[chuckles] They'd
nail me to a wall.

Literally.

In front of my family.

They'd cut my balls off
and make me eat 'em.

Then they'd bleed me and
my wife out slow so we'd die

knowing our kids were left
with those psychos,

not knowing
what would be done to them.

I'm gonna hit the head.

I'll go with you.

Figured as much.

[showers running]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Him.

♪ ♪

If you boys knew what's about to
happen to you, you'd leave now.

So I'll give you
to the count of three.

One.

[yells]

[screams]

[man over P.A.] Security team
to gen pop shower four.

- Against the wall! Move!
- [alarm buzzing]

[grunting]

[groans]

[screams]

[yells]

[screams]

[alarm continues buzzing]

What the hell are
you two doing down here?

Come on. Let's go,
before the warden sees.

Let's go! Let's go!

[cell door buzzes]

My report says
you were placed upstairs.

Why are you in gen pop?

- That's where the guy put us.
- [door buzzes]

Anyone asks,
you've been here the whole time.

Understand?

[door closes]

[sighs]

[♪ Howard Tate:
"Get It While You Can"]

[sighs]

♪ In this world ♪

♪ Where people ♪

♪ Are fighting with each other ♪

♪ Nobody to count on ♪

♪ Not even your own brother ♪

♪ So if someone comes along ♪

♪ Who gives you
genuine affection ♪

- ♪ Get it while you can ♪
- [line ringing]

♪ Get it while you can...

[Sharon] Hi.
This is Sharon Finlay.

Leave a message,
and I'll get you back.

- [beep]
- Hey.

It's me. Um...

I'm just, uh... [sighs]

I'm just dealing
with a tough case...

...alone in the middle
of Georgia, and I just...

...wish you would call me back.

♪ Baby ♪

♪ We may not be here tomorrow...

[knock on door]

- [Finlay clears throat]
- [song stops]

Uh, come in.

Boss. Got Reacher's
m*llitary record from D.C.

You want to hear the back
of his baseball card?

I do.

West Point graduate.

Silver Star.

Defense Superior Service Medal.

Legion of Merit,
Soldier's Medal,

Army Commendation Medal,
Bronze Star,

a second Silver Star
and a Purple Heart

for wounds sustained
in the bombing

of a Marines barracks
in Kandahar.

"Major Reacher
ran into the inferno,

carrying soldiers out
two at a time.

Witnesses report six separate
trips, confirming 12 were saved.

Major Reacher suffered
severe smoke inhalation,

but returned to active duty
32 hours later despite having

shrapnel remains of a jawbone
removed from his abdomen."

- Want to hear his MP numbers?
- No.

Over 150 closed cases,
all successful prosecutions,

more than 20 fugitives captured.

What in God's name is a guy
like that doing in Margrave?

What's a guy like that
doing in jail?

Hate to be the one
who put him in there.

Get out of my office.

[door opens, closes]

♪ ♪

[sighs]

[over speakers] ♪ Wake up ♪

[♪ Jordan Max:
"Let Me Do My Thing"]

♪ Wake up ♪

♪ Get up ♪

♪ Get up ♪

♪ Wake up...

[Hubble] I been hoping
a Beatles song would come on.

They soothe me.

Ever since Mama'd sing me "Rocky
Raccoon" when I had a cold.

♪ Let me do my thing ♪

♪ Let me do my thing ♪

♪ Yes, I felt...

Sorry if I woke you.

- It's okay.
- [music volume decreases]

[birds chirping]

[Hubble] Came a while ago.

You-you can have mine.

I don't have an appetite.

♪ Yes, I felt my pain ♪

♪ Hmm, yeah ♪

[Reacher clears throat]

♪ As I'm falling to sleep ♪

♪ In hope that someone listens ♪

♪ Pray the Lord hears me,
innocent people going missing ♪

♪ On the journey to the riches ♪

♪ While we're standing,
taking pictures...

You should eat.

You look like hell.

That's 'cause I saw you
gouge a man's eyes out.

He started it.

♪ Finding you a new replacement,
nothing's wrong with me...

They might try to k*ll me
as soon as I'm bailed out.

You important
to their operation?

♪ Let me do my thing ♪

♪ Yes, I felt my pain...

Real important.

Then you're probably okay.

But bodies are falling.
Means someone's getting nervous.

When that happens,
things can change fast.

I'm more curious why whoever
you work for wants me dead.

- What do you mean?
- That guard from last night,

Spivey,

he set us up in gen pop.

He'd play it off like it was
some kind of innocent mistake,

but it was intentional.

Guys in the shower I.D.'d me
as a person to take out.

Once I'm out of here, I'm gone,

Something bad's
going down in Margrave,

and I don't need
to be a part of it.

[gate buzzes]

♪ ♪

My wife should be here soon.

I don't give a sh*t.

Figured a guy with no money,
I.D. or car could use a lift.

[engine revving]

- [Reacher] That's me.
- [Roscoe] Greyhound confirmed

that's their Tampa station
two nights ago.

No way you could've been in
Margrave in time to k*ll anyone.

Common carriers are
notoriously difficult.

N-Nothing without a warrant.
How'd you get them to cooperate?

Lied.

Said that we suspected
one of their employees

of using their buses
to transport coke.

If they didn't cooperate,
promised to pull

a civil forfeiture
on everything with wheels

until our investigation
was over.

Got that video within the hour.

So you cleared me,

but how does the guy
who confessed walk away?

[scoffs] Well, everybody
knows that Hubble's lying,

so we're holding off on charges,

hoping that a nervous guy like
him just does something dumb

that leads us to the truth

or just cracks and spills
what really went down.

Smart approach, Officer Roscoe.

Roscoe's actually my first name.

Never met a woman
named Roscoe before.

Yeah, you did.

A day ago.

So what's your last name?

Conklin.

Caught a love tap inside?

I got set up.

- By who?
- Some guard.

Just the errand boy.

But whoever he took orders
from wanted me gone,

and they're gonna get
what they want.

I'm on the next bus out of here.

That's a shame. [scoffs]

I feel bad about the Margrave
welcome wagon running you over.

I was gonna apologize
with an early dinner,

but if you're not
sticking around...

Okay.

Great.

But I'm gonna need
some new clothes first.

Lockup's made me a bit gamey.

Oh, we got
a Merl's Men's Shop in town.

I don't need anything
that fancy.

Just T-shirt and jeans.

I travel light.

[Roscoe] You sure you don't
want to get new threads?

[Reacher] They'll be new to me.

[Roscoe] I don't get it.

Don't you want
a home base or something?

Had a home base my whole life.

Grew up in the m*llitary,
worked in the m*llitary.

Always told where to go,
when to be there.

Now I see my country
on my own terms.

What about money?

Pension's wired to
a Western Union each month.

Don't you miss your family?

I guess so. They're all dead.

Except for my brother Joe.

- He's a good guy.
- Where's he?

No idea.

[entry bell jingles]

[Roscoe] So what really
brought you to Margrave?

Can't be some blues singer.

I don't lie to people
who get me out of jail.

I'm here because of Blind Blake,

but actually
it's on account of Chauncey.

Who's Chauncey?

A couple days ago, I go to
Chauncey's Bar & Grill in Tampa.

Guy there was playing "Police
Dog Blues" by Blind Blake.

I remembered
a conversation I had

with my brother Joe
a while back.

Read some article about Blake,
said he played his last show

in Margrave,
and that's where he d*ed.

So I got on a bus.

So you just go wherever
you want, whenever you want?

Everyone's always jealous.

Well, yeah, that's, um...

...an interesting
approach to life.

Works for me.

♪ ♪

So I'll check out
the town for a while

- and see you in a bit.
- Sounds good.

Now, don't go getting yourself
arrested for m*rder again.

[♪ Mississippi Fred McDowell:
"Shake 'Em on Down"]

♪ If you see my baby,
Lordy, stand around ♪

♪ You know we somewhere,
baby, Lord, mama ♪

♪ Shake 'em on down,
Lordy, must I low ♪

♪ ♪

♪ If you come to my house,
you don't find me around ♪

♪ You know we somewhere,
baby, Lord, mama ♪

♪ Shake 'em on down ♪

♪ Lordy, must I low...

♪ ♪

[song continues quietly
over speakers]

[Mosley] If you want a trim,

you got to wait.

It's Mosley's meal time.

I was thinking a shave,
Mr. Mosley.

Blind alley cat
can shave and eat.

Heard Mississippi Fred McDowell
coming from your shop.

Thought a blues fan
might be able to tell me

a bit about Blind Blake's
time in Margrave.

Huh.

Surprised a white man
your age knows Fred McDowell.

More surprised
you know Blind Blake,

Mr. Reacher.

Small town.

When a giant stranger
gets arrested for m*rder,

word gets around.

Course, Ms. Roscoe cleared you,
so I ain't scared of you none.

My age, I ain't scared
of nothing much.

Yeah, me neither.

And everyone
just calls me Reacher.

Even my mother did.

Well, back you go.

You know, my sister sang
with Blake a few times

back in the day.

He'd come through town
each year,

play the church or some barn
in the sticks. [chuckles]

- I heard he d*ed here.
- That's the rumor.

People would come from
all over town to hear it,

even white folks.

[Reacher] One hell
of a town it is.

Freshly painted gazebo.

Manicured flower beds.

Statue recently polished.

Got to think it's more
than civic pride.

[chuckles] That it is.

The Kliner Foundation
takes care of Margrave.

Ever since Mr. Kliner came
to town about five years back

from St. Louis to set up
his company right here.

What kind of company is that?

[scoffs] You name it,
Kliner do it.

Real estate, trucking,
chemicals, machine parts.

That statue out there?
Casper Teale?

His grandson's our mayor.

He gave Kliner a sweetheart
land deal for his factory.

And in return, Kliner pours
money into the town.

Win-win.

[Mosley] That there
is Kliner Jr.

and his bughouse cousin Dawson.

Everyone calls Junior KJ.

I call him trouble.

Keep my seat warm, would you?

You looking for a dance partner?

'Cause the last person
who eyeballed me like that

was a woman down in Panama

when I was stationed
at Fort Sherman,

and she wanted to dance
the tamborito with me.

Do you want to dance
the tamborito with me?

- Hell, I'll dance.
- Not talking to you, peewee.

I was talking to the guy
in pricier boots,

better haircut
and expensive truck

he lets you sit shotgun in.

[chuckles]

So...

...you want me to lead or...?

I'm not much of a dancer.

More of an academic
and a reader.

Fact, I was reading something
interesting just this morning

about some charges brought
against a Major Jack Reacher

in a small village
outside of Baghdad.

Charges of
a very serious nature,

but charges
that somehow disappeared,

like grains of sand
in an unforgiving desert.

Somehow, the desert ended up
forgiving you, didn't it?

We don't forgive as easily
in Margrave.

Watch your back, Mr. Reacher.

♪ ♪

[sniffs]

[engine starts]

[door opens]

[footsteps running]

[engine starts]

- [siren wailing]
- [tires squealing]

Hey.

Sorry, dinner's
not gonna happen.

- What's going on?
- Another body was found.

In the brush, 40 yards
from the first one.

Same caliber b*llet.

Got to go to the morgue.

Can't say I'm not disappointed.

I was looking forward
to spending time with you

- before leaving.
- [siren wailing]

Well, I don't know if you're
going anywhere just yet.

[Finlay] Reacher!

Did Hubble talk
when you two were locked up?

- [Reacher] No.
- Baloney.

Easy, Finlay.
Watch your language.

You think this is funny?

I got a town of 1,700 people
and two homicides.

He didn't talk to me
the whole time we were in there.

- I don't believe you.
- I don't care.

- Dinner would've been nice.
- You're not going anywhere.

My alibi cleared.

Just 'cause we know you weren't
here when these bodies dropped

doesn't mean you might not
have something to do with them.

So I'm wondering if maybe it was

some other six-foot-five gorilla
on that grainy Greyhound tape.

Maybe I need to bring in
a forensic expert

to confirm it was you.

And maybe you need to cool
your heels back in Warburton

while we get that done over
the next two or three weeks.

Or you get in the car,
we go to the morgue.

Perhaps the medical examiner
will say something

that jars your memory
about Hubble

and you can share it with me.

First you make it clear
I'm not a cop anymore.

Now you want my help?

I want you to do what I say.

Now.

♪ ♪

[Jasper] Sometimes you're dead
and you don't even know it.

This second guy, he was sh*t
in the back of the head

while running away,
but his legs kept pumping

for a few more feet
before his brain told him,

"Hey, buddy, you're dead,"
so he fell over into the weeds.

At least that's what the blood
spatters at the scene said.

He was sh*t from far enough away
and it was so dark

he couldn't be found, so
the k*ller just left him there.

No I.D. on him.

K*llers.

In an investigation,
details matter.

Most likely more than one doer.

Well, these are
my first murders,

so please tell me you know
who did this. [chuckles]

[Roscoe] Mm-mm.

[Finlay] What about
our first John Doe?

- Any luck?
- [Jasper] Nope.

He's been harder to cr*ck
than a steel walnut.

Dental work was inconsistent.

Some of it was done in the U.S.,
and the rest was foreign.

And his fingertips
were compromised by

a dermatitis reaction.

So swollen,
prints wouldn't come out clean

until I drained
some of the fluid.

We're waiting for the results.

Whoa. No, do not...

Um, is he new
on the force or...?

No.

Well, kind of.

[Reacher] First victim
was allergic to latex.

K*llers must've worn some kind
of polyvinyl protective suit

to keep blood DNA
off themselves.

The victim grabbed it in the
struggle, causing his fingertips

to swell in
a histaminic reaction.

His dental work's off
'cause he had his teeth fixed

wherever he was living
at the time.

Broke his right arm when he was
eight, had it set in Berlin.

Had his tonsils taken out
at ten in Seoul.

♪ ♪

[Reacher] We were wrestling.

I pinned him against the stove.

Didn't know my mother
had just turned it off.

That's how my brother
got this scar.

♪ ♪

[Finlay] You tell me right now
what's going on.

What was your brother
doing in Margrave?

- I don't know.
- So it's just a coincidence

you and he are passing through
the exact same Podunk town

at the exact same
moment in time?

- I don't know.
- When's the last time you saw Joe?

A minute ago in the morgue.

- You being smart with me?
- I'm being straight with you.

Hell, no wonder Sharon left you.

You keep my wife's name
out of your mouth.

[Roscoe] No. Enough.

Reacher, you crossed a line.

Finlay, let it rest.

This man just lost his brother.

[Finlay] One question,
and I want the truth.

What are you doing
here in Margrave?

Blind Blake!

You're messing with
the wrong man.

I'll tell you that right now.

I swear, I'm gonna find
any reason I can

to lock you up again.

Oh, you won't even
get the cuffs on me.

Okay, this isn't gonna happen.
Reacher, sit in the back.

Hey. I know you're not
the kind of guy to b*at up

on somebody half your size
without good reason.

- He's giving me a reason.
- Yeah?

Well, I know people.

And you've got kind eyes.

Do what I say, Reacher.

Please.

♪ ♪

You okay, Reacher?

Just thinking maybe my brother
told me about Blind Blake

for a reason.

Thinking about him
lying in that morgue.

Thinking I'm supposed
to do something about it.

Like what?

I guess I'll find
everybody responsible.

And k*ll every last one of them.

[♪ The Rolling Stones:
"Can't You Hear Me Knocking"]

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Yeah, you got satin shoes ♪

♪ Yeah, you got plastic boots ♪

♪ Y'all got cocaine eyes ♪

♪ Yeah, you got
speed-freak jive, now ♪

♪ Can't you hear me knockin'
on your window? ♪

♪ Can't you hear me knockin'
on your door? ♪

♪ Can't you hear me knockin'
down your dirty street? ♪

♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Help me, baby ♪

♪ Ain't no stranger ♪

♪ Help me, baby ♪

♪ Ain't no stranger ♪

♪ Help me, baby ♪

♪ Ain't no stranger ♪

♪ Can't you hear me knockin'? ♪

♪ Ah, are you safe asleep? ♪

♪ Can't you hear me knockin'? ♪

♪ Yeah, down the
gas light street, now ♪

♪ Can't you hear me knockin'? ♪

♪ Yeah, throw me down the keys ♪

♪ All right, now ♪♪