01x02 - First Dance

[bunniefuu]

Where do you think you're going?

Reacher!

Reacher, get back here!

Maybe give him some space.

I don't need 250 pounds
of frontier justice

tearing up this town.

Follow him, make sure
he doesn't ruin our case.

Why me?

Outside the morgue,
he actually listened to you.

And what if he doesn't now?

sh**t him.

We got
a stranded vehicle

around 80 on the eastbound side.

247. About ten out.

sh*t!

The hell?
I could have hit you.

I don't need a babysitter
and I don't need you

screwing up my investigation.

Okay, first...
this is not your investigation.

Second, babysitting
some giant vagrant

is hardly my dream assignment.

I could be out there looking
for who k*lled your brother.

So stand down
and let me do my job,

because I'm very good at it.

If you were very good at it,
you wouldn't have been trying

to follow a man on foot
in a police car.

I figure your plan's to go
to Hubble's house

and dig your thumb into his eye
until he tells you

why he confessed to a m*rder
he didn't commit.

- Something like that.
- Yeah, well, I'm gonna be there

to make sure
that doesn't happen.

Now, I can either follow you
the whole way,

or you can save the shoe leather
and get in the damn car.

f*ck.

For the record,
I'm not a vagrant, I'm a hobo.

Whatever.

Officer Conklin, uh,
Mr. Reacher, please come in.

I'm so sorry,
Paul won't be back till late.

But at least now I get a chance
to thank you, Mr. Reacher.

- It's just Reacher.
- Well.

Reacher.

My husband told me
that you looked out for him

in that awful prison.

Please, have a seat.

Do you, uh...
do you know where Paul is?

No, not specifically.

He's dealing
with that embezzlement mess.

Thank God he was cleared
of all that.

Can you imagine?
Paul, a criminal?

Man's never
so much as jaywalked.

I assume that's why you're here.
The bank stuff?

No.

My brother was m*rder*d.

Dear God. I...

I don't know what to say.

That the man they found
by the highway?

He was.

And he had your husband's
telephone number on him.

Well, that doesn't make
any sense. Why?

Well, that's what we're here
to find out.

Why my dead brother had your
live husband's number on him.

Well, I have no idea.

Momma?

Is it 8:30 already?

I'm sorry, but I've got to get
these two to bed.

Girls, say hi to Officer Conklin
and Mr. Reacher.

- Hello, Mr. Conklin.
- Hello, Mr. Reacher.

- Hello, Mr. Reacher.
- Hello, Mr. Conklin.

- Mm-hmm.
- It's just... Reacher.

Well, this is Lucy and Tally.

- Have y'all brushed your teeth?
- Yes.

All right, then get on.
I'll be up in a minute.

Well, Tally's growing
like a weed.

Yeah, I know.

She's the one with the glasses.

Can you believe she's
a year younger than Lucy?

May I use your restroom?

Yeah, of course.
Through the kitchen,

down the hall and to the left.

...something
like this happens.

We've taken up enough
of your time.

Have a nice evening.

Roscoe.

Um...
well, guess we're going.

- Sorry about that.
- No.

Have a good evening.
Thank you for your time,

and, uh...

- I'll see you.
- Yes. Good night.

That was an exit.

Two things. One, she said Tally
is the one in the glasses.

Glasses is the main difference
between the girls.

Everything else was
a matter of degree,

taller, shorter,
but glasses was absolute.

One wears them, one doesn't.

And?

Right before I was att*cked
in prison,

a guy pointed at me
and said, "Him."

I'd taken a guy's glasses.

- Why?
- 'Cause he wasn't a nice man.

I still had them on
when these cons came at me.

Their instructions were clearly
to find the new boys

and take out the one in glasses.

Hubble's had been smashed.
He was the target, not me.

Hubble's on the run,
or they've already got him.

Okay.

You said there were two things.

This is some kind of seed.

Why would a banker have them
on his dress shoes?

You went in his closet?

No. Mud room.

It's an agrimony burr.

They grow on tall grass
all around here.

We call them hitchhikers,
'cause they stick on you

and they go for a ride.

They grow
where my brother was k*lled?

This is cogongrass.

Had it on my uncle's farm.
It doesn't produce burrs.

Okay.

Still some reason
they were on his laces.

You don't pick up hitchhikers
in bank hallways.

I told Finlay the sh**t was
someone who knew firearms well,

but it was more than that.

k*ller was a skilled marksman.

What makes you think that?

Second victim was sprinting away
in the dark.

g*n had a sil*ncer on it,

which makes even
close-range work inaccurate,

but he got a k*ll sh*t.

Prints are Joe's.

Size 13. See the divot?

Heard someone coming up
behind him.

Tried to turn.
Took two in the head

before he could do anything
about it.

sh**t came through here.

Waiting for Joe.

Knew he was coming.

Two days ago,
moon would have been

about 26 degrees further west.

This area
would have been darker.

This is where he hid.

He enjoyed it.

sn*per sh*t from the tree line
would have done the job

with less risk.

The sh**t wanted to be close.

Maybe it was personal.

Someone takes your life,
it's always personal.

Tell me about Joe.

Were you guys tight?

Did he have a family?

What'd he do for a living?

Small talk to see
if I say something

to help your investigation?

I'm being nice to a guy
who just lost his brother.

But, you know,
now that you brought it up,

you might as well answer
my questions.

In order:
when we were kids; no family;

last time we spoke he was
working in Homeland Security.

That's interesting.

You think that this might have
been connected to his job?

Homeland's a big umbrella:
terrorism, dr*gs,

g*ns, border crimes.

- What department was your brother in?
- Don't know.

We hadn't spoken in a while.

Why?

Time passed.

- Where you going?
- To find a motel.

- I'll give you a ride.
- Don't want one.

Hey. Mister.

Why don't you come here?
We want to talk to you.

- No, you don't.
- "No, you don't."

Hey, come here.

We just want to talk to you.

Heard you got arrested
for m*rder.

What kind of bullshit
you bring into our town?

There's two sixers' worth
of empties around your car.

You've been waiting a while.

And since this isn't
the most exciting spot in town,

I got to assume
you've been waiting for me.

Let me guess.
Rich guy in a fancy pickup

put a fifty in each of your
pockets to take care of me?

Hundred.

Right. Well, this is
the wrong day to ask me

to humor your bullshit.

Hey!

We're talking to you, man.

Oh, Graham, you idiot.

You're about to get
your ass kicked.

No.

I'm just gonna break the hands
of three drunk kids.

There's four of us here.

One of you has got to drive
to the hospital.

Ooh...

I-I know where the hospital is.

What the hell
just rolled into Margrave?

Hey, buddy.

You okay?

- Good boy.
- Hey. Hey.

- Can I help you?
- No.

Just giving your dog some water.

I must've knocked the bowl over,

'cause I gave him water
this morning.

No, you didn't.

Bowl was bone-dry.

You calling me a liar?

Yes.

Well, I suggest
you leave my property.

Good boy.

What are you doing here?

Wanted to check in,

see if there's any official
progress on Joe's case

before I head back out
to Hubble's.

I can't talk right now.

There's been another m*rder.

Police Chief Morrison.

For the record, I didn't do it.

I know.

What, did you stake me out
all night?

Last night you wanted
to go everywhere with me.

Captain.

What did they do to the chief?

Baker won't talk about it.

Just keep the lookie-loos away,
all right?

Yes, sir.

- What is he doing here?
- You told me to keep an eye on him.

I'm keeping an eye on him.

Look. There he is.

Crime scene's worse than
anything I ever saw in Boston.

And I saw things in Boston.

Was he nailed to a wall?

How did you know that?

Hey.

These lacerations
appear to be shallow

and were possibly done
with a serrated blade,

which leads me to believe
that they were intended

to inflict pain
rather than cause death.

Preliminary examination
of Police Chief Edward Morrison.

Subject has been nailed
to the wall contralaterally

with six spikes,

two of which were driven
between the ulna and the radius

- near the wrist and...
- Jesus Christ.

One laceration
to the left cheek.

Prints?

I ask the questions,
like this one:

how'd you know about the nails?

Even in Margrave,
word doesn't travel that fast.

They wore rubber overshoes
and gloves. Latex.

Like whoever k*lled my brother.

What makes you say that?

Well, three people k*lled
my brother.

At least four to do that
to a guy Morrison's size.

Holy sh*t,
his f*cking balls are gone!

Keep it professional, Jasper.

Cursing's the sign
of a weak mind

- and a weaker character.
- Sorry, I'm just not used to this.

You don't see this kind of thing
every day.

Pardon my French, but...

where the heck
are his testicles?

In his stomach.

You'll find them
during the autopsy.

Okay, Reacher, outside.

No more games.

How do you know what you know?

The people Hubble worked for
said they'd nail him to a wall

and cut his balls off
if he caused problems.

You said Hubble didn't tell you
anything in jail.

I lied. My brother didn't trust
Margrave cops enough to tell you

he was tracking something
down here. Why should I?

Ever think your brother
didn't reach out to the cops

because he couldn't reach out
to the cops?

- Maybe he was dirty. Maybe...
- Think real hard before you finish that sentence.

It'll determine how well your
jaw works the rest of your life.

Joe was clean.

Unlike that modern art piece
hanging inside.

So you're saying
that Morrison was working

with the same K*llers
Hubble was mixed up with?

That or we just saw a big fat
coincidence nailed to the wall.

What I want to know is who else
in Margrave PD's in on it.

Stevenson seems suspicious,
and Baker wouldn't go

into the bathroom with me
at the station house.

A bathroom with a window in it.

I was a m*rder suspect.

Baker wasn't concerned

'cause he knew you didn't do it.

Which means he knows who did.

Want to tell me who else
on my team is crooked?

Sure. Roscoe checks out,

'cause she dug in
to get me out of prison.

But you're hiding something.

Tell me, why does
a Black cop from Boston

with a 20-year pension come work
in a Southern backwater town

in the middle of nowhere?

You next in line
for Morrison's job?

For your information,

Mayor Teale
didn't promote Finlay.

He just appointed himself
acting chief.

Since when?

This morning.
Came here to tell you.

Whoever's running this
had Morrison under his thumb.

No one sits in the chief's chair
unless they're under it, too.

They skipped you
to get to Teale.

So I guess that means
he's dirty and you're okay.

Nothing means more to me
than your vote of confidence.

But you're probably right.

At least we know
who we can trust.

I'm gonna call my buddy
at the FBI...

Ah. Teale's first order was:
no staties, no Feds.

- He wants this kept in-house.
- Outside investigators

will send whoever did this
into hiding.

We'll let them think they've
got it under control for now.

There's no "we" here.

The Morrisons were k*lled
for a misstep...

Not pinning the m*rder on me,

Hubble walking out
of prison alive...

But the way they were k*lled
sent a message

to their organization:

Don't screw up
and don't cross us.

You two think
you can go it alone?

You can't go it alone.

There's only "we" here.

You don't see that, I'll find
whoever k*lled Joe on my own.

Great. Teale's called
an emergency town meeting.

Be careful around him.

Came down South
for peace and quiet.

Now I've caught four bodies.

Five.

Hubble, probably.

If they'd do this to a cop,
why not a banker?

Roscoe...

On my way there now.

Oh. I thought
you might've been Paul.

That's why I left the gate open.

He never came home?

He called late last night,
said that he had to speak

to some people about sorting out
this bank madness,

and when I woke,
I realized he'd never come home.

His phone goes to voice mail.

Listen, I...
I have been with Paul

since freshman year, UGA.

He has never once not come home.

Okay, all right, just a minute.

Um...

I'll stay here since I'm armed.

You go find Finlay.

He'll know what to do with them,

but they need
some kind of protection.

I need your car.

You see anyone under six five
come near this house...

- sh**t 'em.
- Finlay's five eight.

- Yup.
- Are you taking that Kn*fe?

You want to give me your g*n?

That's what I thought.

We will find
the person or persons

responsible for these crimes.

And we will punish them

to the fullest extent
of the law.

If they're k*lling cops
in their own homes,

then what chance
do any of us got?

A damn good chance.
Because as of today,

per the powers given to me

by the town charter,

I have appointed myself
chief of police.

And I will not sleep

until we have the perpetrators
behind bars

and on their way
to getting the needle!

But what the hell
do you know

- about law enforcement?
- That's right!

We need us a real police chief

and a real chief detective, too.

- Yeah!
- Think he's talking about you.

All due respect,

but what does some Yankee cop
know about Margrave?

- Yeah!
- That's right.

We ain't seen a m*rder
in 20 years,

and now there's four...
Four! in two days.

Do we have a serial k*ller
in Margrave or not?

These killings are not related.

Oh? What about that animal
you arrested out at the diner?

- Yeah!
- I think she's talking about you.

He comes to town,
and people just start dying?

Y'all had him in jail.
Why'd you let him go?

Order!

Order!

Everyone, please!

Please. Calm down. Sit down.

Sit down.

I know you're all scared.

But Mr. Reacher has
a rock-solid alibi.

And for those of you
who don't know,

one of the victims was
Mr. Reacher's brother, Joseph.

So he has as much invested

in finding these murders
as any one of us here.

You know...

when I moved Kliner Industries
to this town five years ago,

Margrave was run-down.

Broken.

- Main Street boarded up. Right?
- Yeah.

But I said to myself,

these are the kind of people
who can bounce back.

Right? Who can survive anything.

I have faith
in our police force.

I have faith
in Chief Detective Finlay.

I have faith
in our new chief of police,

Mayor Teale.

And I promise I will provide
whatever funds,

whatever resources
to find whomever is responsible

for these heinous acts.

You have my word.

Mayor Teale.

A word?

Chief Teale now, Captain.

Mm, of course. My mistake.

I just wanted to let you know

that I'm gonna start
cross-referencing forensics

from both m*rder sites
to establish pattern.

Pattern? What the hell
has Morrison and his wife

got to do with an out-of-towner

and some fella he was probably
diddlin' under an overpass?

Well, that's
what I want to find out.

These killings are not related.

Over the course of his career,

Morrison took countless
criminals out of circulation.

Comb the archives,

track down the biggest scumbags
he ever arrested

who have since been released
or paroled, pardoned,

everything in between...

that's how you're gonna find
his k*ller.

Those are your orders.

You copy, Captain?

And the bodies by the highway?

A police officer was crucified!

I think that takes priority.

Or did they do things
differently

up there in Massachusetts?

Hmm?

Copy that.

Teale's trying to frame
the Morrison hit

as a revenge k*lling.

Just sent me off
to chase my tail.

- Told you he's dirty.
- I'm prone to agree,

but incompetence
can look like malevolence,

and it's
a whole lot more common.

You know who's not incompetent?

Kliner.

You one
of those conspiracy nuts?

Guys with the kind
of money and power Kliner wields

are rarely angels.

We need to look into him.

You want this town to hate you
more than it already does?

Then start smearing Kliner.
And I'm not gonna be able

to look into anyone
except the losers

in Morrison's old case files.

No, that's what you'll pretend
to do. Roscoe, too.

Give us cover
while we work the real angles.

Like Joe's rental car.

Must have had one, but none
was left at the m*rder scene.

You're handing out
assignments now?

Yes. And the next one has to do
with Hubble's wife and kids.

They need protection,
even if Hubble's already dead.

These guys get antsy,
think Charlie has

even a one percent chance
of knowing anything...

I get it.

My FBI buddy I wanted
to reach out to earlier...

name's Picard,
Atlanta field office.

I'll call you when it's set up.

- I don't have a phone.
- Get one.

Can we trust Picard?

Known him for years.

Gave me the best advice
I ever got.

Don't take the Margrave job.

Mr. Reacher?

I'd like to offer my apologies
for your arrest.

My condolences for your brother.

Tragedy when a person is struck
down in his prime like that.

But my hand to God,
we'll find the k*ller.

We'd be happy to keep you
updated on the investigation.

Just leave
your contact information

with the department
before you head out.

- I'm not leaving.
- Oh.

It was my understanding
you were just passing through.

You understood wrong.

I figured
I'd stick around a while.

Margrave's such a nice town.

Used to be.

Not so much lately.

Heard about
your brother.

May the Lord bless him

and keep him
in a plastic container.

You looking for payback?

Payback, justice, vengeance.

Looking for the whole g*ng.

You might not be the only one.

- Meaning?
- Meaning...

you wouldn't happen to have

a couple of Spanish-speaking
amigos in town, would you?

- No.
- Makes sense.

'Cause the two fellas
come by my shop asking about you

didn't seem all that friendly.

Watch your back, Mr. Reacher.

Are you worried about me,
Mr. Mosley?

Worried about my bottom line.

Uh, you might need another shave
'fore you leave town.

Very true.

My husband
trusted Reacher.

Is he a good person?

I think so.

We don't really have the luxury
of certainty right now, but...

bad things are happening
and Reacher can help us.

I'm back.

We're in here.

Get some food together,
pack your bags for the kids.

- Where we going?
- Got a call from Finlay.

FBI agent named Picard is
on his way.

He's taking you
into protective custody.

I bought a burner.

Here's the number.

I'd feel safer if we stayed
with the two of you.

We've got to work the case.

Picard'll keep you safe.

It's what your husband
would have wanted.

Why are you talking about him
in the past tense?

We have to assume Paul's dead.

They tried to k*ll him
in prison.

They k*lled
Morrison and his wife.

Your husband's gone missing,

so they most likely
k*lled him, too.

There'll be time
to grieve later.

You have to think
about your kids.

You need to pack.

Okay?

- Okay?
- Okay, okay.

I'll go wait for Picard.

Dance!
Dance! Dance! Dance!

Dance! Dance! Dance! Dance!

Let's go, Billy! Dance!

Dance! Dance!

Okay, Mr. Predicto,

should Billy keep dancing?

"All signs indicate yes."

Come on, man!

Hey!

You boys looking
for a dance partner?

You think you can take
all of us?

Let's find out.

It's
Billy's dad! Go, go, go, go, go!

We're on the move.

It's not safe anymore. Let's go.

- I'm not ready.
- Let's go. Now.

Girls!

Lucy, come get your backpack.

Okay, you got
everything you need, right?

Hey, hey, hey. Easy.

I'm Picard.

Mind putting the cannon down?

Told you I need my own g*n.

I'll get the bags.

All right.
Come on, girls, come on.

Hop in.

Here, help your sister
with her seat belt.

- Got it?
- Okay, this is off the books.

To get a family into
an actual protection program

would take time and red tape.

Finlay said he can't get the FBI
officially involved yet,

so I'm gonna take
a few personal days,

watch the family myself.

Bottom line, do not let this
bite me in the ass.

We are talking
about my career here.

Finlay and I are tight;
we ain't that tight.

We won't let you get b*rned.

Better not.

I told him not to take this job.

- Now we get to work.
- I'm gonna make some calls,

find out what Joe was doing
with Homeland.

You're gonna have to do it
on the side.

Teale's got everyone
on a snipe hunt.

- Finlay'll fill you in.
- Okay.

- What about you?
- I'm gonna go see that guard Spivey at Warburton.

Whoever paid him
to set up Hubble to be k*lled

is who's running this thing.
Spivey's the key.

He won't tell you anything.

Depends on how I ask.

Taylor Spivey.

Chief Detective Finlay,
Margrave PD.

Calling on account
of Jack Reacher.

Yeah, well, he's pissed.

Says he got tuned up pretty good
while under your roof,

and now he's suing.

Well, he was your prisoner,

and I'm not losing my job
over this.

Is there somewhere
we can meet up,

get our stories straight before
lawyers start sniffing around?

Okay.

See you there, jackass.

Hey, Spivey.

Eh, look who it is.

You know,
I never met Detective Finlay,

but I heard all about him.

And you sure as hell don't sound
like a Black man from Boston

on the phone.

Figured you were setting me up,

so I thought
I'd return the favor.

You should've let those boys
k*ll you in the prison.

It would've been
a lot less painful.

Adios.

Let's go.

No.

It's too small.

It'll be uncomfortable.

Not as uncomfortable as a b*llet
to the stomach, pendejo.

Well, the smart move would be
to sh**t me right here,

but you haven't done that yet.

Maybe you don't want
to draw attention

f*ring outside a crowded bar.

Or maybe you have orders
to take me to your boss

so he can find out
how much I know.

Whatever it is, it means
that when I make my move,

you're gonna hesitate.

And you guys know what Cato said
about hesitation, right?

"He who hesitates..."

Puta, I'm gonna cut you.

Stop where you are!

This is Mike-7. I need backup
at the Blue Cat.

Foot pursuit of one suspect.
Second at large.

All right, yep. Th-Thank you.

Bye, now.

Both Avis and Hertz confirmed,
no unaccounted-for

rental cars in the entire state.

How many more are we waiting
on answers from, six?

In the Atlanta
airport alone.

It didn't go as planned.

Well...

this one's special.

You need stitches.

No, I don't.

Fine. Superglue it is.

Just got off the phone
with the Georgia State Police.

No suspects from the Blue Cat
brawl were apprehended.

Would've been nice
to question them.

Maybe next time don't pull
something like this by yourself.

I said you could work with us.

It's not my fault
Spivey didn't buy it.

I shoved a pole
as far up my ass as I could;

I still couldn't sound like you.

You've been here a couple
of days and you've already

thrown down in Warburton,
beaten up some locals

and fought a couple of g*ons
in a parking lot.

They weren't g*ons.

Probably m*llitary
or ex-m*llitary.

- South American.
- How could you know that?

'Cause if they weren't
I would've k*lled them

within ten seconds.

How'd you know they were

South American m*llitary?

Spoke Spanish, had Glock-17s

and the technique one guy used
to head-butt me

was from a martial art
called Reisy.

Hardly anyone uses
except branches of

South American special forces.

Plus, if they weren't,

I would've k*lled them
within ten seconds.

Why would South American
m*llitary be involved in this?

Don't know.

You ever see anyone
like that around Margrave?

Not till you showed up.

Then they're hired muscle.
Not running the show.

- You're all set.
- I have no idea what the hell's going on around here.

Well, I might,
if you're done talking

about Spivey
and South American m*llitary.

Turns out Joe was working for
the Secret Service's division

- of Homeland.
- Doing what?

- No one could or would give me any answers, but...
- Secret Service covers

everything from mail fraud
to protecting the president

to child exploitation.

Your brother could've been
involved in almost anything.

Counterfeiting?
Hubble specialized

- in currency management.
- Yeah, maybe.

But money's at the root
of every crime there is.

dr*gs, g*ns,
human trafficking...

- all rotates around cash.
- Well...

I left a voice mail with
the Office of Investigations.

Figure people usually get hurt
when they're looking

into something others don't
want 'em to, assumed maybe

Joe was an investigator
like you.

Good logic.

Thanks, Doc.

Where do you think you're going?

Homeland Security won't
call back till tomorrow

and by now Spivey's heard things
have gone sideways at the bar.

Since his bosses feed screwups
their own testicles,

my guess is he's gotten
out of Dodge for a while.

I'm gonna find his house
and search it.

Prison guard's
home address won't be public.

And county offices won't be open
till morning.

I'll chase it down then
and handle it myself.

You?

Go get some rest.

I'm getting a beer.

Absolutely not.

You saw those people
at town hall.

They were ready to grab torches

and come after you
like Frankenstein.

Frankenstein was
the doctor.

They went after
Frankenstein's monster.

Details matter.

You're going back to your motel.

I'm just gonna sit in a bar,

have a beer
and think all this through.

And then someone will say
something you don't like

and you'll break
their head open... again.

Not gonna happen.

Now you can go to your motel
right now and sleep

in a comfortable bed
or I can arrest you for vagrancy

and you can sleep
in my holding cell.

He's not a vagrant. He's a hobo.

What?

Just tail him.

Make sure he goes
straight back to the motel.

Hey, I get it.

In the past few days,
you've lost

one brother and had four fights.

If anybody needs a drink,
it's you.

There's a roadhouse.

Just across the border
in Alabama.

Nobody knows you there.

Cold beer, hot music.

But you got to behave.

Maybe they'll even play
that blues stuff you like.

Okay.

Follow me to my place.

I got to change into something
less "law enforcement."

And we got to stop
by a gas station,

and get you a T-shirt
with a little less blood on it.

You're
listening to WGUT,

blues that hit you
right in the gut.

Here's "Police Dog Blues"
by Cephas & Wiggins,

originally recorded
by the late, great Blind Blake.

Hey, isn't that your guy, Blake?

Yep.

Thanks.

It's not a twist-off.

Show off.

Feeling any better?

Not feeling worse.

Well, that's a start, ain't it?

Uh-oh.

They're playin' Patsy.

You know what that means.

Means we got to dance.
Practically the law.

I don't dance.

You're telling me that your mama

never taught her sons
how to dance?

She did, but when I ask
people to dance,

it usually precedes
a lot of punching.

Good thing I'm doing the asking.

Come on...

Frankenstein's monster.

Oh!

I-I don't need your jacket.

Move your ass, big guy.

You should've taken my jacket.

I'm a big girl.

Whoa, look at this.

Hey, take a b*at, champ.

We're far from Margrave.

Not far enough.

I say go, you duck.

What's goin' on?

Road east to the highway's
flooded.

No one's
getting through tonight.

Is there a motel near here?

Sorry I didn't have anything
in my truck your size.

Could've sworn I had
a paint tarp

or a circus tent.

Funny.

I got a sampling
from the vending machine.

Wow.

- You always eat this well?
- I was hungry.

Didn't think room service
would deliver this late.

Hmm.

Oh, yeah.

Going straight
for the Clark Bar.

Clark Bars are the best.

Had these at every PX
on every base

I ever lived at
when I was a kid.

No matter where we were at
the time, Joe and I could always

find a Clark Bar.

- You want half?
- No.

Prefer Zagnut.

No one prefers Zagnut.

- Excuse me?
- What are you eating right now?

Read me the flavor.

Spi...

Read it out loud.

"Spicy Cajun Crawtators."

There you go.

I'll take a Clark Bar.

You okay down there?

I've slept in worse places.

Been all over, huh?

Barely left Margrave.

Never really wanted to.

My family's been here
since the town was founded.

Like the Teales.

f*ck the Teales.

Conklins built this town,
Teales stole it.

Old Casper Teale got in bed
with the railroads.

Swindled farmers
out of their land

and laid tracks
right through their crops.

You still have family
in Margrave?

My parents d*ed
when I was a kid.

But I had Gray.

Gray?

Had Finlay's job before Finlay.

He was my parents' best friend.

Always... looked out for me.

Kind of like a second dad.

Taught everything I know
about being a cop.

How to work a case, keep
your notes and files organized.

He was the most

fastidious person
I have ever met.

I mean, the man only had
a horseshoe of hair,

and he still had Mosley trim it
for him once a week.

But he had a dark side, too.

He... was depressed a lot.

Never married.

No kids. Drank.

Hung himself from the rafters
in his garage about a year ago.

I'm sorry.

Always gave me daisies
on my birthday.

Daisies are my favorite.

What about you?

Snapdragons.

Cool name, hard to k*ll.

Yeah, yeah.

That sounds
like somebody I know.

No, that wasn't
what I was asking you.

I was...

I was wondering if you had
any family I didn't know about?

No. Was basically down to Joe.

Hmm.

If I hadn't have walked
in that bar a few days ago,

heard that Blind Blake song,

probably would've been years
before I found out he was dead.

Well... in spite
of the circumstances...

...it's been nice
getting to know you.

Nice getting to know you, too.

Night, Reacher.

Good night, Roscoe.

You know, before we get into it,
I could use a real breakfast.

That Zagnut ain't cuttin' it.

Should've had the Clark Bar.

Yeah?

All clear.

Clear.

When they came in, they tracked
through the flower bed.

Rubber overshoes.

They were gonna k*ll me?

Could've been here for me.
My car was parked out front.

Looks like they plan
on coming back.

I'm really gonna need a g*n.