Part 10 (1/2)
”Maybe later,” Vaughan said. ”We need to get going.”
Reacher pointed to four sharp impressions in the sand. Each one was a rectangle about two inches by three, at the corners of a larger rectangle about two feet by five.
”Gurney feet,” he said. ”Folks came by and collected him. Maybe four or five of them, judging by all the footprints. Official folks, because who else carries gurneys?” He stood up and checked and pointed north and west, along a broad ragged line of footprints and crushed vegetation. ”They came in that way, and carried him back out in the same direction, back to the road. Maybe to a coroner's wagon, parked a little ways west of my cairn.”
”So we're OK,” Vaughan said. ”The proper authorities have got him. Problem solved. We should get going.”
Reacher nodded vaguely and gazed due west. ”What should we see over there?”
”Two sets of incoming footprints,” Vaughan said. ”The boy's and yours, both heading east out of town. Separated by time, but not much separated by direction.”
”But it looks like there's more than that.”
They skirted the clearing and formed up again west of it. They saw four separate lines of footprints, fairly close together.
”Two incoming, two outgoing,” Reacher said.
”How do you know?” Vaughan asked.
”The angles. Most people walk with their toes out.”
The newer of the incoming tracks showed big dents in the sand a yard or more apart, and deep. The older showed smaller dents, closer together, less regular, and shallower.
”The kid and me,” Reacher said. ”Heading east. Separated in time. I was walking, he was stumbling and staggering.”
The two outgoing tracks were both brand new. The sand was less crumbled and therefore the indentations were more distinct, and fairly deep, fairly well s.p.a.ced, and similar.
”Reasonably big guys,” Reacher said. ”Heading back west. Recently. Not separated in time.”
”What does it mean?”
”It means they're tracking the kid. Or me. Or both of us. Finding out where we'd been, where we'd come from.”
”Why?”
”They found the body, they were curious.”
”How did they find the body in the first place?”
”Buzzards,” Reacher said. ”It's the obvious way, on open ground.”
Vaughan stood still for a moment. Then she said, ”Back to the truck, right now.”
Reacher didn't argue. She had beaten him to the obvious conclusion, but only by a heartbeat.
18
The old Chevy was still idling patiently. The road was still empty. But they ran. They ran and they flung the truck's doors open and dumped themselves inside. Vaughan slammed the transmission into gear and hit the gas. They didn't say a word until they thumped back over the Hope town line, eight long minutes later.
”Now you're really a citizen with a problem,” Vaughan said. ”Aren't you? The Despair cops might be dumb, but they're still cops. Buzzards show them a dead guy, they find the dead guy's tracks, they find a second set of tracks that show some other guy caught up with the dead guy along the way, they find signs of a whole lot of falling down and rolling around, they're going to want a serious talk with the other guy. You can bet on that.”
Reacher said, ”So why didn't they follow my tracks forward?”
”Because they know where you were going. There's only Hope, or Kansas. They want to know where you started. And what are they going to find?”
”A ma.s.sive loop. Buried PowerBar wrappers and empty water bottles, if they look hard enough.”
Vaughan nodded at the wheel. ”Clear physical evidence of a big guy with big feet and long legs who paid a planned clandestine visit the night after they threw a big guy with big feet and long legs out of town.”
”Plus one of the deputies saw me.”
”You sure?”
”We talked.”
”Terrific.”
”The dead guy died of natural causes.”
”You sure? You felt around in the dark. They're going to put that boy on a slab.”
”I'm not in Despair anymore. You can't go there, they can't come here.”
”Small departments don't work homicides, you idiot. We call in the State Police. And the State Police can go anywhere in Colorado. And the State Police get cooperation anywhere in Colorado. And you're in my logbook from yesterday. I couldn't deny it even if I wanted to.”
”You wouldn't want to?”
”I don't know anything about you. Except that I'm pretty sure you beat on a deputy in Despair. You practically admitted that to me. Who knows what else you did?”
”I didn't do anything else.”
Vaughan said nothing.
Reacher asked, ”What happens next?”
”Always better to get out in front of a thing like this. You should call in and volunteer information.”
”No.”
”Why not?”
”I was a soldier. I never volunteer for anything.”