One Shot by Lee Child Page A

proprieties observed, their relationship preserved. The next call came ten minutes later. It was from her father, who sounded full of concern. 'You shouldn't have taken this case, you know,' he said.
    'It wasn't like I was spoiled for choice,' Helen said.
    'Losing might be winning, if you know what I mean.'
    Winning might be winning, too.'
    'No, winning will be losing. You need to understand that.'
    'Did you ever set out to lose a case?' she asked.
    Her father said nothing. Then he went fishing.
    'Did Jack Reacher find you?' he asked, meaning: Should I be worried? 'He found me,' she said, keeping her voice light.
    Was he interesting?' Meaning: Should I be very worried? 'He's certainly given me something to think about.'
    'Well, should we discuss it?' Meaning: Please, tell me.
    'I'm sure we will soon. When the time is right.'
    They small-talked for a minute more and arranged to meet for dinner. He tried again: Please, tell me. She didn't. Then they hung up. Helen smiled. She hadn't lied.
    Hadn't even really bluffed. But she felt she had participated.
    The law was a game, and like any game it had a psychological component. The third call was from Rosemary Barr at the hospital.
    'James is waking up,' she said. 'He coughed up his breathing tube. He's coming out of the coma.' 'Is he talking?'
    'The doctors say he might be tomorrow.'
    Will he remember anything?'
    'The doctors say it's possible.'
    An hour later Reacher left the Metropole. He stayed east of First Street and headed north towards the off-brand stores he had seen near the courthouse. He wanted clothes. Something local. Maybe not a set of bib overalls, but certainly something more generic than his Miami gear. Because he figured he might head to Seattle next. For the coffee. And he couldn't walk around Seattle in a bright yellow shirt.
    He found a store and bought a pair of pants that the label called taupe and he called olive drab. He found a flannel shirt almost the same colour. Plus underwear.
    And he invested in a pair of socks. He changed in the cubicle and threw his old stuff away in the store's own trash bin. Forty bucks, for what he hoped would be four days' wear. Extravagant, but it was worth ten bucks a day to him not to carry a bag.
    He came out and walked west towards the afternoon sun. The shirt was too thick for the weather, but he could regulate it by rolling up the sleeves and opening a second button. It was OK. It would be fine for Seattle.
    He came out into the plaza and saw that the fountain had been restarted. It was refilling the pool, very slowly.
    The mud on the bottom was an inch deep and moving in slow swirls. Some people were standing and watching it. Others were walking. But nobody was using the short route past the memorial tributes, where Barr's victims had died. Maybe nobody would ever again. Instead everyone was looping the long way round, past the NBC sign. Instinctively, respectfully, fearfully, Reacher wasn't sure.
    He picked his way among the flowers and sat on the low wall, with the sound of the fountain behind him, and the parking garage in front of him. One shoulder was warmed by the sun and the other was cool in the shade.
    He could feel the leftover sand under his feet. He looked to his left and watched the DMV building's door. Looked to his right and watched the cars on the raised highway.
    They tracked through the curve, high up in the air, one after the other, single file, in a single lane. There weren't many of them. Traffic up there was light, even though First Street itself was already building up to the afternoon rush hour. Then he looked to his left again and saw Helen Rodin sitting down beside him. She was out of breath.
    'I was wrong,' she said. 'You are a hard man to find.'
    'But you triumphed none the less,' he said.
    'Only because I saw you from my window. I ran all the way down, hoping you wouldn't wander off. That was a half-hour after calling all the hotels in town and being told you aren't registered anywhere.' 'What