One Shot

"Tell me about the ballgame."

"I already did."

"Where were you? In the car? At home?"

"Home," Barr said. "I was eating."

"You remember that?"

Barr blinked. "The shrink lady said I should try to remember the circumstances. It might bring more stuff back. I was in the kitchen, eating chicken, cold. With potato chips. I remember that. But that’s as far as I can get."

"Drink? Beer, juice, coffee?"

"I don’t remember. I just remember listening to the game. I’ve got a Bose radio. It’s in the kitchen. There’s a TV in there too, but I always listen to the game, never watch. Like when I was a kid."

"How did you feel?"

"Feel?"

"Happy? Sad? Normal?"

Barr went quiet again for a moment.

"The shrink lady asked the same question," he said. "I told her normal, but actually I think I was feeling happy. Like something good was on the horizon."

Reacher said nothing.

"I really blew that call, didn’t I?" Barr said.

"Tell me about your sister," Reacher said.

"She was just here. Before the lawyer came in."

"How do you feel about her?"

"She’s all I’ve got."

"How far would you go to protect her?"

"I would do anything," Barr said.

"What kind of anything?"

"I’ll plead guilty if they let me. She’ll still have to move, maybe change her name. But I’ll spare her what I can. She bought me the radio. For the baseball. Birthday gift."

Reacher said nothing.

"Why are you here?" Barr asked him.

"To bury you."

"I deserve it."

"You didn’t fire from the highway. You were in the new parking garage."

"On First Street?"

"North end."

"That’s nuts. Why would I fire from there?"

"You asked your first lawyer to find me. On Saturday."

"Why would I do that? You ought to be the last person I wanted to see. You know about Kuwait City. Why would I want that brought up?"

"What was the Cards’ next game?"

"I don’t know."

"Try to remember. I need to understand the circumstances here."

"I can’t remember," Barr said. "There’s nothing there. I remember that winning run, and that’s all. The announcers were going crazy. You know how they are. They were kind of incredulous. I mean, what a stupid way to lose a ballgame. But it’s the Cubs, right? They were saying they always find some way to lose."

"What about before the game? Earlier that day?"

"I don’t remember."

"What would you normally be doing?"

"Not much. I don’t do much."

"What happened in the Cardinals’ previous game?"

"I don’t recall."

"What’s the next to last thing you remember?"

"I’m not sure. The driveway?"

"That was months ago."

"I remember going out somewhere," Barr said.

"When?"

"Not sure. Recently."

"Alone?"

"Maybe with people. I’m not sure. Not sure where, either."

Reacher said nothing. Just leaned back in his chair and listened to the quiet beep from the heart machine. It was running pretty fast. Both handcuffs were rattling.

"What’s in the IVs?" Barr asked.

Reacher squinted against the daylight and read the writing on the bags.

"Antibiotics," he said.

"Not painkillers?"

"No."

"I guess they think I don’t deserve any."

Reacher said nothing.

"We go way back, right?" Barr said. "You and me?"

"Not really," Reacher said.

"Not like we were friends."

"You got that right."

"But we were connected."

Reacher said nothing.

"Weren’t we?" Barr asked.

"In a way," Reacher said.

"So would you do something for me?" Barr asked. "As a favor?"

"Like what?" Reacher said.

"Pull the IV needles out of my hand."

"Why?"

"So I can get an infection and die."

"No," Reacher said.

"Why not?"

"Not time yet," Reacher said.

He stood up and put his chair back against the wall and walked out of the room. He processed out at the security desk and passed through the airlock and rode the elevator down to the street. Helen Rodin’s car wasn’t in the lot. She was already gone. She hadn’t waited for him. So he set out walking, all the way from the edge of town.

He picked his way past ten blocks of construction and went to the library first. It was getting late in the afternoon, but the library was still open. The sad woman at the desk told him where the old newspapers were kept. He started with the previous week’s stack of the same Indianapolis paper he had read on the bus. He ignored Sunday, Saturday, and Friday. He started with Thursday, Wednesday, and Tuesday, and he got a hit with the second paper he looked at. The Chicago Cubs had played a three-game series in St. Louis starting Tuesday. It was the series opener that had ended the way Barr had described. Tie game in the bottom of the ninth, a walk, a steal, a groundout, an error. The details were right there in Wednesday morning’s paper. A walk-off winning run without a hit in the inning. About ten in the evening, Tuesday. Barr had heard the announcers’ frenzied screams just sixty-seven hours before he opened fire.

Then Reacher backtracked all the way to the police station. Four blocks west, one block south. He wasn’t worried about its opening hours. It had looked like a 24/7 kind of a place to him. He went straight to the reception desk and claimed defense counsel’s right to another look at the evidence. The desk guy made a call to Emerson and then pointed Reacher straight to Bellantonio’s garage bay.

Bellantonio met him there and unlocked the door. Not much had changed, but Reacher noticed a couple of new additions. New sheets of paper, behind plastic, pinned above and below the original pages on the cork boards, like footnotes or addenda or appendices.

"Updates?" he asked.

"Always," Bellantonio said. "We never sleep."

"So what’s new?"

"Animal DNA," Bellantonio said. "Exact match of Barr’s dog’s hair to the scene."

"Where is the dog now?"

"Put to sleep."

"That’s cold."

"That’s cold?"

"The damn dog didn’t do anything wrong."

Bellantonio said nothing.

"What else?" Reacher asked.

"More tests on the fibers, and more ballistics. We’re beyond definite on everything. The Lake City ammo is relatively rare, and we’ve confirmed a purchase by Barr less than a year ago. In Kentucky."

"He used a range down there."

Bellantonio nodded. "We found that out, too."

"Anything else?"

"The traffic cone came from the city’s construction department. We don’t know how or when."

"Anything else?"

"I think that’s about it."

"What about the negatives?"

"The negatives?"

"You’re giving me all the good news. What about the questions that didn’t get answered?"

"I don’t think there were any."

"You sure about that?"

"I’m sure."

Reacher glanced around the square of cork boards, one more time, and carefully.