"Everything squared away?" he asked her.
"For us," she said. "Cops have got a lot of paperwork ahead. All in all they're looking at more than fifty homicides in seven separate states. Including what happened here twelve years ago and Eugene and Sloop and Walker himself. They're going to arrest Rusty for shooting Walker. But she'll get off easy, I should think, in the circumstances."
"Anything about me?"
"They were asking about last night. Lots of questions. I said I did it all."
"Why?"
She smiled. "Because I'm a lawyer. I called it self-defense and they bought it without hesitating. It was my car out there, and my gun. No-brainer. They'd have given you a much harder time."
"So we're all home free?"
"Especially Carmen."
He looked up. Carmen had Ellie on her hip, with her face buried in her neck like the sweet fragrance of her was necessary to sustain life itself. She was walking aimless random circles with her. Then she raised her head and squinted against the sun and smiled with such abandoned joy that Reacher found himself smiling along with her.
"She got plans?" he asked.
"Moving up to Pecos," Alice said. "We'll sort through Sloop's affairs. There's probably some cash somewhere. She's talking about moving into a place like mine. Maybe working part-time. Maybe even looking at law school."
"You tell her about the Red House?"
"She laughed with happiness. I told her it was probably burned down to a cinder, and she just laughed and laughed. I felt good for her."
Now Ellie was leading her by the hand around the parking lot, checking out the trees she had inspected previously, talking a mile a minute. They looked perfect together. Ellie was hopping with energy and Carmen looked serene and radiant and very beautiful. Reacher stood up and leaned against the car.
"You want lunch?"
"Here?"
"I've got a thing going with a diner. They've probably got vegetables."
"Tuna salad will do it for me."
He went inside and used the phone. Ordered three sandwiches and promised yet another twenty bucks for the tip. Came out and found Ellie and Carmen looking for him.
"I'm going to a new school soon," Ellie said. "Just like you did."
"You'll do great," he said. "You're smart as a whip."
Then Carmen let go of her daughter's hand and stepped near him, a little shy and silent and awkward for a second. Then she smiled wide and put her arms around his chest and hugged him hard.
"Thanks," was all she said.
He hugged her back. "I'm sorry it took so long."
"Did my clue help?"
"Clue?" he said.
"I left a clue for you."
"Where?"
"In the confession."
He said nothing. She unwound herself from his embrace and took his arm and led him to where Ellie wouldn't hear her.
"He made me say I was a whore."
He nodded.
"But I pretended to be nervous and I got the words wrong. I said 'street stroller.' "
He nodded again. "I remember."
"But it's really streetwalker, isn't it? To be correct? That was the clue. You were supposed to think to yourself, it's not stroller, it's walker. Get it? It's Walker. Meaning it's Hack Walker doing all of this."
He went very quiet.
"I missed that," he said.
"So how did you know?"
"I guess I took the long way around."
She just smiled again. Laced her arm into his and walked him back to the car, where Ellie was laughing with Alice.
"You going to be O.K.?" he asked her.
She nodded. "But I feel very guilty. People died."
He shrugged. "Like Clay Allison said."
"Thanks," she said again.
"No hay de que, senora."
"Senorita, "she said.
Carmen and Ellie and Alice drifted inside to get washed up for lunch. He watched the door close behind them and just walked away. It seemed like the natural thing to do. He didn't want anybody to try to keep him there. He jogged to the road and turned south. Walked a whole hot mile before he got a ride from a farm truck driven by a toothless old man who didn't talk much. He got out at the I-10 interchange and waited on the west ramp for ninety minutes in the sun until an eighteen-wheeler slowed and stopped next to him. He walked around the massive hood and looked up at the window. The window came down. He could hear music over the loud shudder of the diesel. It sounded like Buddy Holly. The driver leaned out. He was a guy of about fifty, fleshy, wearing a Dodgers T-shirt and about four days' growth of beard.
"Los Angeles?" he called.
"Anywhere," Reacher called back.