Echo Burning

willing to help me. I tried to choose pretty carefully. I only stopped for rough-looking men.”
    “Thanks, Carmen,” Reacher said.
    “I don’t mean it badly,” she said. “It’s not uncomplimentary.”
    “But it could have been dangerous.”
    She nodded. “It nearly was, a couple of times. But I had to take the risk. I had to find somebody . I figured I might get rodeo guys, or men from the oil fields. You know, tough guys, roughnecks, maybe out of work, with a little time on their hands. Maybe a little anxious to earn some money, but I can’t pay much. Is that going to be a problem?”
    “So far, Carmen, everything is going to be a problem.”
    She went quiet again.
    “I talked to them all,” she said. “You know, chatted with them a little, discussed things, like we did. I was trying to make some kind of judgment about what they were like, inside, in terms of their characters. I was trying to assess their qualities. Maybe twelve of them. And none of them were really any good. But I think you are.”
    “You think I’m what?”
    “I think you’re my best chance so far,” she said. “Really, I do. A former cop, been in the army, no ties anywhere, you couldn’t be better.”
    “I’m not looking for a job, Carmen.”
    She nodded happily. “I know. I figured that out already. But that’s better still, I think. It keeps it pure, don’t you see that? Help for help’s sake. No mercenary aspect to it. And your background is perfect. It obligates you.”
    He stared at her. “No, it doesn’t.”
    “You were a soldier,” she said. “And a policeman . It’s perfect. You’re supposed to help people. That’s what cops do .”
    “We spent most of our time busting heads. Not a whole lot of helping went on.”
    “But it must have. That’s what cops are for . It’s like their fundamental duty. And an army cop is even better. You said it yourself, you do what’s necessary.”
    “If you need a cop, go to the county sheriff. Pecos, or wherever it is.”
    “Echo,” she said. “I live in Echo. South of Pecos.”
    “Wherever,” he said. “Go to the sheriff.”
    She was shaking her head. “No, I can’t do that.”
    Reacher said nothing more. Just lay half on his back, pressed up against the door by the car’s steep angle. The engine was idling patiently, and the air was still roaring. The woman was still braced above him. She had gone silent. She was staring out past him and blinking, like she was about to cry. Like she was ready for a big flood of tears. Like she was tragically disappointed, maybe with him, maybe with herself.
    “You must think I’m crazy,” she said.
    He turned his head and looked hard at her, top to toe. Strong slim legs, strong slim arms, the expensive dress. It was riding up on her thighs, and he could see her bra strap at her shoulder. It was snow white against the color of her skin. She had clean combed hair and trimmed painted nails. An elegant, intelligent face, tired eyes.
    “I’m not crazy,” she said.
    Then she looked straight at him. Something in her face. Maybe an appeal. Or maybe hopelessness, or desperation.
    “It’s just that I’ve dreamed about this for a month,” she said. “My last hope. It was a ridiculous plan, I guess, but it’s all I had. And there was always the chance it would work, and with you I think maybe it could, and now I’m screwing it up by coming across like a crazy woman.”
    He paused a long time. Minutes. He thought back to a pancake house he’d seen in Lubbock, right across the strip from his motel. It had looked pretty good. He could have crossed the street, gone in there, had a big stack with bacon on the side. Lots of syrup. Maybe an egg. He would have come out a half hour after she blew town. He could be sitting next to some cheerful trucker now, listening to rock and roll on the radio. On the other hand, he could be bruised and bleeding in a police cell, with an arraignment date coming up.
    “So start over,” he said. “Just say what you’ve got to say. But first, drive us out of this damn ditch. I’m very uncomfortable. And I could use a cup of coffee. Is there anyplace up ahead where we could get coffee?”
    “I think so,” she said. “Yes, there is. About an hour, I think.”
    “So let’s go there. Let’s get a cup of coffee.”
    “You’re going to dump me and run,” she said.
    It was an attractive possibility. She stared at him, maybe five long seconds, and then she nodded, like a decision was made.