Nothing to Lose

station.”
    “What happened to them?”
    “I did.”
    The judge said nothing.
    Reacher said, “And Mr. Thurman is up in his little airplane right now. Out of touch for another five and a half hours. So you’re on your own. It’s initiative time for Judge Gardner.”
    “What do you want?”
    “I want you to invite me into your living room. I want you to ask me to sit down and whether I take cream and sugar in my coffee, which I don’t, by the way. Because so far I’m here with your implied permission, and therefore I’m not trespassing. I’d like to keep it that way.”
    “You’re not only trespassing, you’re in violation of a town ordinance.”
    “That’s what I’d like to talk about. I’d like you to reconsider. Consider it an appeals process.”
    “Are you nuts?”
    “A little unconventional, maybe. But I’m not armed and I’m not making threats. I just want to talk.”
    “Get lost.”
    “On the other hand I am a large stranger with nothing to lose. In a town where there is no functioning law enforcement.”
    “I have a gun.”
    “I’m sure you do. In fact I’m sure you have several. But you won’t use any of them.”
    “You think not?”
    “You’re a man of the law. You know what kind of hassle comes afterward. I don’t think you want to face that kind of thing.”
    “You’re taking a risk.”
    “Getting out of bed in the morning is a risk.”
    The judge said nothing to that. Didn’t yield, didn’t accede. Impasse. Reacher turned to the wife and took all the amiability out of his face and replaced it with the kind of thousand-yard stare he had used years ago on recalcitrant witnesses.
    He asked, “What do you think, Mrs. Gardner?”
    She started to speak a couple of times but couldn’t get any words past a dry throat. Finally she said, “I think we should all sit down and talk.” But the way she said it showed she wasn’t all the way scared. She was a tough old bird. Probably had to be, to have survived sixty-some years in Despair, and marriage to the boss man’s flunky.
    Her husband huffed once and turned around and led the way into the living room. A sofa, an armchair, another armchair, with a lever on the side that meant it was a recliner. There was a coffee table and a large television set wired to a satellite box. The furniture was covered in a floral pattern that was duplicated in the drapes. The drapes were closed and had a ruffled pelmet made from the same fabric. Reacher suspected that Mrs. Gardner had sewed them herself.
    The judge said, “Take a seat, I guess.”
    Mrs. Gardner said, “I’m not going to make coffee. I think under the circumstances that would be a step too far.”
    “Your choice,” Reacher said. “But I have to tell you I’d truly appreciate some.” He paused a moment and then sat down in the armchair. Gardner sat in the recliner. His wife stood for a moment longer and then sighed once and headed out of the room. A minute later Reacher heard water running and the quiet metallic sound of an aluminum percolator basket being rinsed.
    Gardner said, “There is no appeal.”
    “There has to be,” Reacher said. “It’s a constitutional issue. The Fifth and the Fourteenth Amendments guarantee due process. At the very least there must be the possibility of judicial review.”
    “Are you serious?”
    “Completely.”
    “You want to go to federal court over a local vagrancy ordinance?”
    “I’d prefer you to concede that a mistake has been made, and then go ahead and tear up whatever paperwork was generated.”
    “There was no mistake. You are a vagrant, as defined by law.”
    “I’d like you to reconsider that.”
    “Why?”
    “Why not?”
    “I’d like to understand why it’s so important to you to have free rein in our town.”
    “And I’d like to understand why it’s so important to you to keep me out.”
    “Where’s your loss? It’s not much of a place.”
    “It’s a matter of principle.”
    Gardner said nothing. A moment later his wife came in, with a single mug of coffee in her hand. She placed it carefully on the table in front of Reacher’s chair and then backed away and sat down on the sofa. Reacher picked up the mug and took a sip. The coffee was hot, strong, and smooth. The mug was cylindrical, narrow in relation to its height, made of delicate bone china, and it had a thin lip.
    “Excellent,” Reacher said. “Thank you very much. I’m really very grateful.”
    Mrs. Gardner paused a beat and said,