Without Fail

shouldn’t have done it,” Reacher said. “Like a doctor shouldn’t write a will. Like a lawyer shouldn’t do surgery.”
    “But you made him.”
    He shook his head.
    “No, I didn’t make him,” he said.
    She was silent.
    “Two points, Froelich,” he said. “First, people shouldn’t have to choose their careers with one eye on what their brother might think. And second, the last time Joe and I had any significant contact I was sixteen years old. He was eighteen. He was leaving for West Point. I was a kid. The last thing on his mind was copying me. Are you nuts? And I never really saw him again after that. Funerals only, basically. Because whatever you think about me as a brother, he was no better. He paid no attention to me. Years would go by, I wouldn’t hear from him.”
    “He followed your career. Your mother sent him stuff. He was comparing himself.”
    “Our mother died seven years before he did. I barely had a career back then.”
    “You won the Silver Star in Beirut right at the beginning.”
    “I was in an explosion,” he said. “They gave me a medal because they couldn’t think what else to do. That’s what the Army is like. Joe knew that.”
    “He was comparing himself,” she said.
    Reacher moved in his seat. Watched small swirls of condensation form on the windshield glass.
    “Maybe,” he said. “But not to me.”
    “Who then?”
    “Our dad, possibly.”
    She shrugged. “He never talked about him .”
    “Well, there you go,” Reacher said. “Avoidance. Denial.”
    “You think? What was special about your dad?”
    Reacher looked away. Closed his eyes.
    “He was a Marine,” he said. “Korea and Vietnam. Very compartmentalized guy. Gentle, shy, sweet, loving man, but a stone-cold killer, too. Harder than a nail. Next to him I look like Liberace.”
    “Do you compare yourself with him?”
    Reacher shook his head. Opened his eyes.
    “No point,” he said. “Next to him I look like Liberace. Always will, no matter what. Which isn’t necessarily such a bad thing for the world.”
    “Didn’t you like him?”
    “He was OK. But he was a freak. No room for people like him anymore.”
    “Joe shouldn’t have gone to Georgia,” she said.
    Reacher nodded.
    “No argument about that,” he said. “No argument at all. But it was nobody’s fault except his own. He should have had more sense.”
    “So should you.”
    “I’ve got plenty of sense. Like for instance I joined the Military Police, not the Marine Corps. Like for instance I don’t feel compelled to rush around trying to design a new hundred dollar bill. I stick to what I know.”
    “And you think you know how to take out these guys?”
    “Like the garbage man knows how to take out the trash. It ain’t rocket science.”
    “That sounds pretty arrogant.”
    He shook his head. “Listen, I’m sick of justifying myself. It’s ridiculous. You know your neighbors? You know the people who live around here?”
    “Not really,” she said.
    He rubbed mist off the glass and pointed out his window with his thumb. “Maybe one of them is an old lady who knits sweaters. Are you going to walk up to her and say, oh my God, what’s with you? I can’t believe you actually have the temerity to know how to knit sweaters .”
    “You’re equating armed combat with knitting sweaters?”
    “I’m saying we’re all good at something. And that’s what I’m good at. Maybe it’s the only thing I’m good at. I’m not proud of it, and I’m not ashamed of it, either. It’s just there . I can’t help it. I’m genetically programmed to win, is all. Several consecutive generations.”
    “Joe had the same genes.”
    “No, he had the same parents. There’s a difference.”
    “I hope your faith in yourself is justified.”
    “It is. Especially now, with Neagley here. She makes me look like Liberace.”
    Froelich looked away. Went quiet.
    “What?” he said.
    “She’s in love with you.”
    “Bullshit.”
    Froelich looked straight at him. “How would you know?”
    “She’s never been interested.”
    Froelich just shook her head.
    “I just talked to her about it,” he said. “The other day. She said she’s never been interested. She told me that, words of one syllable.”
    “And you believed her?”
    “Wasn’t I supposed to?”
    Froelich said nothing. Reacher smiled, slowly.
    “What, you think she is interested?” he asked.
    “You smile just like Joe,” she answered. “A little shy, a little lopsided.