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and horrified.
    A full second passed. Maybe two. Roscoe continued to stare at the altered photo of Jack Reacher. Her pulse was erratic, racing.
    And then she started to cry.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Tears flooded Roscoe’s eyes. One rolled down her cheek before she grabbed a tissue. The tears kept on coming. Her chin quivered. She took a deep ragged breath, and another. Still the tears fell. She swiveled her chair around, turning her back on Kim and Gaspar, hiding her face. They could hear her rhythmic breathing, struggling to regain control.
    She was like the hundreds of crime victims Kim had interviewed after unimaginable, tragic, deeply personal disasters. What the hell had Reacher done to her? Nothing in Reacher’s file reflected violence against women, although he was certainly capable of it. The bastard. Why hadn’t she considered that Reacher might have hurt this woman?
    Kim glanced toward Gaspar. Blatant emotion had not been on his list of expected reactions, either. What should they do now? Gaspar didn’t seem to have a clue.
    Roscoe’s deep breaths continued a minute or two until she finally composed herself and turned around to face them once again. Her eyes were clear and her chin was strong. She smiled weakly and took a sip of coffee, stalling, maybe steadying her voice.
    “I’m sorry,” Roscoe said, a little catch in her tone. She sipped and swallowed again, and regained her self-control.
    “No, Chief Roscoe, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Kim said. “I didn’t know. Truly. I had no idea Reacher’s photograph would upset you so much. I sincerely apologize.”
    Roscoe’s brows arched and she tilted her head and jutted her chin, like a dog identifying the source of a distant sound. Her lips lifted slightly at one corner, amused.
    She’s laughing at me now? Kim felt played. But she didn’t understand the game. Heat rose in her chest.
    Roscoe said, “Reacher’s not here. You’ve wasted your time, I’m afraid.”
    Gaspar said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a cop cry when shown a missing persons photo, Chief Roscoe. In fact, I think this is a first for me. How about you, Agent Otto?”
    “A first for me, too,” Kim snapped.
    Roscoe replied with a little sarcasm of her own. “Sorry. Really shocking, my behavior. Seeing as how you’ve been so upfront with me. So I should definitely have been more helpful.”
    Gaspar didn’t let up. “So you’re refusing to cooperate with an FBI investigation?”
    Roscoe’s back was up now, too. “Look, you barge into my town, into my office. Unannounced. Unexpected. Lie to me. You knew Reacher wasn’t here when you asked me, didn’t you? I don’t owe you anything.”
    Quietly, Kim asked, “What caused you to cry? What did Reacher do to you?”
    Roscoe took a breath, and another, and said, “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got emotional because, well, I was … relieved.”
    “I’m lost,” Gaspar said. “Some guy assaults you, or worse, and you’re relieved that we think he might be back in your jurisdiction?”
    Roscoe said, “He didn’t assault me. And I’m relieved because the FBI thinks he’s still alive. I haven’t heard from him since he left Margrave.”
    “You expected to hear from him?” Kim asked.
    Gaspar seemed to get it, too. “You knew him well, then?”
    Roscoe hesitated too long.
    Kim could almost see her rejecting one reply after another. Why so much concern over what to say about a drifter who passed through her jurisdiction briefly more than a decade ago?
    Finally, Roscoe offered a weak, “I knew him well enough.”
    Which made perfect sense and no sense at all. So that’s the way it was. Followed swiftly by, But how could that be true?
    “Where did you meet him?” Gaspar asked.
    Roscoe’s pleasant expression returned. She’d collected her poise once again. Kim felt the momentum shift to Roscoe. She would cooperate, but only on her terms. Whatever those terms might be.
    “In the interview room