Just before we got to Casper, I used Vic's phone to reach out to the Wyoming Attorney General's office and speak with the Greatest Legal Mind of Our Time. It wasn't like I needed much arm twisting to call.

She didn't even say hello. "Hi, Vic. What has Daddy done now?"

"Hey, Punk."

"Daddy, why are you using Vic's phone?"

"We're heading down to Casper in the Bullet and she's driving while I make phone calls. I need a favor."

I explained the situation, leaving out the part about my connection to Jack Reacher. I was still coming to grips with having that season in my life resurrected; I wasn't ready to talk about it just yet. I had yet to even mention it to Vic. Turned out my Italian undersheriff was a step ahead of me. No surprise there. Cady promised to call me right back after she checked with whoever was in charge of the Wyoming portion of the investigation, leaving Vic an opening. "So how long before you tell me about Reacher?"

"What?"

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm asking. I read the report too, remember? I saw Reacher senior's stationing at your same air base in Vietnam at the same time you were there." She nailed me with those tarnished golden eyes. "Your sudden desire to jaunt down to Casper was a dead giveaway. You know something about him! Somehow this is personal now. I've been waiting for you to stop pondering the meaning of life in all this and talk like a regular person."

I decided to cut to the chase. "I'm sorry."

She snorted. "You always say that! I don't want you to be sorry, I want you to talk about things! Open up!"

Of course, my native inclination when faced with a demand to talk was to clam up even more, but I overpowered it through sheer force of will. Unfortunately, the skill set dictated by my gender didn't provide me with an extensive list of talking points. "I'm sorry."

"You know what? Screw it! Never mind!" I figured her dismissal would last about three seconds. I was wrong. It took half that. "No! Talk! Treat it like a report. Make it clinical, or technical, or whatever the hell you have to do!"

I cleared my throat. "So, it turns out I did meet Jack Reacher's dad, just once. Boy howdy, the once was enough."

Vic's phone rang. "You're not off the hook," she said.

It was Cady. "Hey, Punk."

"Hey, Daddy. Are you still on I-25? Have you gotten to the bypass yet?"

"Yes and no. We're just passing Hartrandt." The Casper Mountains, an uplift of quake-spawned mesas and ridges, loomed ahead of us, draped in snowy robes, the higher summits lost in the mists pressing down on the small range.

"The agent in the diner who was the truck driver…he's at CPR. He's getting ready to fly down to Denver for a debriefing and a strategy meeting. If you hurry you can catch him there. I guessed and told them to expect you in twenty minutes or so. They said they'd wait fifteen."

"Thanks, Punk. I owe you." She hung up without saying goodbye.

Vic had already moved the Bullet into the exit lane for the bypass highway that pointed us toward Shoshoni, a hundred miles to the west. Thankfully, we were only going eight or nine miles, heading for CPR; the Casper/Natrona County International Airport. She flicked the switch to the light bar atop the Bullet and tromped down on the pedal. "Now we're having fun!"

"You could be matching bookends."

This was the first thing Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation Special Agent Bernard Williamson blurted out when we shook hands at the airfield where he was waiting to board a shiny Piper M600 turboprop. He carried a small duffel and wore a thick leather jacket with the collar turned up against the ever-present Wyoming wind. He almost had to yell to make himself heard over the idling plane's throaty roar. "You and this Reacher guy, I mean."

"How so?"

"You're both the same size. You could almost be brothers, except, well…you're older."

"What else can you tell me about him? What was his demeanor?"

"His demeanor? He was deliberately attempting to intimidate me."

Vic got to the point. "Did it work?"

"Honestly, yeah, it did, to a degree." I figured it must've, because his face reddened as he spoke. "But more than that, it made me mad! He was an unknown entity. He definitely looked like he could be the muscle for a carjacking crew. When it came down to it, though, I pretty much pegged him for a nobody who stepped into the situation to make points with the girl who was serving him, but I couldn't find out without blowing my cover! I didn't want to throw away the months we spent getting ready for this sting." He gestured emphatically. "It was our best hope to tie all the players together—the guys calling the shots as well as the enforcers. Then we'd go up the food chain from there. All I knew was he wasn't the car owner's son. We don't know what happened to the son."

"He didn't say anything you could tie to the sting?"

"No, or we would've busted him as soon as he got in the car! All we could do was watch and hope we could follow him to the rest of the crew, or that they would somehow initiate contact. And I really need to get going. I'm tasked with driving the truck that will transport the car once it's recovered. Seems FBI pilots are a dime-a-dozen, but truck drivers are hard to come by. Go figure."

"If you happen to see him again and you have a chance, would you give him a note for me?"

He shrugged. "If I see him, which is unlikely." He sounded reluctant.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Agent Williamson?"

"Just know, I'm not going to go out of my way to talk to him again."

"And why is that?"

"The couple of minutes I talked to him, he was very civil, but I got the feeling he would just as soon snap my neck. Maybe even enjoy it. And now I really have to go."

I went back to the Bullet and grabbed an old sheriff's department envelope out of the center console. I glanced up through the windshield as Williamson shifted impatiently from one foot to another while Vic just gave him the Morretti stare. I penned a few quick words on the back of a receipt I had in a pocket of my jacket and sealed it in the envelope.

"Thanks for waiting," I told Williamson when I got back to them. We shook hands again and he hustled over to the waiting aircraft and climbed in. The cabin door closed and we watched the plane taxi away.

Vic turned to me. "So Reacher sucks at first impressions?"

"Or it may be a case of the apple falling not far from the tree."

"Ooo, is that another puzzle piece you're dangling in front of me? Father and son Reachers both suck at first impressions? Or maybe they both intervene in uncomfortable situations?"

"There's two sides to every story. Let's go see if we can talk to the server. She might have a different side."

We left the airport and headed back into Casper, this time with Vic riding shotgun. Instead of the desolate but starkly beautiful high plains scenery that favored us on the way south, now we were passing by airport service industry businesses, junk yards and tank farms. I much preferred the desolation. Within a short time, we came to the turn south toward Rawlins. Vic called the diner but got no answer. I wasn't sure how much involvement we should allow ourselves. We were in no position to invite ourselves into the investigation, nor did I want to make things difficult for Cady by calling the AG's office trying to get us invited. In reality, I didn't want to make things difficult between Cady and me. I didn't want to overstep my boundaries. Cady's job was secure. Hell, she'd be running the place in another five years.

We crossed over the North Platte and drove on past the fairgrounds until we reached the intersection with Highway 220 going south. The diner was just down Cy Avenue and it was closed.

"They probably just closed for the rest of the day, but they can't stay closed too long. What next?" Vic asked.

A few discreet phone calls rendered the phone number of the diner's owner, a woman named Mavis Shockley. Mavis was disinclined to share the server's phone number. "Who are you again?"

"Walt Longmire. I'm sheriff up in Absaroka County."

"This is Natrona County."

"Yes, ma-am, I'm aware of that."

"This isn't one of those scams I keep hearing about, is it?"

"No, ma-am." As if I would admit to being a scammer if I was a scammer. "This is in regard to the investigation being conducted due to this morning's incident in your diner. I'd really like to talk to the server involved."

"Angie? She was here for hours already talking to you folk. Where were you then?"

"We got down here as soon as we were apprised of the incident."

Vic snickered. I glanced over at her and she arched her finely shaped eyebrows and made a face like she was impressed. Apprised, she mouthed. I'm a little slow sometimes, but I know mockery when I see it.

"Well, the diner is closed now and everybody has been sent home for the day."

"Yes, ma'am, we're sitting in your parking lot and we can see that. That's why I was hoping to get Angie's number from you."

"What did you say your name was?"

"Longmire, ma'am. Walt Longmire."

"You're sheriff in Absaroka County." She said it like she was reminding me.

"Yes, ma'am."

"This is Natrona County."

I sighed. Vic snickered some more. Dog whined from the back. The dark windows of the diner stared out over the empty except for us parking lot. "Yes, ma'am."

There was a long pause, like she was trying to understand how two sheriffs could be in one county at the same time. "Well, you'll have to come back on Monday if you want to talk to her. I'm not just giving out her number to a voice on the phone. You could be one of those scammers."

"She doesn't work on Sundays?"

"I don't know how it is up there in Absaroka County, but we aren't open on Sundays. Folks go to church."

The truck was rocking with Vic's suppressed laughter as she writhed in her seat, slapping her thigh in silent spasms of mirth. Dog whined again. "Of course, ma'am. Ma'am, thank you for your time. We'll be back on Monday morning and talk to Angie then. Thank you again." I disconnected before she could take another shot at calling me a godless scammer.

Most days I can tell what kind of day it's going to be when I get to the office simply by the tone of Ruby's fingers on her computer keyboard. If she pauses, it means she has things to say, and just about anything Ruby has to say is important in one way or another. When she doesn't pause, it either means she wants to finish her thought, or she's perturbed with me over something. If she's not perturbed, she'll usually shoot a quick glance at me over her glasses with a smile. If she doesn't pause and doesn't look at me, the portent is not good.

Vic had Sunday off, so we didn't see each other until Dog and I walked into the jail on Monday. She was waiting for me in the outer office, a sheaf of paper in her hand. Ruby was at her desk tapping away on her computer keyboard, and I could tell by the way she kept tapping that she was on Vic's side, whichever side that was. It seems I'd gotten myself in trouble before I even stepped through the door. That wasn't anything new. Vic shook the pages in front of my face. "Did you see yesterday's Reacher report?"

"Maybe. Is it the one that says he killed three hijackers, shot up a tow truck, held Agent Williamson at gunpoint, assaulted a citizen, and stole a dog before vanishing with the Riviera? Allegedly?"

"Yes! Why didn't you call me?"

"It was your day off. I've made that mistake before."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't think this is different?"

"Different how? How will you knowing this news yesterday instead of today make any difference beyond interrupting your day off? The AG and the Feds can deal with whatever happens next. We don't even know where Reacher is, unless it's somewhere between Colorado and California. Agent Williamson said Reacher implied he still meant to deliver the car to the daughter in Fresno."

"Walt, it makes me feel like an outsider, which is another mistake you've made before. If you want me to be around to take over when you 'retire', you've got a hell of a way of showing it! And just because it's my day off doesn't mean I wouldn't mind at least hearing from you! And don't say you're sorry!"

Ruby's fingers paused. This was the part where I had a chance to redeem myself if I was smart enough. More often than not I wasn't. "I spent a sizeable chunk of time yesterday reaching out to some folks I know to get a better feel for why so much of Jack Reacher's information is redacted. Would you like it if I'd called you in on your day off to help me make phone calls, or to take notes while I talked to somebody on speaker phone?" Ruby started typing again. I had made a good point and she knew it.

"No, I wouldn't have liked it! I would've given you holy hell, but at least I would feel important enough to be asked!"

"Well, I can tell you now, or I can tell you on the way back down to Casper to talk to Angie."

"Do we have to take Dog this time?"

"What kind of question is that to ask right in front of him?"

"I bet you talked about all of this with him yesterday."

"He's a good listener, and he doesn't swear at me."

She didn't swear at me, but she used both middle fingers to give me a double Philly salute.