All language subtitles for Reacher.S01E01.AMZN.WEB-DL-NTb.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

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I'm sorry.

- I'm not good at math.
- That was like a 40% tip!

I messed up, okay?

How am I supposed to get ahead

when you're wasting my goddamn money?

Just get your ass in the van.

The hell you want, asshole?

I'm talking to you, stupid.

Listen, man, I'm just having a bad day.

Won't happen again.

Coffee... black... and peach pie.

Best you're gonna find in Georgia.

... is canceling their enhanced
drug enforcement efforts

off the Eastern Seaboard.

Sources say the program,
which began a year ago...

Police!

Police! Don't move!

Don't move, don't move, don't move!

Now, you're gonna slide
out from behind that booth,

nice and slow.

Do it now!

Slow!

Hands.

Hands behind your head.
Hands behind your head!

Interlock your fingers!
Interlock your fingers!

Turn around.

Face the window!

Dessert's gonna have to wait.

You're under arrest for murder.

Come on.

You can move faster than that.

Sir?

If you step over here,
I can process you.

I'm not asking, sir. I'm telling.

But don't worry, I won't kick
your ass unless you make me.

Thank you.

All right, I'll be doing your intake.

So, first things first,
what is your name?

Sasquatch don't talk.

Had a passport on him, though.

Jack Reacher.

- No middle name.
- Zip ties?

Cuffs didn't fit him.

No stamps.

Newer than January 1st.

You planning on leaving the country?

Everything else he was carrying.

- What's that about, 200?
- Two-twelve.

This looks like some
kind of foreign deal.

World War II medal. French.

No one moves around holding just this.

Where you keeping the rest of your shit?

You got a friend in town? Girl?

What the hell are you doing in my town?

Don't want to talk?

Maybe we put you in the holding cell,

get you to change your mind.

And how exactly would you do that?

Explain to him his constitutional rights

under the Fifth and 14th Amendments,

then hope he waives them
of his own free will?

Yep.

No need. I've got it from here.

Take him to the conference
room. I'll be in in a moment.

Beantown bitch.

Mr. Reacher, I'm Chief
Detective Oscar Finlay.

I'll be asking you some questions.

I was informed you
were read your rights,

so you know you don't have to answer.

Hmm.

Body was found by the highway
embankment, near an overpass,

partially covered by
flattened-out cardboard boxes.

Two nine-millimeter,
95-grain, close-range shots

to the back of the head.

No casings found.

Victim was male, 30s, big guy.

He was beaten badly postmortem.

No I.D. yet.

Problem getting prints off
the body's swollen fingertips.

You know who this man was?

How he wound up dead?

Anything you want to share
besides your riveting company?

Okay, then.

Well, I'm not about to waste
the rest of my afternoon.

Maybe your court-appointed attorney

will get you to open up.

I don't need a lawyer.

He speaks.

When he wants to.

And why don't you need a lawyer?

Because I didn't kill anybody.

At least not recently.

And not in this town.

This is kind of impossible.

- What's that?
- This Reacher fella.

So far, run on his
prints has been clean,

but something can still turn up.

But there's no Facebook,
Snapchat, Instagram.

No driver's license,
mortgage, insurance claims.

No online profile at all.

The only proof Jack Reacher exists

is the fact that he's
sitting in that room.

Jack Reacher. Parents deceased.

One brother, Joe, older by two years.

Retired Army.

Commanded the 110th
Special Investigations Unit

of the Military Police.

Took out a few men in
the course of your duties.

All ruled good kills.

What if I'm thinking
I'm sitting across from

a man who doesn't mind killing

and who has the knowledge
and training to murder someone

and cover it up?

You'd be right.

But not this murder.

Three men dropped this body.

Enlighten me.

Shooter was someone
who knows firearms well.

Bullets were small caliber...
nine-millimeter, 95-grain.

That's subsonic. A silencer was used.

He also knew enough
to pick up his brass.

This wasn't a first-timer.

This was someone who knew how to
conduct a quiet, effective kill.

- Okay, go on.
- You're also looking for

a psycho who'd beat
up a body postmortem,

someone completely unhinged.

Totally different profile
from your professional shooter.

Something wrong?

No.

You said there were three.

Your psycho isn't suddenly
gonna be rational enough to know

he has to hide the body.

And your meticulous
shooter isn't gonna do

a sloppy job with roadside cardboard.

No, the third guy is so worried about

getting out of there, he
grabs some nearby debris

and just lays it across the corpse.

You said the victim was big,

so most likely his
feet were sticking out

and that's how he got spotted.

Tall people never have
enough room for their feet.

Interesting theory.

But you still match the
description of someone

seen walking the highway, earlier today,

near where the body was found.

Well, that's 'cause it was me.

I got off the bus from
Tampa and walked to town.

Greyhound doesn't have
a stop in Margrave.

I never said it did.

You just said you got off in Margrave.

I asked the driver to do me a favor.

- Why?
- On account of Blind Blake.

- Okay. Who's that?
- Blues singer.

Legend has it he died in
Margrave a long time ago.

I figured I'd learn a bit about him.

I like music.

So you have no home, no phone.

You get on a bus in Tampa with $212,

a toothbrush and a French war medal

and travel over 500 miles

to read up on a dead blues musician?

That sum up your past 24 hours?

No.

I also went to a diner,

ordered peach pie and
never got to eat it

'cause I was arrested for murder.

Okay.

Medical examiner puts
the victim's time of death

at around midnight last night.

This morning.

It's last night until
11:59 and 59 seconds,

and then it becomes this morning.

In an investigation, details matter.

12:00 a.m. this morning
is the time of death.

If I can confirm you were on
a Greyhound bus at that time,

you're cleared.

Until then, you're in the holding cell.

We're running down a phone number

found in the dead guy's shoe.

It was on a scrap of paper

with the word "Pluribus" written on it.

Want to clear that up,
too, before we let you go?

Know anything about that?

Means I'm gonna be here for a while.

Phone companies are slow
responding to warrants.

Too bad.

Law says we need a warrant.

Come on, you're in the hold.

Reacher, why does trouble
always seem to find you?

Mon dieu, Reacher!

The whole moving truck
could've burned down.

What were you thinking?
You cannot pack fireworks.

But they're from the Fourth of July.

They're still good.

This is the last of it.

Okay, next transfer, I
want half of the boxes.

I don't know how four people
accumulate all of this.

Ma'am, yes, ma'am.

Okay. Father and I will unpack.

You two, go and meet the base kids.

This is home now, hopefully for a while.

Go make friends.

Think we'll like it here?

School lessons will be the same.

Army-issued furniture will be the same.

It'll be just like
Cameroon, Belgium and Spain.

You the new guys that
just moved in today?

Yeah. This the way to the beach?

Yeah.

But it's five bucks.

What's five bucks?

From the looks of it, your jacket.

Yeah. I'm big for my age.

Just like you're ugly for your age.

Let's just go home.

Okay.

You don't have to do
this. It's my fight.

It's never just your fight.

You know, Mom was right.

Trouble does kind of seem to find you.

Thanks.

Been in here a while now.

Figured you could use a pick-me-up.

Not my fault.

Trouble just kind of seems to find me.

What I could really use
is getting these ties off.

Chief Morrison says they stay on.

Assumed you liked it black.

How'd you figure?

Seem like a no-nonsense guy.

Cream and sugar are nonsense.

So you know I'm innocent.

How do you figure?

I doubt it's procedure to
bring coffee to the guilty.

Well, if you are guilty of
something, can't be much.

Preliminary run on your
prints turned up nothing.

Bad guys set off bells
and whistles right away.

Roscoe, we're taking a ride.

Got a hit on the phone number.

Sorry. Ceramic.

Thank you.

Sorry, Baker.

So, Paul, when I called, I informed you

your cell number was found
at the situs of a crime.

You invited me over to chat
but never asked what crime.

Found that strange.

Well, you scared the shit out of me.

Hmm.

I wasn't thinking.

I just wanted to get you
over here so we could talk.

- About what?
- You tell me.

Murder.

You know anything about that?

Unidentified male shot to death.

He was found with your number

written on a paper scrap in his shoe.

I did it.

I killed the guy.

It was me.

Mr. Hubble, for your
protection and ours,

I'm going to record
you getting your rights.

No, I-I know my rights.

I understand I don't have to
talk or anything and that I get

a lawyer and all that,
but I did it, okay?

I killed the guy, by the highway.

I was the one.

Okay, so this man you killed...

... what was his name?

I-I don't know.

You killed a man you don't know?

Yeah, that's right.

It was, uh... self-defense.

Okay, you said it took
place by the highway.

Where exactly along the highway?

I-I told you I did it, okay?

I'm not about to rehash all the details.

You are my second annoying
interrogation today.

So you expect me to believe that you,

a man with no criminal record,
that you just blew a man away?

A double-barrel shotgun
blast right to the face?

And then burnt the body?

Yes, I did.

And-and that's all
I'm gonna say about it.

Your life's about to get
very complicated, Mr. Hubble.

Get in.

Reacher, come with me.

No.

Excuse me?

Not until you let
these zip ties come off.

We both know I didn't kill anybody,

and they're uncomfortable.

Get the box cutter.

That's okay.

I got it.

You guys recycle?

Outside. Uncuffed.

Treating me like a
person instead of a perp.

I've done the same thing
a million times when I want

a suspect to trust me
even when they shouldn't.

I have no ulterior
motives, just information.

That other guy, Paul Hubble, banker.

Lives in Margrave, works in Atlanta.

No priors.

He just confessed to the murder.

Oh. How nice.

- Thanks for the hospitality.
- Not so fast.

You want to run? Go for it.

But I doubt you're that
fast or that bulletproof.

I was just cleared.

One guy lied about killing another guy.

- That doesn't clear you.
- Good town to murder in.

Even when you confess,
nothing happens to you.

Oh, you saw Hubble. He's a citizen.

He can't shoot pool let
alone shoot a person.

He admitted to things
that didn't even happen.

He just wants me to think he did it

and not look into the
matter any further.

You think I'm working with him.

Now that he's implicated himself,

I'm worried he might implicate me.

So maybe I'll cut a deal and talk.

Maybe I'm just thinking
the guy who was seen

near the murder site, guilty or not,

might still have information to share.

I don't. But Stevenson does.

He and Hubble were
looking at each other.

They looked at each other?

They held eye contact for
a full two Mississippis.

Stevenson and Hubble have
cousins that married each other.

He's just worried about family.

It's more than that.

You always so confident
in your theories?

As confident as I am
that you went to Harvard,

you're recently divorced,

and you quit smoking
in the last six months.

How'd you come up with that?

My friend back there, Baker,
he called you a Beantown bitch.

And from all appearances,
you're well-educated,

but you took a job in
the middle of nowhere

with people that look nothing like you.

You're stubborn. You have
a chip on your shoulder.

You don't care if your
coworkers like you.

A guy like that doesn't go to B.U.

He goes to Harvard.

To show those blue-blood
assholes what he's capable of.

Am I right?

About going to Harvard? Yes.

You're also about 40,

which means you did
your 20 at Boston P.D.

to get your pension, so you can
afford a proper Southern suit,

but you still look like
Black Sherlock Holmes.

Means no woman in your life
making sure you dress right.

Death or divorce.

At your age, divorce
is a higher probability.

But you still wear the ring.

By the wear on it, you play
with it, obsess over it.

Like I said, you're stubborn.

Still hoping to reconcile
with the old lady.

- Her name's Sharon.
- As for the smoking,

when I broke down the
three murderers back there,

you started to think
you had the wrong guy.

Stressed you out.

The water in your glass moved a bit.

We're not on any major fault lines.

That means your leg was
bouncing under the table.

That combined with the
slight aroma of cigarettes

in your suit... 'cause it's
hard to get out of... tweed...

and I assume nicotine withdrawal.

Most studies show it
takes four to six months

to fully break a habit.

You keep up the good work, though.

Those things are killers.

Back inside.

Follow me.

Stevenson, my office.

This man seems to think you
know something about Hubble

that you aren't sharing with me.

That true?

Answer isn't on your shoes.

Uh, sir, there was a-a
family party last night.

My, uh, grandparents, their
anniversary, their 50th...

I don't care.

Right.

Well, Hubble and Charlie were there.

- Who's Charlie?
- Charlene. His wife.

We stayed late. We
danced with our wives.

Way past 2:00. I drove them home.

I don't know why his number

was in that guy's shoe,

and I don't know why he confessed.

All I know is that at midnight,

he was nowhere near that highway.

- Hubble into drugs?
- No.

- He cheat on his wife?
- No. He's a family man.

Don't answer his questions.
He's not your boss.

- Right. Sorry.
- Does he having money problems?

I don't know what to do.

Just answer the question.

No. He's rich.

Okay. Get out of here.

Drugs, money, infidelity.

If Stevenson's right, we've
eliminated the big three,

which means the only way you'll know

why Hubble confessed is if he tells you.

Yeah, well, maybe a weekend
in lockup will motivate him.

Let me know what he says.

What the hell does that mean?

You figured out I quit smoking

but can't figure out
what's happening right now?

This is bullshit. You have a confession.

I helped with the investigation.

You helped me?

You seem to be confused about
your role in this situation.

You are my detainee and suspect,
not my partner or my equal.

And you're certainly not,
by employment, appearance

or lifestyle choice, a cop anymore.

Now, Chief Morrison wants you in custody

till we know for sure that
all six-foot-four of you

was on that bus from Tampa.

Six-foot-five.

In an investigation, details matter.

Here's a detail for you.

We keep extra-large
cuffs in our lockbox.

Inventory his watch and ring.

They'll steal them first
five minutes he's in there.

It was nice talking to you.

Thanks.

For the watch thing.

Shut up.

You ruined my trip here.

Jesus.

My name's Officer Spivey.

Time to follow the yellow
brick road, inmates.

Y'all be housed far away
from the animal factory,

till they can line up a
weekend arraignment for you.

All the fixings.

Ain't no jumper gonna fit you, big boy.

But a Samoan fella come through
here last year... meth dealer...

had scrubs made up special.

Might be a little
tight in the shoulders.

Whoa! Not so fast.

Drop them drawers, bend over and spread.

No.

Blanket strip search
policies are unconstitutional

unless there's clear articulable
suspicion of criminal activity.

The victim I'm suspected of murdering

was shot by a handgun that
would measure four inches by six.

That weapon's not fitting inside me

or any other human being without
sending them to a hospital.

Since that's the only
contraband related to this crime,

your request is unlawful.

It's not like I want to do this.

Regulations say...

The only thing up my
ass right now is you.

So if you think you can
perform the inspection

without getting seriously
injured, go for it.

Otherwise, check the
box on your clipboard.

Go on.

Mm-hmm.

Really sorry I got you into this.

- It wasn't my intention...
- Remember when I said

"shut up" on the bus?

Same rule goes for jail.

- Well, that's not good.
- What's going on?

We're not with guys
awaiting arraignment.

- We're with the lifers.
- What do you mean, lifers?

I mean people sentenced for life.

If I were you, I'd be less
worried about their sentences

and more concerned with their swaps.

Swaps?

Guys swapping smokes, desserts, TV time,

all for first crack at you.

You're not a human in
here. You're currency.

So stop stressing and
save your strength.

Gonna need it.

There she is.

Whoo. She pretty.

Look, she even got
pretty little shoes on.

Give me them shoes, baby.

Come on, now. You heard me.

Give me my shoes like
a good little bitch.

I said give them to me.

Good girl.

I like them glasses,
too. Give me my glasses.

Now there's just one more
thing I want from you.

Look at this redwood motherfucker.

What you want?

To give you a choice.

See, you're in my house, fatso,
and you didn't ask permission.

So you and your friends can leave now,

or they can carry your
fat ass out in a bucket.

Now I'll count to three.

Bitch, do you know who you talking to?

One.

Two.

You owe us a pair of glasses.

Now get out of my cell.

I'm not a ventriloquist.

Get off my lap.

I won't let anybody touch you.

Thank you.

You're the only thing
keeping me alive in here.

I'm in big trouble.

- No shit.
- I'm not a criminal.

A fucking currency manager.

They gave me no choice.

These guys, they forced me

to help them with their
financial scheme, okay?

And I know everyone who's ever caught

says they were forced
into it, but I really was.

And the people I'm
working for made it clear

- if I jam them up...
- Then you'd be killed.

I wish that were all.

My bosses promised, if
I disrupt their operation

in any way, they'd...

They'd nail me to a wall.

Literally.

In front of my family.

They'd cut my balls
off and make me eat 'em.

Then they'd bleed me and
my wife out slow so we'd die

knowing our kids were
left with those psychos,

not knowing what would be done to them.

I'm gonna hit the head.

I'll go with you.

Figured as much.

Him.

If you boys knew what's about to
happen to you, you'd leave now.

So I'll give you to the count of three.

One.

Security team to gen pop shower four.

Against the wall! Move!

What the hell are you
two doing down here?

Come on. Let's go,
before the warden sees.

Let's go! Let's go!

My report says you were placed upstairs.

Why are you in gen pop?

That's where the guy put us.

Anyone asks, you've
been here the whole time.

Understand?

Hi. This is Sharon Finlay.

Leave a message, and I'll get you back.

Hey.

It's me. Um...

I'm just, uh...

I'm just dealing with a tough case...

... alone in the middle
of Georgia, and I just...

... wish you would call me back.

Uh, come in.

Boss. Got Reacher's
military record from D.C.

You want to hear the
back of his baseball card?

I do.

West Point graduate.

Silver Star.

Defense Superior Service Medal.

Legion of Merit, Soldier's Medal,

Army Commendation Medal, Bronze Star,

a second Silver Star and a Purple Heart

for wounds sustained in the bombing

of a Marines barracks in Kandahar.

"Major Reacher ran into the inferno,

carrying soldiers out two at a time.

Witnesses report six separate
trips, confirming 12 were saved.

Major Reacher suffered
severe smoke inhalation,

but returned to active duty
32 hours later despite having

shrapnel remains of a jawbone
removed from his abdomen."

- Want to hear his MP numbers?
- No.

Over 150 closed cases, all
successful prosecutions,

more than 20 fugitives captured.

What in God's name is a guy
like that doing in Margrave?

What's a guy like that doing in jail?

Hate to be the one who put him in there.

Get out of my office.

♪ Wake up ♪

♪ Wake up ♪

♪ Get up ♪

♪ Get up ♪

♪ Wake up... ♪

I been hoping a Beatles
song would come on.

They soothe me.

Ever since Mama'd sing me "Rocky
Raccoon" when I had a cold.

♪ Let me do my thing ♪

♪ Let me do my thing ♪

♪ Yes, I felt... ♪

Sorry if I woke you.

It's okay.

Came a while ago.

You-you can have mine.

I don't have an appetite.

♪ Yes, I felt my pain ♪

♪ Hmm, yeah ♪

♪ As I'm falling to sleep ♪

♪ In hope that someone listens ♪

♪ Pray the Lord hears me,
innocent people going missing ♪

♪ On the journey to the riches ♪

♪ While we're standing,
taking pictures... ♪

You should eat.

You look like hell.

That's 'cause I saw you
gouge a man's eyes out.

He started it.

♪ Finding you a new replacement,
nothing's wrong with me... ♪

They might try to kill me
as soon as I'm bailed out.

You important to their operation?

♪ Let me do my thing ♪

♪ Yes, I felt my pain... ♪

Real important.

Then you're probably okay.

But bodies are falling. Means
someone's getting nervous.

When that happens,
things can change fast.

I'm more curious why whoever
you work for wants me dead.

- What do you mean?
- That guard from last night,

Spivey,

he set us up in gen pop.

He'd play it off like it was
some kind of innocent mistake,

but it was intentional.

Guys in the shower I.D.'d
me as a person to take out.

Once I'm out of here, I'm gone,

Something bad's going down in Margrave,

and I don't need to be a part of it.

My wife should be here soon.

I don't give a shit.

Figured a guy with no money,
I.D. or car could use a lift.

- That's me.
- Greyhound confirmed

that's their Tampa
station two nights ago.

No way you could've been in
Margrave in time to kill anyone.

Common carriers are
notoriously difficult.

N-Nothing without a warrant.
How'd you get them to cooperate?

Lied.

Said that we suspected
one of their employees

of using their buses to transport coke.

If they didn't cooperate,
promised to pull

a civil forfeiture on
everything with wheels

until our investigation was over.

Got that video within the hour.

So you cleared me,

but how does the guy
who confessed walk away?

Well, everybody knows
that Hubble's lying,

so we're holding off on charges,

hoping that a nervous guy like
him just does something dumb

that leads us to the truth

or just cracks and spills
what really went down.

Smart approach, Officer Roscoe.

Roscoe's actually my first name.

Never met a woman named Roscoe before.

Yeah, you did.

A day ago.

So what's your last name?

Conklin.

Caught a love tap inside?

I got set up.

- By who?
- Some guard.

Just the errand boy.

But whoever he took
orders from wanted me gone,

and they're gonna get what they want.

I'm on the next bus out of here.

That's a shame.

I feel bad about the Margrave
welcome wagon running you over.

I was gonna apologize
with an early dinner,

but if you're not sticking around...

Okay.

Great.

But I'm gonna need
some new clothes first.

Lockup's made me a bit gamey.

Oh, we got a Merl's Men's Shop in town.

I don't need anything that fancy.

Just T-shirt and jeans.

I travel light.

You sure you don't
want to get new threads?

They'll be new to me.

I don't get it.

Don't you want a home base or something?

Had a home base my whole life.

Grew up in the military,
worked in the military.

Always told where to
go, when to be there.

Now I see my country on my own terms.

What about money?

Pension's wired to a
Western Union each month.

Don't you miss your family?

I guess so. They're all dead.

Except for my brother Joe.

- He's a good guy.
- Where's he?

No idea.

So what really brought you to Margrave?

Can't be some blues singer.

I don't lie to people
who get me out of jail.

I'm here because of Blind Blake,

but actually it's on
account of Chauncey.

Who's Chauncey?

A couple days ago, I go to
Chauncey's Bar & Grill in Tampa.

Guy there was playing "Police
Dog Blues" by Blind Blake.

I remembered a conversation I had

with my brother Joe a while back.

Read some article about Blake,
said he played his last show

in Margrave, and that's where he died.

So I got on a bus.

So you just go wherever
you want, whenever you want?

Everyone's always jealous.

Well, yeah, that's, um...

... an interesting approach to life.

Works for me.

So I'll check out the town for a while

- and see you in a bit.
- Sounds good.

Now, don't go getting yourself
arrested for murder again.

If you want a trim,

you got to wait.

It's Mosley's meal time.

I was thinking a shave, Mr. Mosley.

Blind alley cat can shave and eat.

Heard Mississippi Fred
McDowell coming from your shop.

Thought a blues fan
might be able to tell me

a bit about Blind
Blake's time in Margrave.

Huh.

Surprised a white man your
age knows Fred McDowell.

More surprised you know Blind Blake,

Mr. Reacher.

Small town.

When a giant stranger
gets arrested for murder,

word gets around.

Course, Ms. Roscoe cleared you,
so I ain't scared of you none.

My age, I ain't scared of nothing much.

Yeah, me neither.

And everyone just calls me Reacher.

Even my mother did.

Well, back you go.

You know, my sister sang
with Blake a few times

back in the day.

He'd come through town each year,

play the church or
some barn in the sticks.

- I heard he died here.
- That's the rumor.

People would come from
all over town to hear it,

even white folks.

One hell of a town it is.

Freshly painted gazebo.

Manicured flower beds.

Statue recently polished.

Got to think it's more than civic pride.

That it is.

The Kliner Foundation
takes care of Margrave.

Ever since Mr. Kliner came
to town about five years back

from St. Louis to set up
his company right here.

What kind of company is that?

You name it, Kliner do it.

Real estate, trucking,
chemicals, machine parts.

That statue out there? Casper Teale?

His grandson's our mayor.

He gave Kliner a sweetheart
land deal for his factory.

And in return, Kliner
pours money into the town.

Win-win.

That there is Kliner Jr.

and his bughouse cousin Dawson.

Everyone calls Junior KJ.

I call him trouble.

Keep my seat warm, would you?

You looking for a dance partner?

'Cause the last person
who eyeballed me like that

was a woman down in Panama

when I was stationed at Fort Sherman,

and she wanted to dance
the tamborito with me.

Do you want to dance
the tamborito with me?

- Hell, I'll dance.
- Not talking to you, peewee.

I was talking to the
guy in pricier boots,

better haircut and expensive truck

he lets you sit shotgun in.

So...

... you want me to lead or... ?

I'm not much of a dancer.

More of an academic and a reader.

Fact, I was reading something
interesting just this morning

about some charges brought
against a Major Jack Reacher

in a small village outside of Baghdad.

Charges of a very serious nature,

but charges that somehow disappeared,

like grains of sand in
an unforgiving desert.

Somehow, the desert ended
up forgiving you, didn't it?

We don't forgive as easily in Margrave.

Watch your back, Mr. Reacher.

Hey.

Sorry, dinner's not gonna happen.

- What's going on?
- Another body was found.

In the brush, 40 yards
from the first one.

Same caliber bullet.

Got to go to the morgue.

Can't say I'm not disappointed.

I was looking forward
to spending time with you

before leaving.

Well, I don't know if you're
going anywhere just yet.

Reacher!

Did Hubble talk when
you two were locked up?

- No.
- Baloney.

Easy, Finlay. Watch your language.

You think this is funny?

I got a town of 1,700
people and two homicides.

He didn't talk to me the
whole time we were in there.

- I don't believe you.
- I don't care.

- Dinner would've been nice.
- You're not going anywhere.

My alibi cleared.

Just 'cause we know you weren't
here when these bodies dropped

doesn't mean you might not
have something to do with them.

So I'm wondering if maybe it was

some other six-foot-five gorilla
on that grainy Greyhound tape.

Maybe I need to bring
in a forensic expert

to confirm it was you.

And maybe you need to cool
your heels back in Warburton

while we get that done over
the next two or three weeks.

Or you get in the car,
we go to the morgue.

Perhaps the medical
examiner will say something

that jars your memory about Hubble

and you can share it with me.

First you make it clear
I'm not a cop anymore.

Now you want my help?

I want you to do what I say.

Now.

Sometimes you're dead and
you don't even know it.

This second guy, he was
shot in the back of the head

while running away, but
his legs kept pumping

for a few more feet
before his brain told him,

"Hey, buddy, you're dead," so
he fell over into the weeds.

At least that's what the blood
spatters at the scene said.

He was shot from far enough
away and it was so dark

he couldn't be found, so the
killer just left him there.

No I.D. on him.

Killers.

In an investigation, details matter.

Most likely more than one doer.

Well, these are my first murders,

so please tell me you know who did this.

Mm-mm.

What about our first John Doe?

- Any luck?
- Nope.

He's been harder to
crack than a steel walnut.

Dental work was inconsistent.

Some of it was done in the
U.S., and the rest was foreign.

And his fingertips were compromised by

a dermatitis reaction.

So swollen, prints
wouldn't come out clean

until I drained some of the fluid.

We're waiting for the results.

Whoa. No, do not...

Um, is he new on the force or... ?

No.

Well, kind of.

First victim was allergic to latex.

Killers must've worn some kind
of polyvinyl protective suit

to keep blood DNA off themselves.

The victim grabbed it in the
struggle, causing his fingertips

to swell in a histaminic reaction.

His dental work's off
'cause he had his teeth fixed

wherever he was living at the time.

Broke his right arm when he
was eight, had it set in Berlin.

Had his tonsils taken
out at ten in Seoul.

We were wrestling.

I pinned him against the stove.

Didn't know my mother
had just turned it off.

That's how my brother got this scar.

You tell me right now what's going on.

What was your brother doing in Margrave?

- I don't know.
- So it's just a coincidence

you and he are passing through
the exact same Podunk town

at the exact same moment in time?

- I don't know.
- When's the last time you saw Joe?

A minute ago in the morgue.

- You being smart with me?
- I'm being straight with you.

Hell, no wonder Sharon left you.

You keep my wife's
name out of your mouth.

No. Enough.

Reacher, you crossed a line.

Finlay, let it rest.

This man just lost his brother.

One question, and I want the truth.

What are you doing here in Margrave?

Blind Blake!

You're messing with the wrong man.

I'll tell you that right now.

I swear, I'm gonna find any reason I can

to lock you up again.

Oh, you won't even get the cuffs on me.

Okay, this isn't gonna happen.
Reacher, sit in the back.

Hey. I know you're not
the kind of guy to beat up

on somebody half your
size without good reason.

- He's giving me a reason.
- Yeah?

Well, I know people.

And you've got kind eyes.

Do what I say, Reacher.

Please.

You okay, Reacher?

Just thinking maybe my brother told
me about Blind Blake, for a reason.

Thinking about him lying in that morgue.

Thinking I'm supposed
to do something about it.

Like what?

I guess I'll find everybody responsible.

And kill every last one of them.

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