Page 14 of In Too Deep

“No pain. Eyesight was blurry for a while. It’s OK now.”

“Sensitivity to light?”

“No more than usual.”

Holmes pulled a slim flashlight from his pocket. He switched it on, held it out, and moved it slowly from side to side. “Follow thelight with your eyes. Just your eyes. Keep your head still. Does that hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Your pupils are reacting normally. How’s your depth perception?”

“Same as always.”

Holmes put the flashlight away. “Obviously it would be better if you could go to the hospital, get checked out properly, but I’m not too worried. I think you have a mild concussion. I want you to take it easy for twenty-four hours. You can take Tylenol if you need to, but not aspirin or Advil. No alcohol, either. After that you can get back to light exercise. Whatever feels right. Just make sure not to hit your head on anything. That’s very important.”

“Understood. Thanks, Doc.”

“No problem. Now let’s take care of your wrist.”

Holmes selected a sterile package from his backpack. It was cylindrical, about twelve inches long and three in diameter. “The pain is sharp, not dull, and eases when your wrist is still and not being touched?”

Reacher nodded.

“OK. Well, in an ideal situation the first step would be to establish the full extent and location of the injury, but that would call for an X-ray machine and obviously we don’t have one here. So I’m going to assume the radius or the ulna is fractured, or possibly one of the carpal bones.” Holmes tore open the package and took out a roll of some kind of tight, black, mesh-like material. “Hold your hand up, pointing at the ceiling, fingers together, thumb out.”

Reacher did as he was asked.

“Good.” Holmes pulled out a bunch of rods from the middle of the roll and set them on the bed. The rods were round, made of plastic, and ranged in length from twelve inches to four. He straightenedout the material, which made it look more like a mat, a half-inch thick, with long pockets let into one side. He held it up alongside Reacher’s hand and forearm. Stared at it for ten seconds. Then rolled it back up, gripped it with both hands, and bent it double like he was trying to snap it in half. “We have to move fast now. There are two chemical compounds in this sleeve and now that they’re mixed, they’re going to set. Rapidly. And harder than regular plaster. So I need you to be ready. Don’t move.” Holmes grabbed some of the rods and started to feed them into the pockets in the sleeve. He started with an eight-inch rod in the first pocket. He slid twelve-inch rods into the next six and finished with another eight-inch in the last one. “This will hurt at first. I’m sorry.” He held the sleeve up and wrapped it around Reacher’s wrist, starting below his knuckles and extending to his forearm, his thumb protruding through the open side. Then Holmes pulled back four broad Velcro tabs—one above Reacher’s thumb, three below—and wrapped them around to fasten the sleeve in place.

“Can I move now?”

“Go ahead. Take it easy for ten minutes but once it’s set you can do everything you normally would. You can even take a shower. Just don’t knock it against anything.”

—

Holmes had alreadyleft when Vidic got back with Reacher’s food and drink. He set the paper sacks on the desk then stepped up close to get a clear look at Reacher’s wrist.

Vidic gestured toward the cast. “That thing working? You feeling better?”

Reacher nodded. “Good as new.”

“How about your head?”

“Still attached.”

“And your memory? Does Buck think it’ll come back?”

Something about the tone of the question put Reacher on the defensive. He didn’t know why but something made him reluctant to turn his cards face up, so he said, “He wasn’t hopeful.”

“Oh. That sucks. Well, get some rest. I’ll come back for you tomorrow. Maybe the day after. If so I’ll bring you some more food. Or send someone you can trust. But whichever day we leave, remember, no one can know you’re here. Keep the drapes closed and don’t leave the room. Not for a minute.”

“Leave here?” Reacher said. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chapter8

Reacher leaned down so thathis eye lined up with the peephole in the motel room door. He looked out into the parking lot and immediately caught sight of Vidic’s back moving quickly away. The fish-eye lens made Vidic’s body look swollen and round, like a balloon figure, and he seemed to be floating rather than walking. He was making for his Jeep. That was clear. Its white body and black hood made it easy to spot despite the distorted optics. Reacher saw the dome light suddenly glow. Vidic’s angular head was silhouetted, just for a moment, then the Jeep’s cab went dark again. Vidic must have closed his door. Reacher couldn’t tell if he had started the engine, but the Jeep’s headlights didn’t come on. The Jeep didn’t move. It stayed where it was for a minute. Two minutes. Reacher smiled. It was what he had expected. Vidic was watching in case he broke the terms of their deal and bolted. Then Reacher made a bet with himself. He had Vidic pegged as an impatient kind of guy. He wouldn’t last more than a quarter of an hour before he gave up and left. Reacher was the opposite. He would wait all night if he had to. Afifteen-minute delay barely registered as an inconvenience. Particularly when there were two other things he needed to do.

Reacher took the Styrofoam coffee cup from one of the paper sacks that Vidic had left and carried it to the bed. He sat down and took a sip. It wasn’t the best he’d ever had. It was lukewarm, gritty, and it had a burnt, bitter aftertaste. But it contained caffeine, and that was what counted. It would be easier to persuade a heroin addict not to shoot up than to stop Reacher drinking coffee. His brother, Joe, had been the same way. On the rare occasions he gave it any thought Reacher blamed his genetics. Mostly he just looked forward to his next cup.

---