All language subtitles for reacher.s01e01.1080p.bluray.x264-broadcast

Ah-oh, smokestack lightnin'

Shinin'just like gold

Why don't you
hear me cryin'?

Whoo-hoo

Whoo-hoo

Whoo

Whoa-oh, tell me, baby

What's the matter
with you...

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.

Whoa-oh, tell me, baby

Why did you stay last night?

Why don't you
hear me cryin'...

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

Whoo-hoo

Won't happen again.

Whoo...

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...

Whoa-oh, stop your train

Let a poor boy ride

Why don't you
hear me cryin'?

Whoo-hoo

Whoo-hoo

Whoa-oh, fare you well...

Police!

Police! Don't move!

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

Why don't you
hear me cryin'...

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

nice and slow.

Do it now!

Slow!

Hands.

Whoa-oh...

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.

Mmm-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 ID 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 could 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?

Reacher, 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 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 have 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.

Mmm-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 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.

Line 'em up, line 'em up,
your time is up

Time is up, time is up,
so line 'em up

Line 'em up, line 'em up,
your time is up

Time is up, time is up,
so line 'em up

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?

In this world

Where people

Are fighting with each other

Nobody to count on

Not even your own brother

So if someone comes along

Who gives you
genuine affection

Get it while you can

Get it while you can...

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.

Baby

We may not be
here tomorrow...

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

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 ID'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,
ID 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.

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 and 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 see my baby,
Lordy, stand around

You know we somewhere,
baby, Lord, mama

Shake 'em on down,
Lordy, must I low

If you come to my house,
you don't find me around

You know we somewhere,
baby, Lord, mama

Shake 'em on down

Lordy, must I low...

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 ID 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.

Mmm-mmm.

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.

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.

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.

Yeah

Yeah, you got satin shoes

Yeah, you got plastic boots

Y'all got cocaine eyes

Yeah, you got
speed-freakjive, now

Can't you hear me knockin'
on your window?

Can't you hear me knockin'
on your door?

Can't you hear me knockin'
down your dirty street?

Yeah

Help me, baby

Ain't no stranger

Help me, baby

Ain't no stranger

Help me, baby

Ain't no stranger

Can't you hear me knockin'?

Ah, are you safe asleep?

Can't you hear me knockin'?

Yeah, down the
gas light street, now

Can't you hear me knockin'?

Yeah, throw me down the keys

All right, now