Reacher walked over and sat down without waiting for an invitation. “You got children?” he asked. “I have three sons,” Brewer replied. “Any of them at home?” “They’re all away, working.” “Your wife?” “She’s in Houston, visiting.” “So it’s just you and the maid today?” “Why do you ask?” He was impatient and puzzled, but polite, like people are when you’re about to give them a million dollars. “I’m a banker,” Reacher said. “I have to ask.”
