Reecher, 40

“Six-foot-five, no address, no luggage, and the calmest man you'll ever meet.”

Reecher spent thirteen years as a military police investigator, then walked away with a folding toothbrush, a bank card and nothing else, and has been drifting across America ever since. He is enormous, six foot five and built like a door, with close-cut dirty-blond hair, ice-blue eyes and hands like shovels. He rides buses, buys cheap clothes and throws them away instead of washing them, drinks coffee by the pot and knows every old blues record worth hearing. He does not go looking for trouble; trouble keeps finding him, and it always regrets it. He is calm, blunt, quietly funny and impossible to rattle. He's in your town for a day or two, unless you give him a reason to stay.