by Lee Child
‘I don’t have a boyfriend.’
‘So your friends, then.’
‘No.’
‘OK, then. Let me ask you this. Before last night do you know how many times I’ve been mistaken for an insurance guy?’
Holly didn’t reply.
‘Zero times,’ Reacher said. ‘In the whole of my life. And then twice in half an hour. First you. Then them. You had a reason. You saw me with the real insurance guy.’
Holly was silent.
‘The bozos had a reason too,’ Reacher said. ‘A different one.’
Holly didn’t respond.
‘They thought I was an insurance guy because you told them I was,’ Reacher said. ‘They didn’t see me getting out of the real guy’s car, and let’s face it, they don’t have the brains to jump to their own conclusions anyway. Even the wrong conclusions. Can we at least agree on that?’
‘I guess,’ Holly said.
‘Everyone in town knows the insurance company is going to pay the ransom and get the computers working. The bozos wanted the insurance company to back off. That means you want the insurance company to back off. Which means you want the computers to stay locked down. Why?’
Holly didn’t answer.
‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘Let’s approach this from a different direction. When did your boyfriend last get himself arrested?’
Holly’s good eye widened. ‘I told you, I don’t have a boyfriend.’
‘Yes you do.’
She shook her head and looked at the ground.
‘Do you smoke, Holly?’
She glanced at the ashtray on the table. ‘Sometimes. After work. When I’ve had a hard day.’
‘You wear makeup at work?’
Holly nodded.
‘Then how come none of those cigarette butts have lipstick on them?’
Holly bit her lower lip for a moment. ‘Because of when I smoke them. I come home from work and take off my makeup and put on my pyjamas and my robe and I come out for one ciggie right before bed. It relaxes me. Helps me get off to sleep.’
‘I don’t believe you. I think they’re your boyfriend’s. I think he sits out here in the fresh air, smoking, while you’re working your tail off at the diner to pay for his habit.’
‘No. He doesn’t.’ She shook her head. ‘I told you. I don’t have a—’
The door slid open and a man stepped out and shoved Holly aside. He was around six feet two, skinny, with pallid skin speckled with uneven patches of ginger stubble. He had greasy hair tied up in a ponytail which dangled between his shoulder blades. He was wearing lounge pants, baggy and shapeless and covered with cartoon superheroes, and a T-shirt that once might have been white.
‘Stop asking questions.’ The guy stumbled forward. His eyes were barely open as they struggled to adjust to the sunlight. He took another step, picked up one of the metal chairs, and brandished it as if he was trying to tame a lion. ‘Shut your mouth. And leave.’
‘What’s your name?’ Reacher said.
The guy didn’t respond.
‘It’s a simple question. Most people get to grips with their name long before they start kindergarten. Some even learn to write it down. But if you need more time, Holly and I could go inside. She could get me a cup of coffee. We could chat.’
‘My name’s Bob.’
‘Good,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ll assume you’re lying, but Bob’s as good a name as any so we’ll go with it. Now, Bob. Do you want to do this out here? I was thinking we could go upstairs. See if any more wardrobe doors have been left open.’
The guy glared at Holly.
‘Although it does look like you could use some sunlight so I’ll do you a deal. Answer one question, truthfully, and I won’t insert any part of that chair into any part of your body.’
The guy didn’t reply.
‘The last time you got arrested,’ Reacher said. ‘When was that?’
No reply.
‘It’s not hard,’ Reacher said. ‘Start with the day of the week. There are only seven to pick from.’
No reply.
‘Are your arms getting tired yet?’ Reacher said. ‘Feel free to put that thing down any time.’
The chair was not a great choice of weapon. It was too light to use as a club, especially against someone Reacher’s size. And it was too unwieldy to stab with. The guy’s best option was to throw it, preferably making it spin, and try to exploit Reacher’s natural instinct to bat it away. His arms might be out of position, just for a moment. His attention might waver, very slightly. The guy might get one chance to land a blow. If he was fast enough.
The guy didn’t throw the chair. He took half a step and jabbed at Reacher’s body with it. He took another half step and jabbed at Reacher’s body again. Then he raised the chair higher and lunged for Reacher’s face. Reacher grabbed the closest leg with his left hand and forced the chair out to the side. The guy clung on. He was pulling as hard as he could, desperate to retrieve it. It was his lance. His shield. His property, and he wasn’t about to give it up. He was heaving with both hands. Which left his head and body completely exposed. Reacher could have kept the tug of war going all afternoon but he had a rule when it came to fights. Finish them. And finish them fast. So he launched a huge scything roundhouse punch with his right hand. His fist hit the side of the guy’s head like a sledgehammer. His feet left the ground and he flew sideways, landing crumpled in the dirt where the grass should have been and sending up a thin plume of dust.
Holly ran to him, crouched down, and felt his neck for a pulse. ‘Is he OK?’ she said. ‘Is he alive?’
‘Probably.’ Reacher replaced the chair next to the table. ‘Physically, anyway. Now go inside. Get dressed. Grab your purse.’
‘Why? Where are you taking me?’
‘Nowhere. You’re going on your own. You need to stay away from the house for a couple of hours. The police will be here soon. After that you can come back. Or not. It’s up to you.’
It took Holly ten minutes to prepare herself to face the world. Reacher used the time to carry the inert guy on to the patio and tie him to the chair he’d just been brandishing. She appeared in the kitchen in a pink flowery sundress, white sneakers, and a denim baseball cap. She glared at Reacher then turned away without saying a word. He looped around the side of the garage and watched her drive away in an old silver Mazda roadster with its roof up. Then he returned to the kitchen and helped himself to the coffee that was left in the pot. He waited another ten minutes in case she doubled back. Then he made his way back to Marty’s car and told Rutherford to drive to the police station.
‘It’s time to level with me, Rusty,’ Reacher said as they took the first right-angle bend. ‘What are you not telling me?’
‘Nothing.’ Rutherford glanced across at Reacher. ‘I mean, like what?’
‘The guys who are after you. We need to figure out what they want. They don’t want to kill you – not yet, anyway – or they would have done it already. They don’t want retribution or they would have sent a couple of low-rent clowns like the ones from last night. Their operation is too sophisticated for that. And too expensive. So they must want something. Something valuable.’
‘I don’t have anything valuable.’
‘What about information? Something only you know.’
‘I don’t know anything. Nothing important anyway.’
‘Maybe you do. It could be something that seemed trivial when you learned it. Something you came across at work but didn’t realize the significance of at the time. You were the town’s IT manager, right? So you must have had access to all the town’s computers. All its data. Didn’t you ever get bored and search through confidential records? Read people’s emails?’
‘Of course I did. Everyone does that.’
‘What kind of secrets did you find?’
‘Nothing interesting.’
‘Anyone having an affair?’
‘No.’
‘Anyone being pressured to vote a
particular way?’
‘Nothing about voting.’
‘Anyone taking bribes?’
‘No.’
‘Any money missing?’
‘Nothing like that.’ Rutherford blipped the gas and swung around a garbage truck.
‘Maybe you picked up some information without realizing. The email from the dead journalist, for example. Could there have been any kind of message hidden in it?’
‘No.’ Rutherford slowed as a minivan pulled out of a driveway. ‘There were no attachments. And her messages were just simple questions about property records. From the 1940s or 50s, I think. Nothing I have any knowledge about, anyway.’
‘What about the regular mail? Did you receive anything unusual? At home, or at the office?’
‘No. I get hardly any mail. Beside bills. And junk.’
‘Have you bought anything recently? An old book? A painting? A piece of furniture? A car? Some vintage clothes? Anything a document or a computer disc could be concealed in?’
‘I got some new Blu-rays. But the ones I haven’t watched yet are still sealed up in their wrappers.’
‘Have there been any other coincidences? Like the journalist contacting you, then winding up dead?’
‘I can’t think of any. My life really isn’t very exciting. All I did was work for the town.’
‘I believe you, Rusty. But if I find out you were moonlighting for NASA or the CIA, I’m going to be pissed.’
‘I wish. But can you really see a bunch of rocket scientists or spies knocking on my door? Asking for my help? I told you about my only side project. The one I was working on with my friend. And it’s worthless. It didn’t work. Nobody wants it. Not even me.’
ELEVEN
Reacher left Rutherford in the car like he was a kid. Or a dog.
It wasn’t a decision Reacher was entirely happy with. He knew there were risks. He’d heard there were laws against leaving kids in cars. He wasn’t sure about dogs. But the risks Reacher was worried about were different ones, anyway. He wasn’t concerned about overheating or dehydration or the vehicle getting stolen with Rutherford strapped inside it. He was thinking about the odds of a guy like Marty passing by. Spotting Rutherford. Pulling out a burner phone. Summoning the cavalry. Or of Detective Goodyear recognizing his friend’s car and starting in with questions that Reacher wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet. Which was the whole point of his being there. Risk versus reward. The opportunity to test a theory. To join some vital dots. Or to find out he was wrong.
Either way, just as valuable.
Either way, better to hurry.
Officer Rule was still behind the counter when Reacher got to the basement. She looked up from a form she was working on and Reacher swore he saw her eyes brighten when she spotted him. Or perhaps he just hoped they did.
‘Mr Reacher,’ she said. ‘Any luck finding Rusty Rutherford?’
‘False alarm,’ Reacher said. ‘Turns out he’s fine. I could use your help with something else, though.’
Officer Rule folded her arms. ‘Who’s missing this time?’
‘No one. It’s about a recent case. A murder. A journalist who was found cut into pieces. I read about it in the paper. I need to know one thing. When the parts of her body were dumped, were they stuffed into suitcases?’
All traces of good humour disappeared from Officer Rule’s face. ‘That’s an awful case. I can’t discuss it. You know that. Detective Goodyear’s handling it. You can ask him. But he won’t tell you either.’
‘Is he here?’
‘Not right now.’
‘I only have the one question. It’s a yes or no answer. Please?’
‘You know I can’t.’
‘Would you if you could?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Then how about a trade? I scratch your back. You scratch mine.’
Officer Rule paused. ‘What have you got?’
‘There’s a woman who works at the diner opposite Rutherford’s building. Holly. She has a boyfriend—’
‘Who’s an air thief she’s so embarrassed about she won’t even admit he exists to her co-workers?’ Officer Rule shook her head. ‘They know anyway, of course. Makeup can only cover so many bruises. But if you’re trying to tempt me with a domestic violence beef, you can forget it. I’ve been down that road with Holly before. It goes nowhere. She won’t cooperate.’
‘What if you could put an end to the domestic violence without needing Holly’s help? And put a major feather in your cap at the same time.’
‘How could I do that?’
‘How long has the boyfriend been on the scene?’
‘A couple of years, at least.’ Officer Rule frowned. ‘I don’t know exactly when he showed up. I’m just going by when I first saw bruises and started asking questions.’
‘Did you run the guy’s name through the computer?’
‘Of course. He came back clean.’
‘Are you sure it was his real name?’
Officer Rule shrugged.
‘Did you run his prints?’ Reacher said.
‘No. I couldn’t arrest him. Holly wouldn’t press charges and there was no other evidence it was him who hit her.’
‘Has he been arrested for anything else in the last couple of weeks? Since the computers have been locked down?’
‘I don’t know. Without the computers it’s not as easy to keep up with who’s doing what as it normally is. Why?’
‘I think you should check,’ Reacher said. ‘I think you’ll find he was arrested recently. And I think there’s another reason Holly keeps him secret.’
‘Like what?’
‘Could you do some digging and find out if he gave you his real name? And if he has any aliases?’
‘Maybe. If I had a good reason to.’
‘Do you have any friends you could call in other police departments? Ones with working computers who could run whatever names you find?’
‘Maybe. If you tell me why.’
‘The guy who gave me a ride into town yesterday is an insurance agent. He’s here to negotiate the ransom that needs to be paid so that you can get your computers back up. Holly saw me get out of his car. Then she eavesdropped on my conversation with Rutherford at the diner and got the wrong end of the stick. She thought I worked for the insurance company too, which is why she called in those goons to tell me to back off. The question is, why would she do that? Who could benefit from keeping the computers offline?’
Officer Rule frowned. Then blinked. Then her smile returned brighter than ever. ‘Someone who’s wanted in another jurisdiction.’
‘I’d go one further,’ Reacher said. ‘I’d guess someone wanted in another jurisdiction for something serious. Something where the statute of limitations is about to time out.’
‘Which is why he’s been lying low for so long, sponging off poor Holly. He slipped, but at just the right time – for him – because our routine computer checks were impossible. Why is it that assholes have all the luck?’
‘Maybe his luck’s about to change.’
‘I’d happily change it for him. If those phone calls pan out. And if I could find him.’
‘Maybe, acting on a hunch, you could take a look in Holly’s back yard. Any time in the next ninety minutes should do it.’
‘For real?’
Reacher nodded.
‘Maybe I will take a look in her yard. Maybe you’re right about the suitcases, too. But you didn’t hear that from me. It was kept away from the press for fear of copycats. And as a test for anyone claiming to be a witness.’
‘Thank you, Officer Rule. And good luck with your phone calls.’
‘Reacher, wait. I have a question for you. How did you know?’
‘About Holly’s boyfriend?’
‘No. About the suitcases.’
‘It’s part of something I’m working on. Maybe. I’m still joining the dots.’
‘Be careful where you tread. This is an active investigation. You shouldn
’t be anywhere near it. If you know something, you have to tell me.’
‘Don’t worry. I will. When I’m sure.’
Rutherford was asleep when Reacher got back to the car. Like a kid. Or a dog.
‘Get what you need?’ Rutherford said, rubbing his eyes as Reacher slid into the passenger seat.
‘Another piece of the puzzle,’ Reacher said. ‘Maybe.’
‘So what’s next on the list?’
‘Accommodation.’
‘You could stay at my place.’
‘Thanks, but no. And you can’t stay there either. You saw the woman from yesterday watching your building. That shows they know where you live. We need to find somewhere else. Somewhere discreet. Anonymous. Where we can come and go without attracting attention. And in a convenient location. A motel outside town, maybe? Or near the highway?’
Rutherford reached for the button to start the engine then pulled his hand back and took out his phone. ‘I’ll have to Google it. I’ve lived here my whole life so I’ve never stayed in a hotel in town.’ He pressed and clicked and scrolled for a couple of minutes, then lowered the phone. ‘And there’s another problem. No offence, Reacher, but are you really the kind of guy who can come and go without attracting attention? Regardless of how anonymous or discreet a motel is?’
Reacher said nothing.
‘How about this as an alternative?’ Rutherford said. ‘I have the key to a neighbour’s apartment. It’s on the same floor, opposite mine. The guy who owns it is away on a cruise. He hates the heat so he’s away most of the year. Except winter. I keep an eye on the place for him. And water his plants. We could both stay there. My friend wouldn’t mind and no one else would know. In fact, it could help us because if anyone saw us going into the building they’d assume we were heading for my apartment so they wouldn’t search for us but they’d actually be looking in the wrong place. And if anyone tried to pay us a visit the doorman would call my cell. We could watch them watching us.’
‘That might work.’ Reacher paused. ‘Is there a garage at your building?’
‘Yes. In the basement. Access is from the street behind.’
‘Is your car there?’
Rutherford nodded. ‘Each unit gets one space. You can rent more if you want. And there are visitors’ spots if you want to park this car in one.’