She'd already handed the computer over. Adams hadn't been interested in the evidence. He rapped his chewed fingertips on the desk and listened to her explain what she had found. Her husband had been missing for several days. He was obsessed with the murders and then there were the pictures. It all made sense, but one of the pieces of the puzzle looked trimmed down to make the picture work, even Mark could see that.
“And you brought it to us as soon as you found it?” Adams asked.
She hadn't. Her hesitation was enough. She nodded her head and the lie was glaring. Of course she didn't go straight to the police. The headlines in tomorrow's paper would be a dazzling reinvention of what she had just told them. That much was obvious but Mark had a feeling there was more.
“Well it looks on face value that your husband has something to do with these deaths, but as you say yourself the killer is a Reacher.”
Mark flinched as Adams said the words then realised that the secret was now already out. Reacher would be the word on every single paper on every single street corner in a couple of hours.
“You were married to your husband for how long?”
“Two and a half years,” she replied. There was a hint of defensiveness about her.
“Don't you think, in that time, you would have noticed he had special powers?”
Adamantly she shook her head. “No. I heard about someone who was in a relationship with a Reacher for four years and didn't even know!”
Mark felt like she'd slapped him across the face. He couldn't believe she'd said it. Was this some prank? Had the other officers set this up to ridicule him? Were they watching him behind the two-way mirror? He stared aghast.
“And besides we were estranged for most of the marriage.”
Adams nodded. “He didn't display chronic headaches, things around you breaking or moving without being touched? Things like psychic knowledge that you might have just put down to coincidence?”
She shook her head.
“Sir,” Mark said, unable to continue.
The tone of his voice was enough. “You want us to get you a coffee Mrs O'Connor?” Adams asked – he was always the good cop when it came down to pretty girls.
“I'd prefer something stronger,” she said.
“You sit tight, I'll see what we can do.”
Adams closed the door on the interview room and took Mark into the viewing room. Sure enough the mirror was two-way, but there was no audience ready to point and laugh.
“You better have a good reason for dragging me out, kid.” Adams was irritated – as close as he got to getting angry.
“I was with Rachel Aaron for four years, sir. I never knew she was a Reacher.”
The irritation was building, the moment Adams finally lost his temper with Mark was nearly in sight. “Your Reacher was telepathic, she could have been controlling your thoughts. Our killer is telekinetic, she should have been able to pick up on something.”
“I know that, sir. What I mean is I was with Rachel for four years.”
He suddenly understood. He put his hand on Mark's shoulder, part an apology, part a sign of solidarity. With purpose he marched back into the office, calling up his files on his interface.
“Just a couple more questions, Mrs O'Connor, and we'll let you get back to your day.”
Mark watched them from the other side of the mirror.
“Reachers are naturally drawn to each other. They have a magnetism that is pretty much uncontrollable and impossible to resist. If your husband is a Reacher, it's very possible he is with other Reachers we know are in London.”
“Are there a lot of other Reachers?”
“No, which means I just have three pictures to show you. I'd be grateful if you could look at these faces and let me know if you've ever seen them with your husband.”
The first face was Rachel's. When she shook her head Mark audibly exhaled. The second was the blurred picture of John Smith. She took longer, trying hard to identify a face that could be shaped into anybody. Again she shook her head. But the last picture turned her face as sickly yellow as the walls around her. She glanced away from the image of Charlie Smith, swallowed, and shook her head.
“No, none of them.” She was lying.
“You sure, we can go through them again if you want a closer look. I know they're not the greatest pictures.”
“Are they all Reachers?”
“Suspected, but highly likely,” Adams said. “We'll be adding your husband to the list too now.”
“Is it really unusual to not know? I lived with Harvey, should I have seen that he was one of them?”
Adams shook his head. “To be honest with you, Mrs O'Connor, you could be a Reacher and, unless you displayed your powers now, I'd have to perform a lot of tests to get even close to saying for certain you were one.” Adams smiled at her. “The ones who think they're Reachers when they're really not, they're the easy ones to find.”
“Does that happen?”
“There are probably more people who think they have powers than there will ever be genuine cases.”
“What about the other way?”
“What? Reachers who don't know they're Reachers? I've come across one or two in denial, certainly. Nobody wants to admit they're a monster.”
“But they are monsters. I mean killing all those girls.”
“If you would like us to arrange any protection…”
She stood up. “That won't be necessary. I can take care of myself.”
She walked out of the room and as she did Mark thought no you can't.
40
“I could kiss him, Charlie would never have to know,” Rachel said to Roxy as she paced his hospital room.
They didn't have a plan as such. They were a step closer, knowing now what they were looking for, but that didn't make it easier. Rachel had told him she would cover it and Charlie had given her a hypocritical lecture about prostitution – it's okay for me to make out with the marks but not you. It wasn't like she wanted to kiss Jan, but, if she did, she could get into his head, read his secrets, and they would finally be able to leave London.
“That's not a good idea.” The last thing she expected was Roxy echoing Charlie.
“What do you mean 'not a good idea?' We could finish this tonight!”
Roxy sat on top of his bed in just a pair of pyjama bottoms. She redid the dressing on his chest. The wound was healing nicely.
“I've seen the way he looks at you, pet. You don't go slipping your tongue in places it's coveted.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Curtis is attracted to you. Everyone around here has noticed. It's quite the scandal.”
“You're wrong.”
“Darling if there is one thing I know a lot about it's lust. He is attracted to you and that's fire you don't play with, unless you know what to do with it.”
She squared her shoulders a little. “Who says I don't know what to do with it?”
“I do. You're not that girl, if you were I wouldn't be working with you. Rach' love, this is a dangerous game to play. You mess with a man's feelings like that bad things could happen.”
“So what's he going to do?” she said with her hands on her hips, it was starting to become a habit. “Rape me?”
Roxy was silent, but persisted with his cautious glare.
“You do remember what happened with the last guy that tried to do that to me,” she said.
“How could I forget, I nearly put my back out getting rid of his corpse. But sweetheart I'm not talking about just rape. You lead a man on who has feelings for you, you're going to create a problem. Look at that cop of yours.”
She paused in her annoyance. Maybe Mark was a lesson she needed to remember.
“I didn't encourage Mark,” she said.
“You didn't push him away though,” he told her, although he was sympathetic not critical. “I saw him too, how he looked at you and it's not too dissimilar to the doc's longing glances. If he
's in love with you, do you think he'll let you go that easily? Trust me Rachel, kissing him is a bad idea. Especially when we have other options.”
She sighed. “God, things must be dire if you're starting to make sense. Okay, I'll just chat with him. See if I can't persuade him to talk another way.”
As she walked up to Jan's office she tried to work out what other ways there were. How do you ask a man you barely know if he's being blackmailed? She ran several conversations in her head. Coming up with nothing concrete by the time she got to his office. There was a feeling of deja vu as she reached the wide lobby. The same woman as before strode past. Either she didn't remember Rachel, or she didn't care. She stormed by, ignoring everything but the elevator. Rachel watched her go and then noticed, once again, she was left alone outside Jan's office.
She was about to knock but there was a commotion inside. Something smashed to the floor. Instinct overpowered her and she pushed her way inside.
There was only Jan in the room. He sat on the floor. A picture frame lay shattered in bits around him. The pieces of glass were separated by sheets of paper and stationery, and all were dotted with blood. His blood.
“Jan, are you all right?”
He held his hand, obviously embarrassed. “I slipped,” he lied.
“Slipped on something that made you angry enough to trash your desk. Here, let me look.”
He hesitated.
“If you don't I'll take it as a slight on my doctoring skills.”
She inspected the cut. It wasn't too deep. She found a first aid box and set about bandaging it up.
“Sorry, I don't normally do things like this,” he said and picked up the liberated photo of father and son.
“I was adopted, but I still managed to inherit his temper.”
“Hey you take it out on your desk, most people take it out on their loved ones. I think you're doing okay.” She ran her fingers over his hand, picking up on the sparks of feelings he was building up inside. He was angry, that was obvious, but underneath that anger was fear. She focused on the woman, drawing on what she could from several subtle touches. Yes, it was the woman that had done this.
“You can tell me to butt out if it's none of my business but if you need to talk I'm here.”
He blinked at her.
“I mean I take it the woman I just saw was your girlfriend?”
Jan choked at the suggestion. “That woman!”
Rachel held up her hands defensively. “Sorry, usually it's good looking women like her that get nice guys like you all worked up.”
“Yes, well,” he said lifting himself up. “You peel off that exterior and she is rotten underneath. Like everything around here. Everything is all just pretty faces. Nobody cares about what people are like on the inside. And that woman is vile. Not like…” he stopped himself and a flush of colour blossomed in his cheeks.
“Not like?” she pushed.
He turned away. “You,” he said embarrassed.
Roxy was right, a kiss would mess this whole situation up. She had to be careful. “Me? Are you trying to say I'm not pretty?”
When he looked again he mirrored her amusement. It was the right tension breaker and the right sized barrier keeping her safe but friendly.
“Is she a friend?”
“No, now she's an enemy. Forget about her. What can I do for you?”
Rachel had one plan and she crossed everything to hope it would work.
“I came to say that I have to leave. Today. My brother just called. We're heading out in the morning.”
He was devastated. “I thought you had the week.”
“So did I, something has come up. I'm sorry, I know that leaves you short handed.”
He brushed back his hair, looking totally lost. “Where are you going?”
“Probably to the coast, it's hard to say really. We move around a lot.”
“Will you be back?”
“Maybe, one day. Actually that's one of the reasons I came up here. I was wondering, if when I get back, if you'd like to meet up. I could buy you dinner next time. You never know I might have made my fortune and be richer than you by then.”
A sad smile touched his lips. “I think that's almost a certainty. Do you really have to go?”
She reached for his arm and the sadness and desperation inside him overwhelmed her. This was more than just her leaving, this ran deeper. “Jan, what is it? Has something happened?”
He paused, as though debating what to do. “I like you, Rachel.”
“I like you too.”
“I'm not imagining it am I, this thing between us?”
And that was when she realised he wasn't. There was a connection, it maybe wasn't romance for Rachel but it was definitely friendship. She shook her head, feeling her footsteps strike dangerous ground.
“In another world at another time I'm sure we would be very close,” she said cautiously. Close – not lovers, not soul mates. Just close. Like she was with Charlie and John and Roxy. Nothing more than that and the pull inside her telling her otherwise was just because she was never going to see Jan again.
“I feel the same. Like we are the same. All these other doctors here, they don't understand what it's really like out there. But you understand. I feel like I can talk to you, like I can tell you anything.”
“You've only known me a few days,” she said.
“I know, that's the crazy thing. But then I think I'm crazy anyway so maybe that's why. It's just, when I'm around you I feel more myself than I have ever been. Like I'm actually human for a change. I can talk to you, can't I?”
With every ounce of power she had in her body, she tried to convince him he could. She placed her hand on his, pushing the words into his head as she said them. “Of course you can. What is it?”
“I'm in trouble,” he confessed. “That woman. Did you recognise her?”
Rachel shook her head. “No, should I?”
“No I suppose not. She looks different in the flesh than in her pictures. Her husband is Harvey O'Connor.”
Rachel did her best to feign ignorance. “Who?”
“The editor of the Voice.” Jan turned his back on her. “I've done some things. Things that I am not sure you will understand. But my dad, he always said you trust your gut over the rule book.”
“What have you done?” she said, taking a subconscious step back.
“It was for the greater good.”
“Jan, what is it?”
“There have been some reports in the newspapers. A series of crimes.” He reached for his desk to steady himself. He was terrified.
“What kind of crimes?”
“I am the one who has been organising the heists of the medical trucks coming over the border.”
“The medical trucks?”
“We are shipping huge quantities of medication from the north, it passes through S'aven and they never get anything. We don't need half of what they bring us, but it sits in our pharmacies until it's used by date is up, and then we sell it to the likes of St Mary's because we know they'll take anything they can get. It's wrong Rachel, it's so wrong, and I know that it's stealing, but I cannot stand by and let it happen.”
“So you've been stealing your own hospital supplies?”
“St Mary's have had two truck loads,” he assured her. “And I would have done more. I wanted to do so much more. I know I'm only here until they find a suitable replacement, but I still had time.”
“Why can't you continue?”
Jan's fists clenched and unclenched. “Harvey O'Connor found out what I was doing. He threatened to expose me if I didn't use my trucks to transport sapphire across the border. For every one I hijacked he used five to bring illegal drugs into London. Every drug addict in this building has been supplied by me.” This was what bothered him the most. Stealing had justification, but supplying was playing heavily on his conscience.
She reached out for his arm. “And every person who walked out of St Mary's has been sav
ed because of you. Jan, you are not a bad person. You've been doing well, I promise you.”
“Then why won't God just let me do what is right?” If the other doctors and nurses heard him, he'd lose every ounce of authority he ever had over them. But Rachel understood the desperation he felt, she understood what it was like to feel so lost in God's Kingdom.
“Do you want the cliché about God and mysterious ways? They used to tell me in the convent that we must do God's work not Him. He just made the rule book, we have to do the leg work.”
“And you believe that?”
“Not really. I subscribe more to my brother John's theory – life's shit and you can sit and moan about it, or you can just clean it up. Now this wife, where does she come in?”
As he said the words Rachel felt her heart sink. “She's an addict. I paid her the last time she was here and now she says she knows my secret and that she'll go to the press if I don't keep her supplied. I just wanted to help people Rachel, is that so bad?”
“No, of course it isn't.”
“Now I don't know what to do.”
“Do you want my opinion? Quit this job and go to St Mary's. They need you there and you need them, Jan. You're a good doctor, you don't belong here fixing nose jobs and cleaning up addicts before their photo shoots. You could do good there. I know you could. And you could be happy.”
“If I went there you'd know where to find me too,” he murmured.
She smiled despite herself. “Yes, I would.”
“And would you?”
She couldn't take it any further. It wouldn't be fair. “I might. Look I have to go, but I'll try to catch you before I leave London.”
“I'd like that. Thank you Rachel. For everything.”
41
Charlie and John sat in the car outside the hospital. They were blocking the ambulance bay, but the car was expensive enough that no one dared bother them. When one woman thought to come over John gave her a look that sent her cowering in the other direction. Charlie checked his watch. The next part of the mission was out of his control and he hated the thought of Rachel carrying the weight of it alone. Irritatingly his brother seemed much less concerned.
Border Lines (Reachers Book 2) Page 19