by Diane Capri
Jake pulled off Interstate 44 at a truck stop just on the other side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. He filled the Jeep’s gas tank, scrubbed the bugs off the windshield with a long-handled squeegee, checked the tire pressure, the oil, and topped off the window washer fluid reservoir. All good.
He waved at a couple of friendly long-haul truckers talking in the parking lot where the big rigs rumbled. He was about an hour from Oklahoma City where he’d pick up Interstate 40 west. The weather was clear. He’d left the snow behind and there was no rain anywhere in the forecast. The GPS said the route was free of construction zones and, at the moment anyway, not snarled in traffic.
Sundays were good days to travel, he’d discovered. No rush hour traffic and few trucks on the road. He’d made good time all the way from Cincinnati so far, but he was still twenty hours of drive time from San Diego.
Could he stay awake that much longer?
He’d pulled all-nighters in college plenty of times, and he’d probably do plenty more when he entered law school. He had friends in med school who talked about thirty-six hour rotations, and he was at least as tough as they were. He could do this. He was sure of it.
He could go 248 miles on a full tank of gas. Which would get him well past Oklahoma City. He shouldn’t need to stop again.
He moved to a parking space on the side of the building. He dug a clean pair of jeans and a Hard Rock Casino T-shirt out of his black leather duffel bag and rolled them into a big beach towel. He grabbed his toiletry kit and went inside for a quick shower and shave.
Afterward, he felt like a new man. Tired, but energized, too. He’d been running on caffeine, sugar, and an intense desire not to go to jail since he’d left Cincinnati. All three were powerful fuels. He felt wired and ready for anything, but he would have preferred to have a traveling companion at this point. Someone to keep him from falling asleep at the wheel, or maybe even drive while he slept.
Back in the parking lot, he called his mother again. He’d tried calling her several times earlier in the day, but he kept getting her voicemail on both her home phone and her cell phone. She’d probably gone to church this morning, as she usually did, and left her cell phone in the car during church. She hated it when cell phones disrupted the worship service.
He left another message telling her where he was and asking her to return his call after church. He signed off with, “Love you, mom,” as he always did.
At the fast food joint inside the truck stop, he refilled his thermos with hot, black coffee, and bought a big bag of road food. He added a six-pack of water and a Powerball lotto ticket to his bill. He was feeling lucky and the jackpot was a billion dollars.
“What would you do with a billion dollars?”
He grinned, thinking about what he might do with the money as he turned toward the voice. Immediately, he felt underdressed.
A tiny Asian woman, cute as anything, stood behind him in the line. She looked about eighteen. No more than five feet. No more than a hundred pounds. Maybe less. She was dressed in jeans, boots, and a white T-shirt under a brown leather flight jacket. Her hair was drawn back into a low ponytail. A pair of aviator Ray-Bans sat atop her head. Gold earrings were secured to her tiny earlobes.
Four guys wearing army fatigues stood behind her. Clean-shaven. Military haircuts. Perfect posture and confidence. Last names on the tape above their breast pockets. All four seemed interested in the Asian woman, which was understandable. In a word, she was hot. Too hot for all of them, Jake included.
“What would I do with a billion dollars? I’d buy you dinner for starters,” Jake replied, emboldened by the ancient alpha male’s need to best his competition. The four army guys widened their grins and nodded like they were right there, next in line when she shot him down.
She seemed to size up the situation in a quick glance. Friendly male competition, Jake’s relative inexperience, and decided to have a little fun.
With a pointed look at the tables off to the left side of the store, she said, “How about we start with coffee and conversation and we’ll see where it goes?”
“Sure.” Jake swallowed hard. His cheeks flushed. He glanced at the army guys and joked, “Sorry, fellas. Better luck next time.”
They nodded, clapped him on the arm. One said, “Way to go, buddy.”
Jake paid for the coffee and carried it to her table. He offered her the coffee and took the seat across from her. He said, “Thanks for doing that. It was nice of you. Made my day.”
“You ever think about joining the army yourself? You’re every bit as good as those guys, I’d bet,” she said.
“I did think about it a few times, actually. I was in Junior R.O.T.C. in high school and I thought I wanted to go to West Point. Make a whole career out of it, you know?”
“What happened?”
He took a deep breath. “My parents weren’t cool with it. They thought I might get shot and maimed or killed or something.”
“That’s an understandable fear that parents have, don’t you think?”
“Yeah. I’m an only child and they were worried. I thought they were going to consent, mostly because West Point would have been free tuition. They’re teachers. They didn’t have a lot of money to pay for school.”
“Sounds like a reasonable solution. West Point’s a great school.”
“Then Dartmouth accepted me. I played football in high school and I was good enough for college.” He shrugged. “I was a kid. I loved playing football. My parents were over the moon about Dartmouth because my dad went there. So we made it work.”
“I see,” she said.
He took another deep breath, blew it out on his coffee, and took a gulp. Then he grinned. “So that’s the reason I’m not standing over there with those guys in fatigues. Kinda cool that you chose me anyway.”
She smiled at him and changed the subject. “Out of curiosity, what would you really do with a billion dollars?”
He shrugged. “I don’t honestly know. That’s more money than I expect to see in my lifetime. But help my mom first, for sure. Then probably travel the world, I guess. Meet new people. Stay a while in other places and soak up the culture.”
“Is that what you’re doing now? Traveling the country?”
“Yeah, sort of. I’m headed to California. San Diego. Looking for a guy.” He paused to drink the coffee. “What about you? You don’t look like you live here in Oklahoma.”
“No? Lots of good farms in Oklahoma still. I’m a farm girl at heart. I come from a long line of farmers,” she replied with a smile. “But you’re right. I don’t live here. I’m on my way to San Diego, too, as it happens.”
He widened his eyes. “Why?”
“Same reason you are, Jake,” she said evenly.
“How’d you know my name?”
She pulled out her badge wallet and showed it to him. “FBI Special Agent Kim Otto.”
“So you were waiting for me? How’d you know I’d come here?” He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Was the FBI chasing him down because of that business in Cincinnati? Surely not. But what else could it possibly be?
“I was in Laconia for the past couple of days. I met your mother. And Old Man Reacher. That’s how I knew you were driving toward San Diego,” she explained like she was talking him off the ceiling or something. “We pinged your cell phone and your GPS to find your exact location. You’d marked this place on your GPS the last time you stopped for gas, probably because you could get a shower and takeout food and quickly get back on the road, am I right?”
“Okay. Makes sense, even if it’s a bit unnerving to think about you watching me like that,” Jake said, nodding. “But why go to all that trouble? You could have just called me on the phone. Asked to meet up.”
“How about if I tell you all about it in the Jeep when we get on the road? Save some time. We’ve got a long way to drive,” she replied.
“You want to ride with me? All the way to San Diego?” he asked, not sure what to make of the request. Woul
d it be better or worse to have an FBI agent in the car with him for the next two days?
Which was when he noticed that she had travel bags with her. She stood, waiting. He collected his road food. “Okay. Well, my Jeep’s parked in the side lot.”
“Yeah. I know,” she replied with a smile. “Lead the way.”
She followed him outside and stowed her bags in the back of the Jeep. They settled into the cabin with fresh coffee and his foot-long sandwich and headed toward the I-44 West entrance ramp.
A couple of miles later, Jake had finished his food while thinking about the situation and he wanted some answers. He glanced across to her. She was staring out the windows like she was looking for something in particular. She was wearing aviator style sunglasses, making it impossible to see her eyes.
He cleared his throat to get her attention. “What did you mean when you said you were going to San Diego for the same reason I am?”
“You want to find Jack Reacher and so do I. Pretty simple.”
He took a minute to think that through. “My mother tell you that?”
“No. Old Man Reacher did.”
“So you know why I want to find him, then?”
“Because you think he’s your uncle,” she said.
He frowned and kept his eyes on the road. The conversation was becoming more surreal by the moment. It was strange to talk about the situation openly when his parents had kept it secret all these years. He wasn’t sure how he felt about any of it yet.
“Did you know Joe Reacher?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. I don’t know Jack, either. But I know a lot about them both.”
“Why? Is this a manhunt? Are they bank robbers or something?” His frown deepened and his voice was laced with concern.
She was quiet for a long time and he thought she might not answer. But she finally did. What she said went off on a tangent.
“Both Joe and Jack Reacher were army officers once. West Point grads. Did you know that?”
Jake shook his head. “I don’t know anything about them except that Joe was my biological father and he was killed in the line of duty.”
“They were both honorably discharged from the army. Joe took a job with the Treasury Department. He was killed while investigating a case,” she paused for a breath. “Joe’s brother, Jack Reacher, was a military policeman. He served for thirteen years, most of them honorably according to the records.”
“Sounds like things went sideways somewhere along the line,” Jake replied slowly, struggling to put the pieces together to form a picture that made sense.
She said, “Maybe. Jack left the army early at the request of his bosses and under a cloud. If he hadn’t agreed to go voluntarily, he might have ended up in prison.”
Jake grimaced. “Yeah, I know how that works.”
She said nothing, but he could read between the lines. She knew more about him than she was telling. He didn’t really want to hear her repeat it all. Hell, he tried to forget his wild child days as much as possible.
“Why are you looking for Jack Reacher now?” He yawned. Man, he was tired. He’d been sleepy before he ate that big sandwich and now he really wanted a nap. On the other side of Oklahoma City, he might stop for a while.
“Simple background check. He’s being considered for a special classified assignment. We need to know if he’s still fit for the job,” she replied.
“Still? What do you mean?” He widened his eyes and glanced across the console to look at her again.
“It’s been fifteen years since he left the army. We don’t know where he is.”
Incredulously, he asked, “What? Didn’t you tell me you could find anyone? That’s how you knew where to find me?”
“Unfortunately, he’s not driving around in a tech-equipped vehicle like you are. He’s not living a normal life, either. He’s been off the grid all these years.” She cleared her throat.
Jake raised his eyebrows and stared at her. “Off the grid? You mean like a prepper survivalist or something?”
“He could be. We just don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
She cocked her head. “No IRS files, nothing from the banks, no debts or loans, no titles to houses or cars or boats or trailers, no arrest record, no convictions major or minor, no rental agreements on file anywhere, no land line or cell phone, ever, no ISP data and he’s not in prison. He’s not in witness protection or undercover for any of the other government agencies. He’s not a hospital or institutional inpatient anywhere.”
“Could he be living outside the country? An expat someplace?” Jake asked.
She shook her head. “We don’t think so. He has a bank account and an ATM card. Both get used now and then from inside the U.S.”
He sped up and moved out to pass a slow moving panel van traveling in the right lane. “So why do you think he’s in San Diego? You can’t find anything on the guy. You’ve probably looked other places before now and haven’t found him.”
She stretched her shoulders and rotated her neck, as if she was cramped up or something. “Tell you the truth, Jake, I don’t know whether he’s in San Diego or not. But I’m hoping we can draw him out. Once he knows you exist and you’re in town, maybe he’ll find us.”
He looked at her again. “How likely is that?”
She sighed. “Not very. But you’re the best lead I have right now. You’re the only bet I can make.”
They traveled another few miles in silence before Jake asked another question. “So you really do think that Joe Reacher was my biological father, then?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how skeptical he remained. When Jake was ten, his mother had the DNA tests done. But they’d had no samples from Joe Reacher to match. All the results really proved was that David Reacher was not his biological father. Which was bad enough, from Jake’s perspective and from Dad’s, too.
But Joe Reacher’s paternity had never been conclusively proved. He’d trusted his mother’s word. A woman who had lied to him about his father for his entire life. And how reliable was that?
“Do we think Joe was your biological father? Actually, we do. But we’re working on DNA to prove it,” she replied.
He raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes. “Why do you think Joe Reacher was my sperm donor?”
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose. The sound was like something a delicate puppy might make. “Because of the way your mother reacted when I asked her about your father. And because you look exactly like both of the Reacher brothers. Jack and Joe.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Sunday, February 27
6:30 p.m.
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Kim had taken her turn behind the wheel an hour east of Amarillo. They had picked up Interstate 40 in Oklahoma City and they’d stopped once for gas and to change drivers. Soon after, Jake had reclined his seat and gone to sleep.
He slept deeply, like an exhausted six-year-old. He’d been driving for way too many hours. His eyes were bloodshot and his eyelids drooped closed several times before she told him to pull over and let her drive for a while. He hadn’t argued.
Before he dropped into oblivion, Jake had asked, “What will happen to Jack Reacher once you find him?”
She’d shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t know anything about the job he’s being considered for, or whether he’ll be willing or able to do it.”
“So there’s really a job? You’re not just saying that? You’re not planning to arrest him? Send him to prison?” Jake had asked with a wide yawn. He’d closed his eyes and a few seconds later, she’d heard him snoring.
Which meant she hadn’t been required to answer the question.
The interstate along this stretch was straight, flat, and hypnotic. Traffic had been steady but moving along well in both directions. With Jake sleeping like every metaphor for an innate object she could think of, she took the chance to call Gaspar using one of the ne
w burners she’d bought back at the Tulsa truck stop where she’d waited to intercept Jake.
“I’ve been listening,” Gaspar said when he answered. “And if I can, others can.”
“Right,” she replied, brief and cryptic. No reason to add to the sound track and not much she could do about hackers while driving down the expressway at eighty miles an hour. The Boss monitored everything she did or said, all the time, unless she actively avoided him, which wasn’t always successful. And it was impossible to avoid anyone with the right equipment hacking into the Jeep’s systems or Jake’s phone.
All of which meant it was safe to assume she was the subject of constant surveillance. She limited her conversations accordingly.
The burners she used and discarded provided a slim chance that phone conversations could stay private for a few brief minutes. Reasonably competent hackers could hear anything she said inside the Jeep, but couldn’t hear what was said by the people she called until they isolated the burner’s frequency and tapped into the call. She kept the conversations brief to minimize the risks.
Gaspar said, “There’s a navy blue Escalade, couple years old, on your ass. Been following you for the past ten miles. It’s hanging back, moving with the traffic, trying to avoid detection. But it’s there.”
She checked the rearview. The land was flat here, which made driving easier but reduced her visibility range behind the Jeep. She could see two or three vehicles behind her in the right lane. In the left lane, a tractor-trailer blocked her view. She didn’t see a navy Escalade.
“Who is it?”
“Dunno. Vehicle’s stolen. Still checking the occupants. Not FBI. Not cops of any kind, if I had to guess.”
“Why do you say that?”
“A single big thug in the front seat, for one thing,” he replied. “Cops travel in pairs.”
She nodded. “Right.”
“He’s not talking much. But don’t get your hopes up. It’s probably not Reacher coming for the kid.”
“How do you know?”
“Guy’s big enough and ugly enough. But someone is feeding him directions through the SUV’s speaker system. Reacher usually works alone,” Gaspar said.