Better off Dead (Jack Reacher #26)(10)

“You promise?”

“Of course,” I said. “Would I lie to a woman with a gun in her hand?”





Chapter 6


My fingers weren’t literally crossed, but they might as well have been. I had no idea how to capture Dendoncker. And no intention of finding a way. I had no desire to get tangled up with a crazy person. He hadn’t done anything to me, as far as I knew.

I guess the overall scenario carried a certain amount of intrigue. It sounded like the guy had come up with his own take on Catch-22. You could only get close enough to kill him by being in a condition that prevented you from killing him. It was ingenious. Almost a challenge, in itself. I was sure it could be done, if I thought about it hard enough. Gathered enough intel. Maybe deployed the right kind of specialized equipment.

The truth was, I had no interest in any of those things. But I wasn’t about to tell the woman. I figured that the prospect of capturing her brother’s killer was a lifeline I could use to pull her ashore. Probably the only thing I could use. It would be stupid to cut it before her feet were safely on dry land. Worse than stupid. Criminal. I might not have been serious about capturing some guy I’d never met. But I meant every word about helping her. Suicide has claimed far too many veterans. One would have been too many. So if I could prevent there being one more, that’s what I was going to do.

    I planned to take things slow. Give her time to see that the police were her best option. I was going to deceive her, yes. In the short term. But better deceived than dead.



* * *



—

The woman pushed herself away from the Jeep and stood still for a moment, staring at the ground. She seemed smaller than before. Stooped. Deflated. Finally she looked up at me. She slid the gun into her waistband and held out her hand. “I’m Michaela. Michaela Fenton. And before you say anything—yes. Michael and Michaela. We were twins. Our parents thought it was cute. We didn’t.”

I shrugged. “I’m Reacher.”

Her hand was long and narrow and a little cold. Her fingers curled around mine. She squeezed, and I felt a tiny shiver flicker up my arm.

“Well, Reacher.” She pulled away, glanced to her left and right, and her shoulders seemed to sag even further. “These bodies. Guess we should do something with them. Any ideas?”

That was a good question. If Dendoncker had sent his goons after me I would have left their remains someplace he couldn’t miss them. Like on his front lawn. Or in his bed. So that he was clear about the message I was sending. I don’t like to leave any room for misunderstanding. But Dendoncker hadn’t sent them after me. And if we were really out to capture him, a more subtle approach would be called for. Hiding the bodies would be the right move. Something that kept our cards close to our chests. But we were in the middle of the desert. The sun was high in the sky. Digging graves had not been part of my plans when I woke up that morning and I felt like I’d been flexible enough for one day.

    I said, “One of them must have a phone. We’ll call 911. Let the police handle it.”

“Is that smart? These guys have obviously been…well, they didn’t die of natural causes.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“But won’t the police send in a bunch of detectives? Forensic teams? The whole nine yards?” She paused for a moment. “Look, if I have to pay a price for what I did, I’m fine with that. I’ll take what I deserve. In due course. But I don’t want to wind up in jail while Dendoncker is out here, free. And I don’t want some huge investigation getting in our way and stopping us from catching him.”

My agenda was different. I hoped the police would send in a bunch of guys. As many as possible. I wanted them swarming around all over the place. It’s not smart to try and snatch anyone with the law watching you. I was counting on Fenton to realize that. Just not yet.

“That’s all part of the plan.” I pulled what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “You said Dendoncker is paranoid. If he sees the police sniffing around he’ll panic. Make a mistake. Something we can use.”

“I guess.” She didn’t sound convinced.

I moved across to the guy she’d shot second and searched his pockets. He had a bunch of keys on a ring with a square plastic fob. One was for a vehicle. A Ford. Two looked like house keys. One was a Yale. It was new and shiny. The other was for a mortise lock. It was old and scratched. I figured it was for a separate building. A garage, maybe. Or a storage shed. The guy also had a phone. And a wallet. It had no ID in it. No credit cards. But there was $200 in twenties, which I took. Spoils of war. Only fair.

    The other dead guy’s pockets yielded a similar haul. He had a keyring with the same kind of plastic fob. One of the keys was for a Dodge. Two were Yales. And one was a mortise, which was also old and scratched. He had a wallet with $120 in twenties. And a phone with a cracked case. I pressed the guy’s thumb to its central button and held it there until the screen lit up.

“Where are we, exactly?” I asked Fenton.

She shrugged. “Everyone in town just calls it The Tree. Hold on a sec. I’ll see what I can find.” She pulled out her phone and prodded and swiped at the screen, then held it up for me to see. “Here you go. Map reference.”