Better off Dead (Jack Reacher #26)(5)

    How the woman had hit that exact spot was a mystery. Maybe the sun had blinded her. Maybe an animal had run out, or a bird had swooped down. It was unlikely that another vehicle had been involved. Maybe she was depressed and had done it on purpose. But whatever had caused her accident, that was a problem for another time.

The woman was slumped over the steering wheel. Her left arm was stretched forward across the flattened windshield. Her hand was open like she was reaching out to the tree for help. Her right arm was folded into her abdomen. She was facing down, into the footwell. She was completely inert. There was no sign of bleeding. No sign of any other injuries, which was good. But there was also no sound of breathing. I figured I should check for a pulse or some other indication she was alive so I stepped in close to the side of the Jeep. I reached for her neck, slowly and gently. I brushed her hair aside and homed in on her carotid. Then she sat up. Fast. She twisted around to face me. Used her left hand to bat my arm away. And her right to point a pistol at my gut.

    She waited a beat, presumably to make sure I wasn’t about to freak out. She wanted my full attention. That was clear. Then she said, “Move back. One step only.” Her voice was firm but calm, with no hint of panic or doubt.

I moved back. One step. I made it a large one. And I realized why she’d been looking down through the steering wheel at the floor of the vehicle. There was a piece of mirror wedged between the gas pedal and the transmission tunnel. She must have cut it to the right size and positioned it to give an early warning of anyone who approached her.

“Where’s your buddy?” She glanced left and right.

“There’s no one else,” I said. “Just me.”

Her eyes darted across to the rearview mirror. It was angled so she could spot anyone sneaking up behind her. “They only sent one guy? Really?”

She sounded half offended, half disappointed. I was starting to like her.

“No one sent me.”

“Don’t lie.” She jabbed the gun forward for emphasis. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. One of you or a whole squad? You get the same deal. Tell me where Michael is. Tell me now. And tell me the truth, or I’ll shoot you in the stomach and leave you here to die.”

“I would love to tell you.” I held my hands up, palms out. “But there’s a problem. I can’t. I don’t know who Michael is.”

“Don’t…” She paused and glanced around again. “Wait. Where’s your car?”

    “I don’t have a car.”

“Don’t get smart. Your Jeep, then. Your motorcycle. Whatever mode of transport you used to get here.”

“I walked here.”

“Bullshit.”

“Did you hear an engine just now? Any kind of mechanical sound?”

“OK,” she said after a long moment. “You walked. From where? And why?”

“Slow down.” I tried to make my voice sound friendly and unthreatening. “Let’s think this through. I could recount my day to you, minute by minute. In other circumstances I’d be happy to. But right now, are my travel arrangements that important? Maybe a better question would be: Am I the person you were waiting for? The person with information about Michael?”

She didn’t answer.

“Because if I’m not, and the real guy shows up with me still here, your whole crashed car routine is never going to fly.”

She still didn’t respond.

“Is there some law that says only people you want to ambush can use this road? Is it off-limits to everyone else?”

I saw her glance at her watch.

“Look at me. I’m on my own. I’m on foot. I’m unarmed. Is that what you were expecting? Does it make sense to you?”

Her head moved an inch to the left and her eyes narrowed a fraction. A moment later I caught it, too. There was a sound. In the distance. A vehicle engine. Rough. Ragged. And moving closer.

“Decision time,” I said.

She stayed silent. The engine note grew louder.

    “Think about Michael,” I said. “I don’t know where he is. But if whoever’s coming does, and you keep me here, you’ll lose your chance. You’ll never find out.”

She didn’t speak. The engine note grew louder still. Then she gestured toward the other side of the road. “Over there. Quick. Ten yards up there’s a ditch. At an angle. Like a streambed. It’s dried out. Get in it. Keep your head down. Stay still. Don’t make a sound. Don’t alert them. Don’t do anything to screw this up. Because if you do…”

“Don’t worry.” I was already moving. “I get the picture.”





Chapter 3


The ditch was right where she said it would be. I found it, no problem. I got there before the approaching vehicle was in sight. The streambed was dry. I figured it could provide adequate cover. But the bigger issue was whether to hide at all. Or to leave.

I looked over at the Jeep. The woman was back in position, slumped across the steering wheel. Her head was turned away from me. I was out of range of her mirror. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to see me. But even if she did spot me I doubted she would risk taking a shot. She wouldn’t want to alert whoever was coming for her.