The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25)(104)

‘Doesn’t matter if you believe me or not,’ Reacher said. ‘The FBI will explain it to you. I wasn’t lying when I told you the agents are on their way. You can stay and help them round up the other groups. Which would be doing your brothers a favour, honestly. It would stop anyone with a double-digit IQ being able to exploit them. Or if you don’t like that idea we can go to your house.’ Reacher pulled a cigarette lighter out of his pocket. ‘We can pick up some gas on the way.’

Goodyear sank back down on to the floor. ‘No. I’ll stay.’

‘Take out your cuffs,’ Reacher said.

Goodyear pulled them from a leather pouch on his belt.

‘Secure yourself to a filing cabinet. To the drawer handle.’

Goodyear did what he was told.

‘OK,’ Reacher said. ‘Two last things before I go.’ First he took the painting and smashed it over Goodyear’s head, leaving the frame hanging like a necklace. Then Reacher punched Goodyear in the face. Normally he would have used his left hand. Maybe dialled back the power a little too. But making an exception seemed the right thing to do.

Reacher left Klostermann’s burner phone on his desk. There were four numbers in its call log. Goodyear’s, which was accounted for. Marty’s, which was a dead end. Literally. But that still left two for the FBI to track down. Two more crooked cops, maybe. Or two more suitcase carriers. Whatever they turned out to be, they needed to be stopped.

He checked that Goodyear was breathing. Then made his way out of the house and across to the red Chevy. He figured he would drive to the truck stop. Leave the car in a parking lot. Walk over to the gas station. To the truck side. And go wherever the first driver willing to take him was heading.

He pulled up to the gate. Waited for it to slide to the side. Drove through. And stopped dead. A car had pulled in front of him. From out of nowhere, it seemed. Certainly not the road ahead. It must have been up on the grass verge, parallel to the wall.

Reacher waited for the car to move. It was small. A late model Honda Civic. A woman was driving. She was wearing plain clothes. Which was why it took Reacher a moment to recognize her. It was Officer Rule.

Rule recognized Reacher at the same moment. She climbed out of the Honda and walked around to Reacher’s door. He rolled down his window.

‘Reacher?’ Rule said. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Leaving,’ Reacher said. ‘In fact, I was never here. You?’

Rule was silent for a moment, as if she was trying to decide whether to answer. ‘I followed someone here.’

‘Detective Goodyear?’

Rule nodded.

‘Why?’ Reacher said.

‘I figured something weird was going on. Something wrong.’

‘There was. How did you know?’

Rule shrugged. ‘Call it a cop’s instinct. I saw Goodyear take a call on a cell phone, then hurry into his office. Only it wasn’t his regular phone. We’ve all had to use our own while the department phones have been down, and I know he has an iPhone. The latest kind. But several times now he’s used this other one. It’s old. And he’s often seemed kind of furtive. I’ve always ignored it before. Then I thought, this is it. I have to know what his deal is.’

‘This was at the courthouse, where he took the call?’

‘Right.’

‘So why aren’t you in uniform? And how come you’re using your personal vehicle?’

‘I was at the courthouse to hand in my notice. I quit. I’m sick of the place. I mean, think about it. You’re a stranger. Drifting through town. And you cared more about stopping crime here than our detective. You’ve already helped me more than anyone in the department ever did. I’ve had enough. It’s time for a fresh start somewhere else.’

‘Your letter. Will anyone have read it yet?’

‘I doubt it. Why?’

‘You might want to get it back.’

‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘The town has a vacancy for a new detective.’

‘We only have one detective position. And it’s taken.’

‘Not any more. Goodyear just resigned.’

‘Are you serious? Why?’

‘Call it a personal crisis. So he’ll have to be replaced. They could bring someone in from the outside, I guess. But someone local would be better. Someone who cares about the town. Who has a string of recent arrests to her name. You know anyone like that?’

Rule thought for a moment. ‘Time for me to get back to the courthouse. Make that letter disappear.’ She got halfway around the hood of her car then turned back to Reacher. ‘What about you? Where are you going?’

‘I have no particular place in mind.’

‘How about my place? You know where it is. It’s Friday evening. We could get some carry out. I have some beer. Some wine.’

‘What about your neighbours? They would be bound to see me.’

‘Screw them. What are they going to do? Mess with the town’s soon-to-be only detective?’





THIRTY





Rusty Rutherford emerged from his apartment on Monday morning, exactly two weeks after he got fired.

He wasn’t normally the type of guy who dawdled in his local coffee shop. He went to the same one every day. Purely for the caffeine. He didn’t go in search of conversation. He wasn’t interested in finding new company. He stood quietly in line. Placed his order. Collected his drink as soon as it was ready. And left. Even after the week he spent with Jack Reacher it proved a difficult habit to break.