The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25)(12)

‘All right. Let’s take a step back. You say these guys tried to kidnap Rutherford. Why would they do that?’

‘How would I know? No one will tell me what he’s done.’

‘What’s your connection to him?’

‘We don’t have a connection.’

‘Did he give you this cash?’ Goodyear gestured to the pile on the table.

‘No.’

‘Did he hire you as a bodyguard?’

‘No.’

‘How did he contact you?’

‘He didn’t.’

‘Where did you first meet?’

‘We never met. Not before today. I saw him walking into an ambush. I helped him escape. It was a spur of the moment thing.’

‘You’re just a Good Samaritan?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Where did Rutherford go before the coffee shop?’

‘The moon. He has a secret love nest there. I was thinking of renting it but the mirrors on the ceiling are too small.’

‘I advise you to take this process seriously, Mr Reacher.’

‘Why? You’re not.’

Goodyear didn’t answer.

‘If you want me to get serious, give me some paper. I’ll write a statement for the FBI.’

‘I’m not giving you any paper.’

‘Then give me a ride to the highway.’

‘I’m a detective. I don’t give rides.’

‘Then unless you’re charging me with holding up an imaginary store, it sounds like our business here is done. Or I could bring in a lawyer.’

‘There’s no need for a lawyer.’ Goodyear paused. ‘All right. You can go. But take my advice. Don’t stick around. Leave town. Right away. And here’s the most important thing. Have nothing more to do with Rusty Rutherford.’





FOUR





Goodyear escorted Reacher back to the booking area, set his cash and toothbrush down on the table, and went to his office. He needed privacy to make a call. The other cop added Reacher’s passport and ATM card like a poker player calling a bet, then followed up with a form and a pen. Reacher signed, stowed his possessions in his pockets, and shook his head when the cop tried to steer him towards the rear exit. He took the public stairs instead and hurried past the bank of framed portraits hanging in the echoey marble foyer. He pushed through the central door in a row of three, skirted a roughly boxed-in temporary structure where an access ramp was being constructed, and turned to head back to the main street. He wasn’t about to hit the road without his coffee. Priorities were priorities. He started across the lawn and as he drew level with the parking lot he heard a voice calling to him. It was Rutherford. He had been waiting by the metal door but now he was scampering forward with one arm raised.

‘Excuse me, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. Please wait.’

Reacher slowed and allowed Rutherford to catch up.

‘My name’s Rusty Rutherford.’ He held out his hand.

‘Jack Reacher.’

‘Mr Reacher, would it be OK if we talk for a moment?’

‘If we talk while we walk. There’s somewhere I need to be.’

‘Please.’ Rutherford was out of breath and he was becoming flustered. ‘Stop. Just for a moment. I can make this quick.’

Reacher stopped.

‘Two things. First, thank you. I guess you saved my ass back there.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘And second, I need to ask you something. Am I in danger? The detective kept talking about a carjacking, but that’s not what happened. I had some time to think in the cell before they questioned me. What happened wasn’t random. It was planned. Those guys were waiting. At first I thought they must have been there for you. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. But then I remembered, one of the men tried to grab me before you intervened. He tried to push me into the car. The detective said I was confused. That I was wrong. But I’m not, am I? I just want to know what’s going on.’

‘I have no idea what’s going on,’ Reacher said. ‘This isn’t my town. I don’t know you. I don’t what you may have done to upset people. I don’t know what you have that’s valuable. But something strange is happening here. That’s for sure.’

‘So what should I do?’

‘That’s your call. My philosophy is hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. So given the circumstances I’d say the smart thing would be to leave town. Let whatever’s going on blow over on its own. Come back when things have settled down.’

‘Leave town?’ Rutherford’s eyes stretched wide. ‘No. I can’t do that.’

‘Why not?’

‘It would make me look guilty.’

‘Of what?’

‘That’s a long story.’

Reacher thought for a moment. It was already late afternoon. He was hungry. He needed to eat, whether there or somewhere else. It would be harder to hitch a ride in the dark. There’d be less to see from the road. And he was intrigued to find out why a mousy little guy in a coffee-stained shirt thought not looking guilty was more important than his own safety. ‘Anywhere around here sell good burgers? We could grab a bite and you could tell me about it.’