The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25)(30)

‘I don’t understand. They think they can make insurance negotiators work faster by roughing them up?’

‘They didn’t want me to work faster,’ Reacher said. ‘They wanted me to back off.’

‘That makes even less sense. Everyone in town wants to get back to normal as fast as possible.’

‘Someone doesn’t. And whatever the reason I think it’s separate from the hot water you’re in. I think we should find out for sure. And I think we should start by getting something to eat.’

‘How will that help?’

‘Always eat when you can. Then you won’t have to when you can’t. And it’s an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. If Holly’s there, anyway. It’s time for her to spill some beans.’

Reacher led the way around the side of the courthouse, and when they reached the parking lot he tossed Marty’s keys to Rutherford. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘You drive.’

Rutherford stopped dead. ‘Wait. Whose car is this? Did you steal it?’

‘It belongs to a guy I met this morning. He loaned it to me. He won’t be needing it for a while.’

‘I don’t know.’ Rutherford stayed still. ‘I have my own car. Why don’t we use it?’

‘This one’s here. Yours isn’t.’

Rutherford touched the handle cautiously like he thought it might electrocute him, then opened the driver’s door and climbed inside. ‘I thought we were going to the diner?’ He scrabbled for the button to move the seat forward. ‘It’s not far. We could walk.’

Reacher shook his head. ‘We can’t leave the car here. We might need it later. And we’re not going directly to the diner. I want you to drive around a little first.’

‘Drive around where?’

‘Anywhere. Show me your old school. Your first girlfriend’s house.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’m hoping someone will follow us.’

Rutherford turned right out of the lot and for a few minutes his driving was awkward and jerky, like a nervous teenager trying out for his permit before he was ready. He spent more time looking in the mirror than through the windshield. Twice he clipped the kerb. But after a while he settled and found his way past the house where he’d been born. Then he drove past his grade school. Then the house where an Irish girl named Siobhan had lived, who as a six-year-old he’d hoped to marry until she dumped him for refusing to give up his dream of becoming a race-car driver. Next was the house his family had moved to when he was ten. His high school. And so he continued, threading his way from one neighbourhood to another, some tidy and prosperous, some shabby and depressed, each with some kind of tie to his past. It was like travelling through a bricks and mortar encyclopedia of his life. Each new landmark seemed to relax or rejuvenate him. Each one made Reacher feel more claustrophobic. The idea of spending an entire life in one place made real and solid before his eyes.

The route they took was perfect for Reacher’s purpose. Too convoluted for anyone to follow without giving themselves away. Too random for anyone to anticipate and press on ahead. The only disappointment was that no one tried. Reacher wasn’t inherently impatient. He wasn’t tired of Rutherford’s company or irritated by his commentary. But neither did he wish to prolong his time in the town, so after another minute he told Rutherford to cut short his nostalgia tour and head for the alley next to the diner.

‘Your building’s the one opposite here?’ Reacher said as they climbed out of the car.

Rutherford nodded.

‘The woman you recognized from yesterday. The one who was watching you. Where was she?’

‘I feel stupid now.’ Rutherford hung back. ‘Maybe I only imagined it was her. Maybe I overreacted to this whole thing. I didn’t sleep very well last night and—’

‘No.’ Reacher turned to face him. ‘When your instinct tells you something’s wrong, then something’s wrong. Always listen to your gut. It’s what will save you from getting shoved into the back of some thug’s car.’

‘The woman was pretending to browse in a store window. Diagonally opposite from the entrance to my building. It’s a drug store, basically, but it sells all kinds of fancy things so it calls itself an apothecary. It’s full of candles and soft toys and home décor stuff. And it changes its window display every week. It’s a jungle now. It was a beach last week. Something to do with giraffes the week before.’

Reacher looked around the corner and identified the store Rutherford had described. No one was near it. He checked the sidewalk in both directions. Neither of the people missing from the gas station was there. None of the people from the aborted ambush were there.

‘She’s gone,’ Reacher said. ‘No one from yesterday is in sight. Now you look. Tell me if there’s anyone else you’ve seen before. Anyone who paid you a little too much attention recently. In the coffee shop. At the grocery store. Walking down the street. Even if you’re not one hundred per cent sure. Even if it’s only a feeling.’

Rutherford peered out of the alley, keeping his body as far back as possible and stretching his neck like a turtle from its shell. Then he retreated and shook his head. ‘No one.’

Reacher took a step towards the entrance to the diner and a synthrock song began to blare from Rutherford’s phone.