The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25)(35)

‘I don’t have anything valuable.’

‘What about information? Something only you know.’

‘I don’t know anything. Nothing important anyway.’

‘Maybe you do. It could be something that seemed trivial when you learned it. Something you came across at work but didn’t realize the significance of at the time. You were the town’s IT manager, right? So you must have had access to all the town’s computers. All its data. Didn’t you ever get bored and search through confidential records? Read people’s emails?’

‘Of course I did. Everyone does that.’

‘What kind of secrets did you find?’

‘Nothing interesting.’

‘Anyone having an affair?’

‘No.’

‘Anyone being pressured to vote a particular way?’

‘Nothing about voting.’

‘Anyone taking bribes?’

‘No.’

‘Any money missing?’

‘Nothing like that.’ Rutherford blipped the gas and swung around a garbage truck.

‘Maybe you picked up some information without realizing. The email from the dead journalist, for example. Could there have been any kind of message hidden in it?’

‘No.’ Rutherford slowed as a minivan pulled out of a driveway. ‘There were no attachments. And her messages were just simple questions about property records. From the 1940s or 50s, I think. Nothing I have any knowledge about, anyway.’

‘What about the regular mail? Did you receive anything unusual? At home, or at the office?’

‘No. I get hardly any mail. Beside bills. And junk.’

‘Have you bought anything recently? An old book? A painting? A piece of furniture? A car? Some vintage clothes? Anything a document or a computer disc could be concealed in?’

‘I got some new Blu-rays. But the ones I haven’t watched yet are still sealed up in their wrappers.’

‘Have there been any other coincidences? Like the journalist contacting you, then winding up dead?’

‘I can’t think of any. My life really isn’t very exciting. All I did was work for the town.’

‘I believe you, Rusty. But if I find out you were moonlighting for NASA or the CIA, I’m going to be pissed.’

‘I wish. But can you really see a bunch of rocket scientists or spies knocking on my door? Asking for my help? I told you about my only side project. The one I was working on with my friend. And it’s worthless. It didn’t work. Nobody wants it. Not even me.’





ELEVEN





Reacher left Rutherford in the car like he was a kid. Or a dog.

It wasn’t a decision Reacher was entirely happy with. He knew there were risks. He’d heard there were laws against leaving kids in cars. He wasn’t sure about dogs. But the risks Reacher was worried about were different ones, anyway. He wasn’t concerned about overheating or dehydration or the vehicle getting stolen with Rutherford strapped inside it. He was thinking about the odds of a guy like Marty passing by. Spotting Rutherford. Pulling out a burner phone. Summoning the cavalry. Or of Detective Goodyear recognizing his friend’s car and starting in with questions that Reacher wasn’t ready to answer. Not yet. Which was the whole point of his being there. Risk versus reward. The opportunity to test a theory. To join some vital dots. Or to find out he was wrong.

Either way, just as valuable.

Either way, better to hurry.

Officer Rule was still behind the counter when Reacher got to the basement. She looked up from a form she was working on and Reacher swore he saw her eyes brighten when she spotted him. Or perhaps he just hoped they did.

‘Mr Reacher,’ she said. ‘Any luck finding Rusty Rutherford?’

‘False alarm,’ Reacher said. ‘Turns out he’s fine. I could use your help with something else, though.’

Officer Rule folded her arms. ‘Who’s missing this time?’

‘No one. It’s about a recent case. A murder. A journalist who was found cut into pieces. I read about it in the paper. I need to know one thing. When the parts of her body were dumped, were they stuffed into suitcases?’

All traces of good humour disappeared from Officer Rule’s face. ‘That’s an awful case. I can’t discuss it. You know that. Detective Goodyear’s handling it. You can ask him. But he won’t tell you either.’

‘Is he here?’

‘Not right now.’

‘I only have the one question. It’s a yes or no answer. Please?’

‘You know I can’t.’

‘Would you if you could?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Then how about a trade? I scratch your back. You scratch mine.’

Officer Rule paused. ‘What have you got?’

‘There’s a woman who works at the diner opposite Rutherford’s building. Holly. She has a boyfriend—’

‘Who’s an air thief she’s so embarrassed about she won’t even admit he exists to her co-workers?’ Officer Rule shook her head. ‘They know anyway, of course. Makeup can only cover so many bruises. But if you’re trying to tempt me with a domestic violence beef, you can forget it. I’ve been down that road with Holly before. It goes nowhere. She won’t cooperate.’