The Sentinel

NINE

Reacher knew that cell phones could display maps. He’d seen it done. The level of detail was fine for basic navigation, he figured. He’d heard you could factor in real-time traffic information and weather updates, which could be useful if you were driving somewhere. Or hiking. He knew you could call up satellite images, too, if you wanted to see roofs or the tops of trees. But give him the choice and Reacher would always prefer a paper map. The kind he’d trained with at West Point. Large enough and granular enough to reveal the underlying terrain. A critical factor for a soldier. The difference between victory and annihilation. Or between setting a trap and walking into one.

A critical factor for a soldier. Sometimes just as important for a civilian.

Reacher could picture it so clearly. The diner. The apartment building. The coffee shop. A tight triangle. Rutherford’s entire area of operations, aside from his brief excursion to the police station. He’d made it so easy for the people who wanted to take him. If Rutherford strayed outside again, Reacher couldn’t imagine any way he wouldn’t be spotted immediately. And there’d be no one to save him this time.

If Rutherford was holed up in his apartment, he might be OK. For a while, at least. Snatching someone off the street is one thing. By its nature a fluid process. Quick. Easy to disguise. Easy to abort if it goes wrong. Extracting someone from inside a building is a different ball game. Particularly if you want to do it covertly. You can’t just smash down the door to someone’s apartment. Too noisy. Someone would hear. A neighbour, or someone working in the building. So some kind of ruse is required. That involves additional planning. Greater resources. Maybe props and costumes. And even if you gain entry, there’s still the problem of getting the target to the street.

If Rutherford was holed up in his apartment.

Reacher thanked Officer Rule then took the stairs from the courthouse basement three at a time and almost knocked over a guy who was hurrying in through the doors. He was slightly built, wearing chinos and a polo shirt. With a logo. To show he meant business.

Rusty Rutherford himself. Not holed up. Not kidnapped. Not yet.

Reacher grabbed Rutherford by the shoulders, spun him around, and bundled him back outside.

‘Let go!’ Rutherford tried to squirm free. ‘What the … what are you doing, Reacher?’

‘It would be better to stay away from the police for a while.’ Reacher released him. ‘I just told them you’re in trouble again. Maybe missing. They might have questions.’

‘I almost was in trouble.’ Rutherford straightened his shirt.

‘What happened?’

‘I came downstairs in my building this morning. Heading for the coffee shop. I got as far as the door but one of my neighbours was on his way in. He’s an older gentleman so I hung back to let him get past and I saw a face I recognized. Across the street. The woman who was driving the car those assholes tried to push me into yesterday.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I freaked out. I totally panicked. I ran to the doorman and screamed at him to get me a cab to the airport. Then I went upstairs to grab some things but I couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t decide what to pack. I knew I had my wallet with my ID and my credit cards so I figured I’d just get away – to anywhere – and buy whatever I needed when I got there. So I went back down and jumped into the cab when it finally came. It took an eternity. Or it felt like it, anyway.’

‘So why are you here now?’

‘I got halfway to Nashville and then I thought, what am I doing? I don’t know how to be on the run. I don’t want to be on the run. I want to stay here. Clear my name. And then I thought about you.’

‘What about me?’

‘You were in jail. For saving my ass. A second time. I couldn’t leave you behind bars so I figured bailing you out was the least I could do.’

‘I appreciate the sentiment, Rusty, but the fight outside the diner wasn’t about you.’

‘Yes it was. Those guys were there to grab me. Holly – the waitress – was sure about that. Which is why she helped me out through the back door into the alley.’

Reacher shook his head. ‘Those idiots were there for me. They thought I was working for the insurance guy who’s negotiating to get the town’s computers back up and running. Holly set it up. Remember the questions she was asking? About who I arrived in town with?’

‘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.

‘I need to take this.’ Rutherford checked the number on the screen. ‘It’s my lawyer.’

He moved ten feet away and talked on the phone for less than a minute.

‘Assholes!’ he said when he returned. ‘Remember I told you I had subpoenaed my work laptop? Obviously my boss knows he’s screwed if I get my hands on it because the town is now saying I can have it, sure. But not for eight weeks. And then only if I pay fourteen thousand dollars for them to redact confidential information now that I’m no longer a town employee.’

‘Can they do that?’ Reacher said.

‘My lawyer says they can. She says they’ve got me over a barrel.’

‘Is there any other way to get the laptop? Any legal-eagle tricks she can pull?’

‘Short of breaking in and taking it, no.’

‘So what are you going to do?’

‘Agree, I guess. I need that computer. I’ve got the money. I can wait. And they say revenge is a dish best served cold, right?’

The retired couple had left by the time Reacher and Rutherford stepped into the diner and no other customers were in the place. They took the same booth as the previous night, with the turquoise Chevy and the view of both doors, and a couple of minutes later a waitress emerged from the kitchen carrying two mugs and a pot of coffee. It was the woman who’d helped Reacher with the online telephone directory.

‘You found him, then,’ she said, and nodded at Rutherford as she poured Reacher’s drink.

‘I did,’ Reacher said. ‘Now I’m looking for someone else.’

‘Who is it this time?’

‘Holly. Your co-worker. Does she have a shift today?’

‘This is her shift.’ The waitress scowled. ‘It’s supposed to be, anyway. But she’s not here. She called in sick. Again. Which is why I’m here covering for her. Again. Instead of going shopping in Nashville with my daughter like I planned.’

‘Is Holly out sick often?’

‘She’s off work often. And she says she’s sick.’

‘But you don’t believe her?’

‘I’m not saying that. I guess it depends on your definition of sick. I do believe she’s often not in a position to work. Poor girl. Or stupid girl. Take your pick.’

‘You think there’s something else going on? The bottle, maybe?’

‘Not the bottle. Try the fist.’

‘She has an abusive husband? Or boyfriend?’

‘Not according to her. She says she’s single, and I’m not calling her a liar. But the makeup around her eyes? That surely is. She must put it on with a trowel, some days. And the long-sleeved shirts she wears when it’s a hundred degrees plus? They don’t back her position. No, sir. She’s either hooked up with some kind of an asshole or she’s the clumsiest person this side of a circus clown. Now, what can I get for you?’

Reacher ordered a double stack of pancakes with extra bacon, then added two slices of apple pie while Rutherford struggled to choose between waffles and crepes. He finally came down in favour of waffles and as the waitress scribbled on her pad Reacher asked if the place had any newspapers. He saw Rutherford smirk. ‘What?’ he said when the waitress was out of earshot. ‘Don’t you like to keep up with the news?’

‘I do like the news.’ Rutherford pulled out his phone. ‘That’s the point. News. Not history.’

The waitress sauntered back and dropped a pile of local and national papers on the table.

‘She should put them all in the recycling,’ Rutherford said. ‘There’s nothing in any of these you couldn’t already have read on here.’ He held up his phone. ‘In much more detail. Oh. Wait.’ He picked up a local paper from the top of the heap. ‘I’d missed that detail. Weird.’

‘What is?’

‘A journalist got murdered. I’d seen it in the headlines online but I hadn’t noticed her name. It’s there, look.’ He put the paper down and pointed to the story just above the fold. ‘It jumped out because she had contacted me a couple of times. It feels odd when the victim is someone you knew of. Even if you didn’t know them, exactly.’ He read more of the story and his face lost all its colour. ‘Oh, God. This is gross. It says she was kidnapped and kept alive, probably for days. And she was tortured. Then her body was cut up and dumped in three different places.’

‘Let me see.’ Reacher took the paper and read the story.

Rutherford picked up his phone, hit some keys, and dragged his finger up and down the screen. ‘I can’t find any more about it. There’s a picture, but only of her before she disappeared.’

‘You said she contacted you.’ Reacher put the paper down. ‘About what?’

Rutherford shrugged. ‘The first time was a few weeks ago. She sent me an email. She was researching a story. Something to do with property records, I think. It was around the time the warehouse with all the town’s archives in it burned down. All the records and documents going back to the Civil War, everything destroyed. She wanted to know if there were any digital records, so I guess she came to me because I was the IT manager.’

‘Could you help her?’

‘I remember thinking she might be in luck. The town had just finished a huge project to digitize all its public documents and put them online. It was almost ready to go live but I gave her the email address for the woman running the project anyway in case she could get an early peek. Then a couple of days after the ransomware attack she left me a voicemail message. She wanted to know if there was some other way to view the records now the database was locked. Obviously there wasn’t and I had bigger problems on my hands so I didn’t follow up.’

The waitress delivered their food but Reacher didn’t start to eat right away. He was thinking. A woman who had been in contact with Rutherford had been kidnapped and murdered. A group had tried to kidnap Rutherford. A group with a track record of torture and dismemberment and dumping bodies in suitcases, if the guy Marty was to be believed. Reacher was liking the situation less and less.

‘Rusty, I appreciate you coming back to bail me out this morning,’ he said, when they had both finished eating. ‘Even though I’d already gotten out. I was on my way out of town when some guys tried to ambush me. Four of the guys from yesterday. I think they’re the same people who killed the journalist. You need to take this seriously. Very seriously, or the next story in the paper will be about parts of your body being found in a bunch of different places. You should leave town. Right now. Don’t even go back to your apartment.’

‘Leave town? And go where? And come back when? And do what in the meantime?’ Rutherford wiped his face with his napkin. ‘If it’s true that the people who were after me killed the journalist, that’s pretty heavy action for a town this size. They must be from somewhere else. And if they can reach me here, they can reach me anywhere. What if I leave and wind up someplace I don’t know my way around, where it’s easier for them to catch me? So no. I’m going to stay. And I’m going to fight.’

‘Do you know how to fight?’ Reacher said.

‘No. But you do. You’ve done OK against these guys so far.’

‘Rusty, I’ve been happy to help. But I’m not going to be here for ever.’

‘Don’t go just yet. Please. Stay a while. I’ll pay you. I have savings.’

‘I don’t need money. And I wouldn’t take your savings anyway.’

‘OK then. Forget money. I’ll pay by teaching you about computers. Help you get into the twenty-first century. Or the twentieth, anyway. Or at least to use a cell phone.’

Rutherford had a point about there being no guarantee of his safety if he ran. And it wasn’t safe for him to stay, either. Not on his own. Not with federal agents who walked away from their promises to protect him. And not with people like Marty on the lookout, under orders to report his whereabouts.

‘What if I stay?’ Reacher said. ‘For a day or two. And in return, you don’t teach me anything about computers?’

‘It’s a deal.’ Rutherford held out his hand. ‘What do we do now? Stay out of sight? Hope they don’t try again?’

‘No,’ Reacher said. ‘We go on the offensive. Tell me, what time does the doorman in your building go off shift?’

‘He said he pulled a double today. He’ll be there till ten tonight.’

‘Good. There are some preparations we need to make. But first there’s a visit I want to pay. Grab your phone. Call up the telephone directory. There’s an address I need you to find.’