The Sentinel (Jack Reacher #25) - Lee Child Page 0,131

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.

The adjustment process wasn’t made any easier by the response he received from the other patrons. Everyone was pleased to see him. He felt like a magnet with the right polarity. The surrounding customers crowded in closer than usual. By the time he reached the counter he had exchanged kind words with a dozen other people. And he had seen how the barista dealt with the two men in front of him when they stepped up to order. She had slammed their cups on the counter. Slopped coffee into the saucers then slid them forward, spilling even more. But she smiled at Rusty when it was his turn, and asked if he wanted his regular.

‘House blend, medium, no room for milk, right?’ she said.

‘Right,’ Rusty said. ‘To go.’

‘It’s on the house,’ she said. ‘See you tomorrow?’

The same time Rusty Rutherford was leaving the coffee shop, Jack Reacher was standing at the side of the street. He was half a block from the town’s only set of traffic lights, which were working perfectly. He watched Rutherford set off, heading east. Not hurrying. Not dawdling. Just drifting along in his own little bubble. Following a familiar route. Comfortable with his surroundings. Heading home. Where he belonged.

A car drew up alongside Reacher and stopped. It was new and shiny and bland. A rental. Driven by the insurance guy Reacher had met the week before. He was still wearing his plain, dark-coloured suit. But he no longer seemed panic-stricken. More like he was on top of the world.

‘Need a ride?’ the guy said.

‘Where are you going?’ Reacher said.

‘Nashville. Meeting at the office. Giving a presentation about how I negotiated the ransom down forty per cent, and still got the town’s systems back up and running. All apart from some archive