The Midnight Line (Jack Reacher, #22)

by Lee Child

I want to die peacefully in my sleep like Grandpa. Not screaming in terror like his passengers.

The café was a new-age place, with all kinds of healing juices, and sandwiches Reacher figured had been put together by a blind man. All kinds of random ingredients. Huge seeds in the bread. Like sawdust mixed with ball bearings.

Mackenzie and Reacher alone at the table. She took off her jacket, and turned left and right to hang it on the frame of her chair. She looked back at him. Pale flawless skin, perfect bones, delicate features. Green eyes, full of sorrow. She said, “I apologize.” He said, “For what?” “When we first met. I said you were a weird obsessive, two soldiers short of a squad.” “I think it was me who said that.” “Only because you knew I was thinking it.”