The Midnight Line (Jack Reacher, #22)

by Lee Child

eighty.

answer to your question.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Because Billy ain’t coming back.’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Long story.’ The guy moved in through the

(null)

He turned this way and that, craning his neck, like a contractor about to ballpark an estimate. He said, ‘Did you check the refrigerator?’ Reacher said, ‘For what?’ ‘Food.’ ‘No.’ Noble moved to the kitchen. He looked at the dishes in the sink. He opened the refrigerator. He glanced back, as if counting heads. He said, ‘We could share bacon and eggs. There’s beer

right? Not really. Not at first. Pain was not yet a thing. Institutes

‘Where were you, when Rose was at West Point?’

my

DEA originals.

often?’ ‘More than never. Less than always.’

because her stuff was everywhere. I think a man with bad intentions would have taken better precautions.’ Reacher said, ‘Did you believe the story about the bear?’ ‘The

hoses.’ ‘We were taught the art of interrogation is mostly about listening. His language was weird. His choice of phrase. At the

said. ‘They can’t agree what to do. They stopped to talk it out.’

call?’ ‘Take a picture. Video would be better.

won’t.’ ‘Why would we trust you?’

here.’ ‘Could be a couple hours,’ the guy with the boots said. ‘You

their truck to the Toyota. Then they backed up and turned around

first.’ She got out. The guy led her down a beaten-earth path, and

us now. It won’t occur to her. Why would it? When your long-lost

accidental.’ ‘It was.’ ‘But it strikes me you would say that anyway, whether or

person

time to time.’ ‘I heard that kind of thing was hard to get now. Maybe

him.’ ‘No one believes the bear story.’ ‘Which could be an additional traumatizing factor.

walked

soon. Stackley was a man who

big as you are.’

he heard her turn around again and wait. He looked up at her. She

interesting. As far as the argument goes. You get to judge what kind of person

antlers. There were moose prints on the ground. No sign of bear. Not yet. Which Reacher was happy about. The guy’s rifle was an ancient M14 Garand. A U.S. soldier’s main squeeze sixty years before. A clumsy weapon. But competent. Except it was chambered for the NATO round. Which was a slim little thing compared to a bear. Maybe it was all the guy had left. Maybe

the hotel. Rose Sanderson was out on the porch, greeting her sister.

around. He was now Sanderson. She was now him. With adrenalin, and fight hormones, and fentanyl, or maybe half fentanyl and half withdrawal, and pain and discomfort, and the sweats and the shakes. Right then she would be watching the driver. Waiting for him to open up. A combination or a special key. Or maybe not. Maybe just a regular door. In which case it would all happen faster. The .22 was quiet for a firearm, but still a lot louder than anything else in life. In the echoing space a .22 would do the job just fine. If she took over. If she did it. Nothing yet. Still nothing. Maybe it was