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.

It fit easily.

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds

lawyer who died and got to the pearly gates. Not fair, he said. I’m only 45. Saint Pete said no, we got a new system. Now we do it by billable hours. According to our records you’re 153.