One Shot (Jack Reacher, #9)

by Lee Child

“They were doped up? Then you were lucky.” Reacher shook his head. “You want to fight with me, your best choice would be aspirin.”

The room was empty. Nothing in there at all, except a forlorn little sequence of bathroom items lined up on a shelf above the sink. A new pack of throwaway razors, open, one used. A new can of shaving foam, with dried bubbles around the nozzle. A new tube of toothpaste, twice squeezed. “This guy travels light,” the first cop said.

“Mostly for the puppet master. He’s sitting there thinking he’s as smart as a whip. I don’t like that. Never have. Makes me want to show him what smart really is.”