Lee Child - A Wanted Man

The readout window showed a 402 area code.

‘Omaha,’ Reacher said.

Sorenson craned over to read the rest of the number.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘That’s my SAC’s private line.’

‘He’s calling Goodman? Why?’

‘You kidnapped me. He’s alerting local law enforcement all over eastern Nebraska. Iowa too, probably.’

‘Doesn’t he know Goodman is dead?’

‘I doubt it. I don’t see how he could. Not yet.’

‘How did he get this number?’

‘Database. We have lots of numbers.’

‘Has he spoken to Goodman before?’

‘No. I don’t think so. The night duty agent took a call from him. That’s all. That’s how this whole thing started.’

‘How do I work this phone?’

‘You’re not going to talk to him, are you?’

‘We can’t let everyone ignore him. He’ll start to feel bad.’

‘But he knows your voice. You two just spoke.’

‘What did Goodman sound like?’

‘Like a seventy-year-old guy from Nebraska.’

‘How do I work the phone?’

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Quick, before it goes to voice mail.’

‘There’s a microphone in the windshield pillar. Just hit the green button.’

Reacher hit the green button. He heard telephone sounds over the car speakers, unnaturally loud and clear and detailed. Every hiss and every crackle was faithfully rendered. He heard Special Agent in Charge Perry’s voice. It sounded brisk and a little tense. It said, ‘Is this Sheriff Goodman?’

Reacher took his right hand off the wheel and put his little finger in the corner of his mouth. Like an intrusive implement during a dental procedure. He said, ‘Yes, it is.’

The voice filling the car said, ‘Sheriff, I’m Anthony Perry, the SAC at the Omaha FBI. The Bureau has an interest in a situation that may be developing in your neck of the woods.’

‘And what situation would that be, sir?’

‘I believe you may have met Agent Sorenson from my office.’

‘I had that pleasure last night. A mighty fine young woman. You must be proud to have her working for you, sir.’

Sorenson laid her head back and closed her eyes.

Perry said, ‘Well, yes, but that’s beside the point right now. We picked up a report from the Nebraska State Police that a child went missing this morning.’

‘Sad but true, sir.’

‘I believe Agent Sorenson may have headed directly to you as a result.’

‘That’s good,’ Reacher said. ‘I’ll be glad of all the help I can get.’

He gulped saliva past his finger.

Perry said, ‘Are you OK, sheriff?’

‘I’m tired,’ Reacher said. ‘I’m an old man and I’ve been awake for a long time.’

‘You haven’t seen Agent Sorenson today?’

‘No, not yet, but I’ll be sure to watch out for her.’

‘It’s not that simple, sheriff. I believe she may have detoured on her way here with a male suspect. I believe that male suspect may have somehow overpowered her and may be currently holding her hostage.’

‘Well, sir, I can certainly see how you might describe that as a situation. Yes, indeed. But you don’t need my permission to come look for her. I think you’re entitled to take care of your own people. And you’re always welcome here.’

‘No, I can’t spare the manpower,’ Perry said. ‘We can’t be everywhere at once. I’m asking you and your boys to be my eyes and ears down there. Can you do that for me?’

‘Do what exactly?’

‘Let me know immediately if you see Agent Sorenson, or her car. And if possible take her companion into custody.’

‘Do you have a description?’

‘He’s a big guy with a broken nose.’

‘Is he dangerous?’

‘You should treat him as extremely dangerous. Don’t take unnecessary risks.’

‘You mean shoot first and ask questions later?’

‘I think that would be a very sound operating principle, under the circumstances.’

‘OK, you got it, Mr Perry. You can cross my county off your list of concerns, as of right now. If he comes here, we’ll deal with him.’

‘Thank you, sheriff. I very much appreciate your cooperation.’

‘We’re here to serve, sir,’ Reacher said. He took his finger out of his mouth and pressed the red button on the phone.

Sorenson didn’t speak.

Reacher said, ‘What? That’s a good result. This whole county is ours now. We can come and go as we please.’

‘But suppose we have to stray out of this county? Don’t you get it? You’re a wanted man. He’s putting a hit on you.’

‘People have tried that too,’ Reacher said. ‘And I’m still here, and they’re not.’

A mile later Sorenson called her tech team to let them know she had a new cell number. Her guys didn’t answer, so she had to leave a voice mail, which Reacher took to be a good sign, because it likely meant that right then they were hard at work, bent over a stainless steel mortuary table somewhere. He didn’t envy them their task. Like all cops he had attended autopsies. A rite of passage, and a character thing, and sometimes important to the chain of evidence. Decomposed floaters were the worst, but badly burned people were a close second. Like carving a London broil, but not exactly.

He stopped a couple of miles short of the crossroads. He didn’t want to be seen driving the dead sheriff’s car. Not by local people and especially not by Puller or any of the other deputies. He didn’t want controversy or radio chatter. Not at that point. At that point anonymity was his friend. He found a field entrance and backed up into the tractor ruts and left the motor running for the heat. He had about half a tank of gas. He stared straight ahead out the windshield at flat brown dirt that ran all the way to the horizon. Six months from then the car would have been hidden by green leaves, in the middle of thousands or tens of thousands of tons of produce, all made by plant DNA and rain and minerals from the earth.

Sorenson asked, ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Right now?’

‘No, about Delfuenso’s autopsy.’

‘It’ll be a yes or no answer,’ he said. ‘Either one thing or the other.’

‘Care to expand on that?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I might embarrass myself.’

‘Are you easily embarrassed?’

‘I can feel a little foolish if I make grand pronouncements that turn out wrong.’

‘Does that happen often?’

‘More often than I would like. Do you have kids?’

Sorenson shook her head. ‘Never happened for me.’

‘Did you want it to?’

‘I’m not sure. You?’

‘No and no. Are you easily embarrassed?’

‘Not easily,’ Sorenson said. ‘Not professionally, anyway. Sometimes personally, I suppose. Like right now I wish I could shower and change. I’ve been wearing this shirt since I got up yesterday.’

Reacher said, ‘I wear mine three days minimum. And right now my nose is busted. So I can’t smell anything anyway.’

She smiled.

He said, ‘You could go shopping. You could shower at Delfuenso’s house. This county is ours.’

‘Showering at Delfuenso’s house would be creepy. A dead woman’s bathroom?’

‘We’re driving a dead man’s car.’

‘Where could I go shopping, anyway?’

‘There must be a store in town. You could get bib overalls.’

‘You don’t want to go to town. Otherwise you wouldn’t have stopped here.’

‘We could go to Sin City. We know they have shirts there, at least. In the convenience store.’

‘Not very nice shirts.’

‘You’d look good in anything.’

‘I’ll choose to ignore that,’ she said. Then she said, ‘OK, let’s go to Sin City. I’ll do what you did. I’ll buy a shirt and you can get me an hour in a motel.’