Lee Child - Running Blind

Leighton nodded, somber. “That’s how it was, I promise you. And you know I wouldn’t bullshit one of Garber’s boys.”

Reacher just nodded.

THERE WAS NO more conversation. No more talk. The room went silent. Leighton sat at the table. Harper dressed mechanically. Reacher put his coat on and found the Nissan keys in Harper’s jacket. Went outside and stood in the rain for a long moment. Then he unlocked the car and slid inside. Started the motor and waited. Harper and Leighton came out together. She crossed to the car and he walked back to his. He waved, just a brief motion of his hand. Reacher put the Nissan in drive and pulled slowly out of the lot.

“Check the map for me,” he said.

“I-295 and then the Turnpike,” she said.

He nodded. “I know it after that. Lamarr showed me.”

“Why the hell would Lorraine Stanley steal the paint?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“And you want to tell me why ?” she asked. “You knew this Army thing was nothing, but you made us spend thirty-six hours on it. Why?”

“I already told you,” he said. “It was an experiment, and I needed time to think.”

“About what?”

He didn’t answer. She went quiet for a spell.

“Good job we didn’t go all the way celebrating,” she said.

He didn’t reply to that either. Didn’t speak again, the whole way. He just found the right roads and drove on through the rain. He had new questions in his head, and he tried to think of some answers, but nothing would come. The only thing in his mind was the feel of her tongue in his mouth. It felt different from Jodie’s. Tasted different. He guessed everybody’s was different.

HE DROVE FAST and it took a fraction under three hours from the outskirts of Trenton all the way back to Quantico. He turned in at the unmarked road off 95 and drove through the Marine checkpoints in the dark and waited at the vehicle barrier. The FBI sentry shone a flashlight on their badges and their faces and raised the striped pole and waved them through. They eased over the speed bumps and wound slowly through the empty parking lots and pulled up opposite the glass doors. It had stopped raining back in Maryland. Virginia was dry.

“OK,” Harper said. “Let’s go get our asses chewed.” Reacher nodded. Killed the motor and the lights and sat in the silence for a beat. Then they looked at each other and slid out of the car and stepped to the doors. Took a deep breath. But the atmosphere inside the building was very calm. It was quiet. Nobody was around. Nobody was waiting for them. They went down in the elevator to Blake’s underground office. Found him sitting in there at his desk with one hand resting on the telephone and the other holding a curled sheet of fax paper. The television was playing silently, political cable, men in suits at an impressive table. Blake was ignoring it. He was staring at a spot on his desk equidistant from the fax paper and the phone and his face was totally blank. Harper nodded to him, and Reacher said nothing.

“Fax in from UPS,” Blake said. His voice was gentle. Amiable, even benign. He looked crestfallen, adrift, confused. He looked beaten.

“Guess who sent the paint to Alison Lamarr?” he said.

“Lorraine Stanley,” Reacher said.

Blake nodded.

“Correct,” he said. “From an address in a little town in Utah, that turned out to be a self-storage facility. And guess what else?”

“She sent all of it.”

Blake nodded again. “UPS has got eleven consecutive consignment numbers showing eleven identical cartons going to eleven separate addresses, including Stanley’s own place in San Diego. And guess what else?”

“What?”

“She didn’t even have her own place when she first put the paint in the storage facility. She waited the best part of a year until she was settled, then she went back up to Utah and dispatched it all. So what do you make of that?”

“I don’t know,” Reacher said.

“Neither do I,” Blake said.

Then he picked up the phone. Stared at it. Put it down again.

“And Poulton just called,” he said. “From Spokane. Guess what he had to say?”

“What?”

“He just got through interviewing the UPS driver. The guy remembers pretty well. Isolated place, big heavy box, I guess he would.”

“And?”

“Alison was there when he called. She was listening to the ball game too, radio on in the kitchen. She asked him inside, gave him coffee, they heard the grand slam together. A little hollering, a little dancing around, another coffee, he tells her he’s got a big heavy box for her.”

“And?”

“And she says oh, good. He goes back out and wheels it off the tail lift on a hand truck, she clears a space for it in the garage, he brings it in, he dumps it, and she’s all smiles about it.”

“Like she was expecting it?”

Blake nodded. “That was the guy’s impression. And then what does she do?”

“What?”

“She tears off the ‘Documents enclosed’ thing and carries it back to the kitchen with her. He follows, to finish up his mug of coffee. She pulls the delivery note out of the plastic, and she shreds it up into small pieces, and she dumps them in the trash, along with the plastic. ”

“Why?”

Blake shrugged. “Who the hell knows? But this guy worked UPS four years, and six times out of ten people were home for him, and he never saw such a thing before.”

“Is he reliable?”

“Poulton thinks so. Says he’s a solid guy, clear, articulate, ready to swear the whole damn thing on a stack of Bibles.”

“So what’s your take?”

Blake shook his head. “I had any idea, you’d be the first to know.”

Nighttime silence in the office.

“I apologize,” Reacher said. “My theory led us nowhere. ”

Blake made a face. “Don’t think twice. It was our call. It was worth a try. We wouldn’t have let you go, otherwise.”

“Is Lamarr around?”

“Why?”

“I should apologize to her, too.”

Blake shook his head. “She’s at home. She hasn’t been back. Says she’s a wreck, and she’s right. Can’t blame her.”

Reacher nodded. “A lot of stress. She should get away.”

Blake shrugged. “Where to? She won’t get on a damn plane. And I don’t want her driving anyplace, the state she’s in.”

Then his eyes hardened. He seemed to come back down to earth.

“I’m going to look for another consultant,” he said. “When I find one, you’re out of here. You’re getting nowhere. You’ll have to take your chances with the New York people.”

Reacher nodded.

“OK,” he said.

Blake looked away and Harper took her cue and led Reacher out of the office. Into the elevator, up to ground level, up to the third floor. They walked together through the corridor to the familiar door.

“Why was she expecting it?” Harper said. “Why was Alison expecting the box of paint, when all the others weren’t?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Harper opened his door.

“OK, good night,” she said.

“You mad at me?”

“You wasted thirty-six hours.”

“No, I invested thirty-six hours.”

“In what?”

“I don’t know, yet.”

She shrugged. “You’re a weird guy.”

He nodded. “So people say.”

Then he kissed her chastely on the cheek, before she could duck away. He stepped into his room. She waited until the door swung shut before she walked back to the elevator.

THE SHEETS AND the towels had been changed. There was new soap and shampoo. A new razor and a fresh can of shaving cream. He upended a glass and put his toothbrush in it. Walked to the bed and lay down, fully dressed, still in his coat. Stared up at the ceiling. Then he rolled up onto one elbow and picked up the phone. Dialed Jodie’s number. It rang four times, and he heard her voice, slow and sleepy.