Карин Слотер - Cleaning the Gold

To Will's thinking, Reacher was the worst kind of criminal. This wasn't because he was the size of a Mack truck, but because he was smart. Street smart, obviously educated, also methodical and strategic in a way that put him at the top of the top one percent of the criminal class. In most cases, the only thing that cops had going for them was that bad guys tended to be really, really stupid.

Jack Reacher was not stupid.

Will turned away.

“Did you call your people?” Reacher asked.

Will turned back.

“About what?” he said.

“The USB drive,” Reacher said. “It's in the system now. It's evidence.”

“No,” Will said.

“I called CID. Through USACIDC.” Reacher was still inside the vault. His mask was pulled down. He leaned against the doorjamb, folded his arms over his engine block of a chest. “That's the Criminal Investigation Division, Captain Wolfe.”

“And?”

“Social security numbers,” Reacher said. “Turns out Major Baldani's wife works in HR Command. Right here on the base. What they used to call Personnel. She downloads the service numbers of dead soldiers. At least two thousand so far.”

“Baldani was married to a human woman?”

“She didn't report the deaths, so the new owners of the service numbers would be eligible for all kinds of benefits.”

Will wasn't going to try to pretend he knew what a service number was.

Reacher gave him another assist. “It's the military's version of a social security number. Every soldier is assigned one. Your time of service is attached to the number, and benefits are based on time of service. We're talking pension, disability, exchange privileges, small business loans, VA home loans, GI Bill, life insurance, TRICARE—that's healthcare. You get one of those numbers, you're set for life.”

Will felt his stomach turn. Lukather hadn't just tried to sell these soldiers' identities. She had tried to sell their service.

“I'm guessing the contents of that USB drive could bring in tens of millions on the black market. There was only two million in the suitcases. Lukather sold herself short.”

Will was glad the woman was going to spend some serious time behind bars. There was not enough money to go around for veterans in the first place. For one of their own to exploit the system felt like treason.

Reacher started to push his mask back up, but Will stopped him with a question.

“Why'd you leave the job?”

Reacher waited.

“You were an MP. I know you quit the Army, but the job gets in your lungs. You can't breathe it out. Why haven't you ever put yourself back on the right side of a badge?”

“‘One can't be out in the cold all of the time.'”

He was quoting le Carre. “Don't make me love you.”

Reacher said, “I don't like being stuck behind a desk.”

“There are a lot of ways to be a cop without sitting behind a desk.”

Reacher said, “Like going undercover inside Fort Knox?”

No answer.

Reacher said, “You were never a soldier. You're not here for Baldani or Lukather. You're here for someone else. You're from Georgia, I'm guessing. Maybe some local police department.”

“GBI,” Will said. “Georgia Bureau of Investigation. A cold case.”

“You should tell me what's on your mind.”

Will debated his options, which boiled down to two. One: try to snag the toothbrush fast, and get his face broken into exactly one trillion pieces. Two: come clean and hope for the best.

He asked Reacher, “You ever hear of a town called Margrave?”

“South of Atlanta.”

Will waited. When Reacher didn't volunteer anything further, he prompted, “April 16, 1997.”

Reacher kept on waiting.

“Deputy Phillip Michael Deacon was shot twice in the head outside the Margrave public library. An eyewitness puts a stranger behind the trigger. A stranger whose description matches yours exactly.”

Reacher said, “I was not in Margrave on that date.”

“I've got DNA on a library book that proves otherwise.”

Reacher didn't seem worried. “What library book?”

“ A Guide to Birds of the Southeastern United States .”

Reacher's mouth twisted into something that could have been a smile.

Will asked, “Do hummingbirds mean anything to you?”

“They can be ferocious. You get a bully at the feeder, he'll scare off the other birds or try to stab them with his beak.” Reacher added, “It's best to take out the bully as soon as possible. Protect the weaker birds before he starves them all.”

Will got the point, but said, “Forensics pulled DNA from three drops of dried sweat on the pages of the hummingbird chapter.”

“The toothbrush,” Reacher said. “I was wondering why you kept staring at my ass.”

Will figured it was his turn to wait for more information.

Reacher asked, “Did you talk to the eyewitness?”

“Died in her sleep two years ago. Natural causes.”

Reacher nodded, like that was how it should be. “What do you know about Phillip Deacon?”

“Family man. Spent twenty-one years of his life in uniform, then another twenty-two in a hospital gown.” Will explained, “He survived the gunshots, but he was in a coma until two months ago. He died of pneumonia.”

“I see,” Reacher said. “Thereby converting the charge of attempted murder of a peace officer into murder with aggravating circumstances. A State of Georgia case.”

“A death penalty case.”

Reacher started pulling off his tattered gloves. “You ever hear of Blind Blake?”

“The blues singer?”

Reacher nodded. “My brother told me that Blake died in Margrave. Actually, he died in Wisconsin, but I never got the chance to tell him.”

Will slowly edged back against the wall. He had the fleeting thought that maybe Reacher was taking off his gloves so he could beat Will to death with his bare hands.

Reacher said, “The eyewitness to the shooting. Her name was Beatrice Collins. She was violently raped by Deacon. And badly beaten. Twice. And he made it clear he was going to do it to her again. He told her he really enjoyed it. He told her it got his motor running in a real special way.”

Will felt gut-punched.

... a wife and teenage boy at home, a married daughter with his first grandchild on the way ... a violent rapist who had terrorized a woman, probably not just one woman, because Deacon had a badge and a squad car and a boss who always made the point to look the other way ...

Reacher said, “The first time he raped her, Beatrice was dumb enough to file a report direct with the sheriff. The second time, she was doubly dumb enough to go back to the sheriff again. He told Deacon to take care of the problem. Best all around just to shut her up.”

Will's teeth started to ache from clenching his jaw.

... Deacon’s grandchild was lucky his grandfather had never held him. His son was lucky he had never seen his father in the stands. His wife was lucky that Deacon had never kissed her again, or forced himself on her or preyed on another woman ever again ...

Reacher said, “I found all this out later. My friend Neagley was starting up a detective agency. It was her first case. She filed a very comprehensive report. As it happened, my brother was in Margrave at that time. He was working. He looked just like me. Actually an inch taller and a tick lighter, but you'd have to see us side by side. He was ex-Army too. He looked like a squared-away guy. Like the Lone Ranger come to town. Beatrice Collins went to him for help. She didn't want to cause trouble. She just wanted it to stop. They were going to meet at the library. Public place. Neutral territory. She was scared. Scratch that. She was terrified. She was a small-town girl with no money and nowhere to turn. The police weren't going to help her. The sheriff once told her he would rape her himself if she told another living soul.”