Reacher heard a car in the street. The soft hiss and squelch of a big sedan. He got up and stepped into the hallway and looked out the window. A black Lincoln Town Car. Two guys in it. Pale faces, fair hair, white necks. They were trying to turn the car around. Back and forth, back and forth, across the narrow width. They wanted to be facing in the right direction. For a fast getaway, perhaps. Abby’s Toyota didn’t help. It was in the way.
Reacher went back to the living room.
He said, “They figured out Aaron Shevick’s address.”
Abby stood up.
Maria said, “They’re here?”
“Because someone sent them,” Reacher said. “That’s the thing we have to remember. We’ve got about thirty seconds to figure this out. Whoever sent them knows where they are. If anything happens to them, this house becomes ground zero for retribution. We should try to avoid that if possible. If we were somewhere else, no problem. But not here.”
Shevick said, “So what do we do?”
“Get rid of them.”
“Me?”
“Any of you. Just not me. I’m the one they think is Aaron Shevick.”
There was a knock at the door.
Chapter 18
There was a second knock at the door. No one moved. Then Abby took a step, but Maria put a hand on her arm, and Aaron went instead. Reacher ducked into the kitchen, and sat there, listening. He heard the door open, and then a missed beat from the step, just silence, as if the two guys were momentarily set back by the fact that the man who had opened the door was not the man they were looking for.
One of them said, “We need to speak with Mr. Aaron Shevick.”
Mr. Aaron Shevick said, “Who?”
“Aaron Shevick.”
“I think he was the last tenant.”
“You rent here?”
“I’m retired. Too expensive to buy.”
“Who’s your landlord?”
“A bank.”
“What’s your name?”
“I’m not sure I want to tell you that, until you state your business.”
“Our business is private, with Mr. Shevick alone. It’s a very sensitive matter.”
“Wait a minute,” Shevick said. “Are you from the government?”
No answer.
“Or the insurance fund?”
One of the two guys said, “What’s your name, old man?”
Menace in his voice.
Shevick said, “Jack Reacher.”
“How do we know you’re not Aaron Shevick’s dad?”
“We would have the same name.”
“Father-in-law, then. How do we know he’s not in the house right now? Maybe you took over the lease and he squats in a room. We know he’s not exactly swimming in cash right now.”
Shevick said nothing.
The same voice said, “We’re coming in to take a look.”
There was the sound of Shevick getting shoved aside, and then footsteps in the hallway. Reacher stood up and moved behind the kitchen door. He opened a drawer, and another, and another, until he found a cooking knife. Better than nothing. He heard Abby and Maria move out of the living room and into the hallway.
The footsteps kept on coming.
He heard Abby say, “Who are you?”
“We’re looking for Mr. Aaron Shevick,” one of the guys said.
“Who?”
“What’s your name?”
“Abigail,” Abby said.
“Abigail what?”
“Reacher,” she said. “These are my grandparents, Jack and Joanna.”
“Where’s Shevick?”
“He was the last tenant. He moved out.”
“Where did he go?”
“He didn’t leave a forwarding address. He gave the impression he was having serious financial problems. I think basically he skipped in the night. He ran away.”
“You sure?”
“I know who lives here, mister. This is a two-bedroom house. One for my grandparents, and one for me, when I’m here. For guests, when I’m not. There are no squatters. I think I would have noticed.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“Who?”
“Mr. Aaron Shevick.”
“No.”
“I met him,” Maria Shevick said. “When we first saw the house.”
“What did he look like?”
“I remember him as being tall and powerfully built.”
“That’s the guy,” the voice said. “How long has he been gone?”
“About a year.”
No response. The footsteps moved on, to the living room door. The voice said, “You’ve been here a year and you don’t have a TV yet?”
“We’re retired,” Maria said. “These things are expensive.”
The voice said, “Huh.”
Reacher heard a quiet, scratchy click. Then the footsteps retreated. Back down the hallway. To the front door. To the front step. To the narrow concrete path. Reacher heard the car start up, and then he heard it drive away. The soft hiss and squelch of a big sedan.
Silence came back.
He put the knife in its place in the drawer, and he stepped out of the kitchen.
“Nice work, everyone,” he said.
Aaron looked shaky. Maria looked pale.
“They took a photograph,” Abby said. “Like a parting shot.”
Reacher nodded. The quiet, scratchy click. A cell phone, imitating a camera.
“A photograph of what?” he said.
“The three of us. Partly for their report. Partly for their just-in-case database. But mostly to intimidate. It’s what they do. People feel vulnerable.”
Reacher nodded again. He remembered the luminous guy in the bar. Raising his phone. The little snitch of a sound. If I was a real client, I wouldn’t have liked it.
The Shevicks stepped into the kitchen, to make more coffee. Reacher and Abby went to the living room, to wait for it.
Abby said, “Intimidation is not the only issue with that photograph.”
“What else?” Reacher said.
“They’ll text the picture. Among themselves. That’s what they do. In case someone can fill in another part of the puzzle. Sooner or later everyone will get the text. The guy on the door at work will get it. He knows I’m not Abigail Reacher. He knows I’m Abby Gibson. So do a lot of other guys on a lot of other doors, because I’ve worked a lot of other places. They’ll start asking questions. They already don’t like me.”
“Do they know where you live?”
“I’m sure they could make my boss tell them.”
“When will they send the text?”
“I’m sure they already have.”
“Is there someplace else you could stay?”
She nodded.
“I have a friend,” she said. “East of Center Street. Albanian territory, happily.”
“Can you work there?”
“I have before.”
Reacher said, “I sincerely apologize for the disruption.”
“I’m thinking of it as an experiment,” she said. “Someone once told me that every day a woman should do something that scared her.”
“She could join the army.”
“You need to be based east of Center anyway. We can stick together. At least tonight.”
“Will that be OK with your friend?”
“I hope so,” she said. “Will the Shevicks be OK tonight?”
Reacher nodded.
“People believe their own eyes,” he said. “In this case their own eyes were the luminous guy’s in the bar. He met me. His phone took my picture. I am Aaron Shevick. It’s set in stone. In their minds Shevick is a big tall guy from a younger generation. You could tell by the things they said. They accused him of being Shevick’s dad, or his father-in-law, but they never accused him of being Shevick himself. So they’ll be OK. As far as those guys are concerned, they’re just an old couple named Reacher.”
Then Maria called through to say the coffee was ready.
—
The manager of the grimy pawn shop across the narrow street from the taxi dispatcher and the bail bond office came out the door and dodged a truck and ducked into the taxi place. He ignored the weary guy on the radio and pushed on through to the back. To Gregory’s outer office. Gregory’s right-hand man looked up and asked him what he wanted. He said something had happened. Quicker to walk it across the street than put it in a text.