by Diane Capri
“Wait. What?” Otto widened her eyes and sat a little straighter in her chair. “On the same team? You’re saying Reacher is working undercover for the DEA?”
If that were true, a lot of Reacher’s unexplained activities suddenly made perfect sense.
Like why he lived off the grid. Why there was no mention of him in FBI files. Why no one could ever find him. Why he’d seemed to be helping her lately. Why he’d saved her life, even.
And why the Boss had held the intel back, kept her working not only off the books but completely in the dark, too.
Reacher as an undercover operative.
Made perfect sense.
All the puzzle pieces could fit nicely into that picture. Her world would return to normal. She might relax, at least a little bit.
Maybe.
But Noble was already shaking his head before she had a chance to think the idea through. “Nothing like that.”
The momentary hope died, and she slumped back in her chair. She was somewhat surprised at how reluctant she was to let go of the brief flicker.
“What then?” she asked.
Noble said, “He told me about his background. Thirteen years in the Army. Military police. Terminal at major. He was working with a retired FBI Agent from the Chicago Field Office, now a licensed private investigator. They were after a guy I’d been chasing down for opioid dealing.”
Then she realized what Noble had said. She held her palm up. “Wait. Reacher told you this stuff? You talked to him? In person?”
Noble cocked his head as if he was perplexed by the question. “Yes. I said that, didn’t I?”
CHAPTER 6
Thursday, February 10
10:05 p.m.
Detroit, Michigan
“Start at the beginning,” she said, perking up. She made no effort to record the conversation. She figured the Boss was already doing that.
Noble frowned. “Like I said, not much to tell. Met the guy and his friends once, that’s all.”
“His friends? He had people with him?” She stared. Reacher was a loner. He never stayed in one place long enough to connect to anyone.
“Yeah. Bramall, the private investigator, like I said. And a woman,” Noble replied. He swigged the last of the beer. “Got another one of these?”
She waved him to the fridge. He stuck his head inside and rummaged around the empty condiment jars and moldy cheese until he found what he wanted.
“Give me the blow-by-blow on your Reacher interview,” she said. “One word at a time.”
“Not much to tell. I wouldn’t call it an interview. More like a conversation. I went to take possession of a house we’d seized for illegal drug activities. Reacher was there.” He closed the fridge and leaned against the counter. He twisted the cap off the last bottle.
“Reacher was living there? Out west?” Her mind was officially blown, and her patience had worn thin. She swiped fatigue from her eyes with her palm. “Explain this to me like I’m a five-year-old, Noble. What was Reacher doing in the house? Why did he have Bramall and the woman with him?”
“Okay. But can we find a more comfortable place to chat? No offense, but these chairs aren’t big enough for my ten-year-old daughter.” He tossed the beer cap into the trashcan beside the sink and nodded toward the sofa.
He must have noticed the astonished expression on her face because he smiled and winked and said, “I don’t look old enough to have a ten-year-old, right? Everybody says that. She was born when I was six.”
Otto grinned and shook her head as she led the way to more comfortable seating. The guy was personable, she’d give him that.
When they had resettled, Noble said, “I’m happy to answer all your questions about Reacher if you’ll help me with the stuff I need. But we’ll have time for that later.”
Her nerves were immediately on edge again. Her work was confidential. Off the books. She couldn’t tell him anything much. “Help you with what?”
“Following a lead.” Noble reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed plastic evidence bag. He tossed it to her.
She grabbed it in midair. Inside the bag was an empty blister pack. The kind that usually held prescription or over-the-counter medications.
This one was silver on the back. The front was embossed with a blue manufacturer’s logo. The clear plastic bubbles were empty now, but they had held round tablets once.
Also in the evidence bag was an empty foil packet about the size of a deck of playing cards. Same blue logo.
“We found those in Chicago a few weeks ago. From the same manufacturer we were chasing when I met Reacher. We thought we’d stopped the traffickers at the source back then. Turns out we hadn’t.” He paused, swigged, took a big breath.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“After a long hiatus, the case has somehow reactivated. The network we closed down found new connections,” he replied.
“What are you doing about that?”
“We have a lead on the head of the distribution ring, but I’m stuck. I need more intel from the woman Reacher was traveling with to help us close the case.”
Otto shrugged. She was FBI. She wasn’t chasing drug dealers unless she was officially assigned to do it.
She tossed the evidence bag back to him. “Was she attractive?”
“What?” Noble asked. He slipped the evidence bag into his pocket.
“With Reacher, there’s always a woman. Usually, she’s law enforcement or military or both. Often, she’s beautiful.” Otto shook her head as if this was one of many mysteries she hadn’t solved. “What it is about Reacher that’s attractive to such women, anyway? You’ve met the guy. Can you clue me in?”
Noble laughed. “Sorry, but Reacher’s not my type. Hate to crush your theory, but you’re wrong about this woman, too.”
Otto arched her eyebrows. “She wasn’t beautiful?”
“Oh, yeah. Tiffany Jane Mackenzie was far beyond beautiful. She was one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen in my life. She had the most amazing hair, too.” Noble paused and grinned when Otto scowled fiercely. “But she wasn’t a cop, and she wasn’t military or even ex-military.”
“That’s a first.” Otto’s scowl deepened.
He shrugged. “If it’s any consolation, Jane Mackenzie’s sister was ex-military. By all accounts, she was stunningly beautiful, too. They’re twins.”
“Twins? Identical?”
“Apparently. I never met the sister.” Noble’s expression clouded. “I don’t have all the details. All I know is that both women are missing, and I need to find them, so we can wrap up this new distribution ring.”
“And you figure Reacher might know where they are?”
He nodded. “Or at least, know something that might help me locate one of them, and from there, maybe I can find a solid lead. Otherwise, I’ve hit the wall.”
“What about the private investigator? Can’t he help you?”
“I tried him before I came here. The sisters live in Chicagoland, too. Lake Forest. When I couldn’t locate the sisters, I called him. No answer,” Noble said quietly.
Otto cocked her head. “That’s odd. You figure he’s with the sisters? Or maybe he and Reacher are together again?”
“I don’t know,” he replied.
She asked, “What about the husbands?”
“Only one husband.” Noble’s voice went quieter still. He leaned in. “One sister is married. The other isn’t.”
She suspected what was coming next based on his demeanor, but she asked anyway. “And what does the husband say about all this?”
“When I find him, I’ll ask. The husband is missing, too.”
She plopped back onto the sofa and tucked her feet under her, shaking her head. “Seems unlikely to me. What reason would all three have to disappear like that?”
“Five.”
“What?”
“All five have disappeared, counting the investigator. And Reacher.” He paused. “And I d
on’t know whether they’re all together.”
“Right.” She uncoiled her coarse, black hair and ran both hands through to free it from the tight bun anchored at the base of her skull. “What have we got to work with?”
“I believe I know who made them disappear, and I think I know why,” Noble replied. “And if I’m right, they’re in big trouble.”
Otto cocked her head. Noble was probably telling the truth as well as he knew it. But if the five were together, and he thought they were in big trouble, then he knew way less than she did about Reacher.
The guy was like Teflon. Nothing ever stuck to him. And in her experience, in every confrontation of any kind, Reacher was always the last man standing.
CHAPTER 7
Thursday, February 10
11:35 p.m.
Detroit, Michigan
“You really don’t know where to find Reacher?” Noble asked, his face the very image of sincere curiosity.
Otto shrugged and shook her head. “If I knew where he was, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”
“Where have you looked?”
She made a quick decision to confirm things he probably already knew or could find quickly. “Same places you have, I imagine. He has no fixed address, no cell phone, no registered vehicles.”
“Family?”
“All deceased. One brother and both parents.” She didn’t mention the girl she believed to be Reacher’s daughter. He had no reason to know the girl existed. No reason to send Noble off on a wild goose chase when Reacher was not likely to be found anywhere near the girl.
“Reacher’s not working, I guess, or you’d have found employment records. What’s he do for walking around money?” Noble asked.
“Probably not dealing drugs, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Otto replied.
Noble shrugged. “I’m a DEA agent. What else would I think?”
“He’s collecting a pension from the Army, which is automatically deposited into his bank account every month. He makes withdrawals from time to time, sporadically. Uses an ATM card. Rarely uses the same ATM twice. Not enough to support a normal person.”
“So he’s funding his lifestyle with ill-gotten gains? Some kind of ongoing criminal activity?” Noble considered a moment and then shook his head. “I’ve gotta say, he didn’t seem the type to me. He seemed to be traveling whichever way the wind blows. Kinda tough to run a successful criminal enterprise with that kind of nomadic existence.”
“He’s had a lot of Army training. Honed his survival skills. He could live off practically nothing. Scavenge food and clothes from dumpsters. But none of that is very likely,” she replied, shaking her head.
Noble seemed to consider things for a moment before he asked, “And there are no other withdrawals from his bank account by third parties, such as a mortgage payment or car payment, or a girlfriend?”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t have a credit score or even a credit card. He doesn’t donate blood or bone marrow and, so far as we know, nobody’s received any of his organs.”
“Good to know you’ve checked the organ banks.” Noble laughed. “Trouble with the law?”
“Sure. But don’t be so hopeful. Nothing we can anticipate or even trace,” she replied. “He’s been arrested a few times, but he’s always released from jail by the time we find out about it.”
“Driver’s license?”
“Nope.”
“Passport?”
She nodded. “Yeah. We’ve got standard traps running on all the airlines, trains, and border crossings.”
Noble seemed to think about it for a while. He tapped his beer bottle with his forefinger. “I said I only met him once. Which is true. But I talked to him on the phone a couple of times.”
“A pay phone? He likes pay phones.” She didn’t mention that Reacher also knew how to acquire and operate cell phones. He’d texted her a few times, and left voicemail messages, too.
He shook his head. “I called him. Or rather, I called the Chicago investigator’s cell phone, and Reacher talked to me. I called the same number yesterday and again today and got voicemail. No call back yet.”
Otto shrugged. “We’re thinking of forming a club. Members will be everybody Reacher’s left behind and never looked back.”
“Which is why you were hoping he was working undercover for us or one of the other agencies after he left the Army, right? Because he’s so far off the grid he’s invisible?” Noble asked.
Otto nodded but said nothing.
Noble said, “It does sound like he’s deep undercover for somebody, I agree. It’s hard to live off the grid like that for fifteen years without support from somewhere.”
Otto agreed. She still figured a private contractor was involved. But she wasn’t about to say that to Noble. She broke eye contact for a few moments, considering how much intel she was willing to share.
Finally, she said, “He’s only been off the grid for about twelve years, actually. Not the whole fifteen since he left the Army. Three years after, he inherited a house in upstate New York.”
Noble’s eyebrows arched and the freckles on his nose popped out. “Really? Inherited? So no loan application required, eh? No mortgage?”
“Right. He also owned a car back then, which he somehow paid cash for, so no loan docs there, either.”
“He lived in the house alone?”
She shook her head. “For a brief time, he was involved in a steady romantic relationship. When that ended, he abandoned the house and disappeared again.”
Noble cocked his head and seemed to be thinking things through. “So you and your partner, Gaspar is it?”
“Right.”
“You’ve been interviewing Reacher’s friends and colleagues, checking out places he might have lived? Scouring the databases. All the usual background investigation stuff?”
“Pretty much,” she nodded.
“You’ve been on the trail more than, what? Twelve weeks? And you haven’t seen the guy? Even once?” He raised his eyebrows all the way up his freckled forehead into his hairline.
Solid question. Otto broke eye contact again. Had she seen Reacher in person? Even once? Possibly.
Like Noble, she couldn’t prove anything. But she believed Reacher had been there, in the background, several times.
She’d noticed shadows and odors. Things she couldn’t explain. And she didn’t believe in paranormal events, regardless of what her mother might say.
She took a deep breath. Once, Reacher had saved her life. She was sure he had.
Gaspar didn’t believe that, though. He didn’t have many warm fuzzies for Reacher.
But Otto believed she’d be dead now if Reacher hadn’t fished her out of the Atlantic Ocean that day. Knew it the same way she knew Boy Howdy here, sitting across from her right now with his toothy smile and his freckled nose and his aw-shucks mannerisms, wasn’t nearly as guileless as he pretended to be.
Her muscles had stiffened up. She straightened her back and stretched like a cat. She glanced at her watch. It was late. She needed to wrap this up and get some sleep.
“You already know that Gaspar and I have been assigned to the Special Personnel Task Force. We’re working on a classified background check. I can’t identify the target for you. We’re never required to interview anyone in particular, but at some point, we’d like to talk to everyone who has knowledge, of course. All you need to know is that I’d like to interview Reacher. I think I have a pretty good feel for the guy at this point.”
Otto climbed off the sofa. She collected her glass and walked it to the kitchen sink. When she turned, he was still seated across the open space, and she was within reach of her gun.
“But you aren’t really looking for Reacher at all, are you?” She paused. “You’re tracking those two sisters, and you think they might be with Reacher. You thought all of them might be here. With me. Didn’t you? Which blows my mind, honestly.”
“I told you I’d hit a wall.” Noble n
odded. “I’d heard through the grapevine that you were investigating Reacher. He could have been here in Detroit. At the very least, I figured you’d know where to find him by now. So I took a flyer and came here.”
“You heard wrong.” Her stomach did a few flips. Until now he hadn’t suggested he’d learned the truth about her assignment. “We’re not investigating Reacher. We’re just doing the background check like I said.”
He shrugged. “What’s the difference?”
“You know the difference. We’d only be investigating Reacher if he was under suspicion of committing a federal crime,” she said. “Until and unless he’s suspected of a crime over which we have jurisdiction, investigating him would be illegal.”
Noble grinned as if she’d admitted something. Which she hadn’t.
The truth was that she and Gaspar were investigating Reacher. That was exactly what they’d been assigned to do. Yet, they had seen no proof that Reacher was engaged in terrorism, cybercrime, organized or violent crimes for which the FBI was responsible, either for preventing or solving.
The work was classified. Off the books. Nothing in the files.
She knew for sure the files didn’t contain even a whiff of their actual assignment because she’d checked again today. Her cover story was the SPTF background check, and even that wasn’t public knowledge.
Now Noble was saying he’d heard about an investigation. This loose talk was too serious to joke about.
“Come on, Otto. You’ve been on the job long enough to know how this goes. I asked around. People talk.” He shrugged.
“What people?” she asked, but she knew he was right. All the agencies leaked like sieves. Everybody knew that. Why had she allowed herself to forget how much danger she was living with every day?
Noble stood and stretched and yawned. Mouth big and wide open like a fish. “Okay. Have it your way. You’re not investigating Reacher. Anybody asks me, I’ll tell them I got the straight scoop from the horse’s mouth.”
Otto nodded. “You do that.”
