begun to envy Reacher’s expertise in privacy protection. He was exceedingly adept at secrets, too. Otto’s experience said a guy that good at secrets had way too much to hide.
This county road would take them directly into town and no amount of reviewing their route would make the drive less desolate.
Kim murmured her thoughts aloud. “Why would Reacher come to New Hope, anyway? We’ve seen nothing but empty fields and this is the main road from the interstate into town. Not even a barn for the past fifteen miles. No diner with a good cup of hot coffee anywhere to be found. What the hell would he be doing here?”
Gaspar shrugged. “The guy’s a psycho. Nothing he’s done makes any sense so far. Why should today be different?”
Kim wagged her head slowly, as if clearing the cobwebs in an enclosed space to make room for better answers, but none appeared. “What's your plan if we find him?”
Gaspar grinned, stretched, flexed his shoulders and his neck. “You worry too much. There’s no designated worrier achievement medal, you know.”
She’d have punched his shoulder, but her arms were too short to box across the Crown Vic’s wide bench while snugged into her safety restraint. “Just because I'm the one worrying about it doesn't mean the question isn’t worrisome, Chico.”
He seemed briefly startled by the vibration of his personal cell phone. Gaspar patted his pockets, arched one eyebrow to accentuate his words, and asked in a playful tone, “You really think we’re gonna need a plan today , Susie Wong?”
Kim’s concern jerked several notches higher when he retrieved the phone, glanced at the caller ID, tapped the answer button, and simply said, “Hello.”
Gaspar’s wife was very pregnant and dealing with four kids already. Although Gaspar kept the phone close at all times, Maria had never called before. Cops’ wives rarely did because receiving the wrong call at the wrong time could cause disastrous consequences. No cop's wife ever rang up out of the blue with good news; no cop receiving the call ever displayed his fear when the call came.
Kim turned aside to allow what privacy she could within the vehicle’s cabin. His side of phone conversations were mostly monosyllabic anyway. Kim easily tuned him out while she considered his point.
Even if Reacher had been in New Hope yesterday, experience told her to expect another dead end today. Perhaps she had missed something relevant. But what? She ran known facts through her head quickly.
Ten days ago, Otto and Gaspar were tasked with a routine assignment: build a file on a former military cop, applying standard background investigation techniques. The file would be used to vet him for an undisclosed classified project. Otto and Gaspar worked similar investigations as members of the FBI’s Special Personnel Task Force.
The job had seemed feasibly straightforward at first. Some snafu somewhere needed ironing out.
Reacher’s life was etched in bedrock government records like any other American from birth to age thirty-six, when he was honorably discharged from the Army. Up to that moment fifteen years ago, everything contained in Reacher’s file was as expected. Records for birth, school, health, military, passport, driver’s license, insurance, banking, and every other standard bit and byte of data existed precisely where it should have been.
The problem was that records simply stopped for Reacher at age thirty-six.
Otto and Gaspar were told to close the gap in his paper trail and bring Reacher up to date with the rest of the world. Something as simple as Reacher’s death certificate would have settled the matter. Maybe it would have taken a couple of days.
Instead, everything got incredibly complicated very quickly.
Nothing about his file was normal now. Reacher’s missing data traveled far beyond odd into unthinkable realms. Even when Americans were reported abducted by aliens, some secret government file somewhere existed to
This county road would take them directly into town and no amount of reviewing their route would make the drive less desolate.
Kim murmured her thoughts aloud. “Why would Reacher come to New Hope, anyway? We’ve seen nothing but empty fields and this is the main road from the interstate into town. Not even a barn for the past fifteen miles. No diner with a good cup of hot coffee anywhere to be found. What the hell would he be doing here?”
Gaspar shrugged. “The guy’s a psycho. Nothing he’s done makes any sense so far. Why should today be different?”
Kim wagged her head slowly, as if clearing the cobwebs in an enclosed space to make room for better answers, but none appeared. “What's your plan if we find him?”
Gaspar grinned, stretched, flexed his shoulders and his neck. “You worry too much. There’s no designated worrier achievement medal, you know.”
She’d have punched his shoulder, but her arms were too short to box across the Crown Vic’s wide bench while snugged into her safety restraint. “Just because I'm the one worrying about it doesn't mean the question isn’t worrisome, Chico.”
He seemed briefly startled by the vibration of his personal cell phone. Gaspar patted his pockets, arched one eyebrow to accentuate his words, and asked in a playful tone, “You really think we’re gonna need a plan today , Susie Wong?”
Kim’s concern jerked several notches higher when he retrieved the phone, glanced at the caller ID, tapped the answer button, and simply said, “Hello.”
Gaspar’s wife was very pregnant and dealing with four kids already. Although Gaspar kept the phone close at all times, Maria had never called before. Cops’ wives rarely did because receiving the wrong call at the wrong time could cause disastrous consequences. No cop's wife ever rang up out of the blue with good news; no cop receiving the call ever displayed his fear when the call came.
Kim turned aside to allow what privacy she could within the vehicle’s cabin. His side of phone conversations were mostly monosyllabic anyway. Kim easily tuned him out while she considered his point.
Even if Reacher had been in New Hope yesterday, experience told her to expect another dead end today. Perhaps she had missed something relevant. But what? She ran known facts through her head quickly.
Ten days ago, Otto and Gaspar were tasked with a routine assignment: build a file on a former military cop, applying standard background investigation techniques. The file would be used to vet him for an undisclosed classified project. Otto and Gaspar worked similar investigations as members of the FBI’s Special Personnel Task Force.
The job had seemed feasibly straightforward at first. Some snafu somewhere needed ironing out.
Reacher’s life was etched in bedrock government records like any other American from birth to age thirty-six, when he was honorably discharged from the Army. Up to that moment fifteen years ago, everything contained in Reacher’s file was as expected. Records for birth, school, health, military, passport, driver’s license, insurance, banking, and every other standard bit and byte of data existed precisely where it should have been.
The problem was that records simply stopped for Reacher at age thirty-six.
Otto and Gaspar were told to close the gap in his paper trail and bring Reacher up to date with the rest of the world. Something as simple as Reacher’s death certificate would have settled the matter. Maybe it would have taken a couple of days.
Instead, everything got incredibly complicated very quickly.
Nothing about his file was normal now. Reacher’s missing data traveled far beyond odd into unthinkable realms. Even when Americans were reported abducted by aliens, some secret government file somewhere existed to
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