Lee Child - Jack Reacher - 14 by 61 Hours

Author:61 Hours [Hours, 61]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-16T23:32:28.840000+00:00

ant coat. A backward glance merely put his whole face inside his hood. So he was forced to rely on Peterson’s vigilance behind him. He walked on, regarding each completed safe step as a separate minor triumph.

Janet Salter said, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘I was inconsiderate. I’ve put you all to a lot of trouble.’

‘All part of a day’s work. No reason why you shouldn’t go out once in a while.’

They crunched onward, slipping and sliding occasionally, forming up in single file where the footstep trail narrowed around obstacles. Reacher had a high pile of ploughed snow between himself and the roadway. After most steps his left foot came down on its lower slope.

It was like limping. He kept his eyes on the oncoming traffic. There wasn’t much. A few pick-up trucks, a few old-model SUVs, a few salt-caked cars. Nothing to worry about. Then Lowell drove by in his squad car, and slowed in surprise, and waved. Janet Salter waved back. Lowell speeded up again. Then came nothing for a spell, and then came a big dark sedan, heading north towards them. A Ford Crown Victoria. Navy blue. Easy to be sure in the bright clear light. Chief Holland’s car. The guy stopped the width of a traffic lane away and rolled down his window. He ignored Reacher completely. Looked straight at Janet Salter, some kind of concern in his face. She stopped and faced him. She said, ‘I’m out for a walk. That’s all. Nothing to worry about. Mr Peterson is doing a fine job.’

Holland said, ‘You heading home now?’

‘We’re on our way.’

‘Can I offer you a ride?’

‘Thank you, but I would rather walk. A measure of fresh air and exercise was the point of this little adventure.’

‘OK.’

‘But please join us back at the house, for coffee, if you like.’

‘OK,’ Holland said again.

He checked his mirrors and U-turned across the width of the road. Frozen ruts splintered under his wheels. He got lined up in the southbound lane but didn’t race on ahead. He kept pace instead, crawling slowly, holding a lateral line with himself on the left behind the wheel, then his empty passenger seat, then the berm of ploughed snow, then Reacher, then Janet Salter. His front tyres were made of hard winter compound, and they crunched and scrabbled slowly. He had chains on the back. Each link rotated into position and made its own distinct sound. He put his flashing lights on, to warn the traffic behind him of his low speed. He had strobes concealed in the rear parcel shelf, matched by more behind the radiator grille. Reacher guessed they would do the job. From a distance the unmarked car would look like a regular police cruiser.

Janet Salter said, ‘This is ridiculous.’

Reacher said, ‘He’s just doing his job.’

‘I don’t like the attention.’

‘You’re important to him.’

‘Only because he can use me.’

‘You’re a prominent citizen. You’re the kind of person a chief of police worries about.’

Janet Salter said, ‘The only prominent citizens in this town are the prison staff.

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