Page 17 of In Too Deep

“How? You said you were going to tie him to a table.”

“I did. I cuffed him. Somehow he got the cuffs unlocked. Must have had a key hidden somewhere. Buthowis not important. Finding him is. So keep your eyes open. He and I—we have unfinished business.”

“Understood. Will do.”

“Good. Last thing. Is Paris with you?”

“No. Why should she be?”

“No reason. See you in an hour.”

—

The call disconnectedand Vidic sat for a moment, staring at Reacher’s door. He wasn’t happy about what he’d just heard. Why did Fletcher want him to come to the cave? It was the most secluded place he could think of. And why did Fletcher want to know if he was on his own? To figure out if he needed to worry about witnesses? Vidic turned and looked over his shoulder as if he could see through the Jeep’s back seats and into the trunk. His go-bag was there, as always. He had everything he needed. Including a copy of the report. He could leave that minute. Never be seen again. But then he thought about that wink from the universe. He figured he was overreacting.Maybe Paris was thinking along the same lines. He called her number but got bounced straight to voicemail. He hung up. Thought for a moment, then called her again. This time he left a message. Then he turned his attention back to Reacher’s door. It was five minutes since he’d closed it behind him. He figured he’d give it another ten and then, if Reacher was still inside, it would be safe to assume he would stay there.

—

Reacher counted downten minutes in his head after Wallwork ended their call then crossed to the door and peered out through the peephole. Vidic’s Jeep had gone. The space it had been in was empty. Reacher scanned the lot just in case Vidic was playing it cute and had switched to a different spot, but there was no sign of the black hood anywhere.

Reacher grabbed the key card and slid it into his back pocket. He stepped outside, made his way past the row of rooms, listening at each door, until he got to the office. No one else was there but he saw that the color scheme from his motel room was carried over. Orange. Lime green. Teal. But the design didn’t extend to the fixtures. There was a vending machine, essentially the same as hundreds of others he’d seen in hotels and motels all across the country. A wooden dispenser holding leaflets with details of local attractions. A plain reception counter. And on it, a computer.

Reacher didn’t care either way about the furnishings or the decoration, but he wasn’t too happy to see the computer. He had been hoping for an old-fashioned ledger. He found those far easier to interrogate. He leaned across the counter and contemplated the keyboard and the mouse. He was wondering which one to start with when a door opened in the back wall. A woman came through. She was maybe five feet tall. Maybe twenty-five years old. Her hair hadbeen dyed scarlet some time ago. It had long blond roots and it was sticking out at crazy angles like she had recently been electrocuted. Her skin was pale and pockmarked. She was skinny to the point of malnutrition and she was wearing bleached denim overalls and a plain white T-shirt. One strap was hanging down, unfastened, and abadge pinned to the other gave her name asMary.

“Can I help you?” she said.

Reacher said, “I hope so.” He attempted an engaging smile. “Or more accurately, I hope you can help my sister.”

“We’re not hiring.”

“That’s not a problem because she’s not looking for a job. She’s looking for her husband.”

Mary shrugged. “I haven’t seen him.”

“I wasn’t suggesting you had, but she heard he’s been coming here. Maybe to see someone else. Every week, like clockwork. So I need you to tell me if anyone is renting a room on a regular basis?”

Mary shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

“It’s not possible?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.”

Reacher nodded toward the monitor. “Aren’t those kind of details stored in the computer?”

“Obviously. But I can’t share them with you.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“I’m not allowed to. There’s like eight company policies stopping me. And probably the law, too.”

“You don’t need to worry about those things.”

“Why? Are you a cop? You don’t look like one.”

“I used to be one. But that’s not what’s important here. What’simportant is that the information does exist. Right there in the computer.”

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