Page 40 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

She turned a second slow circle, this time scanning below the ponchos at legs and shoes. Most were wearing damp jeans and wet running shoes. A few hearty souls wore sandals and paid for it with wet blue feet.

Kim squinted skyward toward the outer edge of the observation deck, catching brief glimpses of the Rainbow Bridge where the fireworks would originate. She lowered her gaze, seeking Westwood again.

Which was when she saw a man wearing cargo shorts and hiking boots with speckled laces like miniature mountain climbing ropes among the crowd ahead.

She’d seen similar sturdy legs and boots before. One of Westwood’s articles showed photos of him in the field wearing the same type of shorts and footwear. Could the sturdy legs belong to him?

Kim moved toward the boots. Before she reached them, she glanced back toward the tunnel’s exit.

Russell had emerged, head and shoulders above the others in his cohort, clad in a massive yellow poncho, scanning the crowd just as she had done.

Reassured by his presence, she turned back and continued moving toward the hiking boots, threading slowly through the crowd, making slow progress. The man wearing the boots was now surrounded by gawkers, tightly packed together.

Conversation volume out here was raised several decibels to be heard above the roar of the falls.

The area’s night lighting dimmed in preparation for the fireworks show. The observation deck and all surrounding areas, north and south, became darker, shadowed and foreboding.

Before Kim could reach Westwood, without warning, the first explosion filled the sky with an almost supersonic boom that shook her teeth. Followed by sparkling fireworks near the Rainbow Bridge.

The spectacle drew awed gasps from the crowd, along with pointing, shouting, applause, and laughter.

More explosions followed quickly after the first.

The chaos had raised Kim’s internal threat meter into the red zone and held it there. Her heart pounded and her ears rang with the aftermath of each new explosion.

Rapidly, her mind ran a threat assessment.

Had she been lured here by false promises of vital information?

Did Westwood mean to harm her?

Possibly. What did she know about Westwood, after all?

He claimed Reacher had sent him.

Which was possible, but not likely. Why draw her to a place where no conversation could possibly happen if his intent was to discuss vital matters? The plan was preposterous on its face.

Still, perhaps Reacher did send him. Westwood’s claim couldn’t be confirmed or disproved because Reacher was, as always, unreachable.

Meaning Westwood’s story could easily be a lie.

He might have discovered Lucas’s death.

He might even be responsible for Lucas’s murder.

Kim’s natural skepticism and wariness increased as conditions on the ground became more threatening. Westwood seemed dangerously threatening to her now.

Why didn’t he wait in his suite, as they’d planned?

If Westwood had lured her here to harm her, he could easily escape capture.

The observation deck tonight, with the crowds and the falls roaring and fireworks bursting in batches of gunpowder blasts overhead, was a perfect set up to cover an attack and get away.

Was Westwood that clever? That calculating?

Kim took a quick look over her shoulder seeking another glimpse of Russell. A solid batch of yellow ponchos filled the space between the tunnel’s exit and where she stood.

She couldn’t see Russell anywhere in the crowd. Mentally, she crossed her fingers, hoping he was there somewhere. Hoping she could rely on him if she needed to.

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