Page 13 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

He looked mid-forties. Short blond hair, brown eyes, clean shaven. If he was wearing his own lab coat, the embroidered text over his left breast pocket declared he was Dr. Ryan Samuel.

“Sorry to call on you so late, Dr. Samuel,” Kim said when he joined them.

“Let’s get this guy on the table and see what we can see,” Samuel replied, unzipping the body bag as he talked and pointed with his chin. “Gloves on the cart behind you.”

They gloved up and Russell helped Samuel with the heavy lifting. They moved the body from the gurney to the table, leaving the bag behind.

Samuel viewed the man’s body carefully from crown to soles without touching him. “Cause of death seems obvious. We don’t need a postmortem to know what happened here. Unless you have reason to be skeptical, I’d call it homicide rather than suicide.”

“It’s rare to see a suicide with two gunshot wounds to the head, but I have seen it happen,” Russell said.

“We found no weapon anywhere near the body,” Kim replied.

“We’re all in agreement, then,” Samuel said, standing back from the exam table. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“The first thing is to identify him,” Kim said. “We found no identification in his pockets. We’ve never seen him before.”

“Okay. We can run fingerprints and DNA against the databases quickly. Fingerprints can be done now. DNA will take a bit longer. We can’t check dental records unless we have something to compare them to,” Samuel replied. “We’ll check for birthmarks, tattoos, healed injuries, implants, anything that might give us a positive ID.”

“I’m sure it goes without saying that we appreciate your discretion here,” Russell said.

“Of course.” Samuel nodded. “When do you need the results of the autopsy?”

“What we really need is the ID,” Kim exchanged glances with Russell. “After that, we’d like to run ballistics on the bullet when we find a weapon to compare it to. And if there’s anything special about the bullet or anything else you find. Otherwise, the full autopsy can wait a bit longer.”

Samuel looked at the body again. “I’ll let you know when I have something to report.”

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Chapter 6

Friday, June 3

Near Cleveland, OH

Kim followed Russell out of the mortuary. They walked silently through the building, down the elevator, and into the night.

A slight breeze had picked up while they were inside, moving cold air across Lake Erie and reminding Kim that she should have brought a coat.

“How about coffee?” Russell asked, tilting his head toward a sign down the street advertising an all-night diner.

She nodded and fell into step beside him. What she’d have preferred was a few hours’ sleep while Samuel did his work. But she owed Russell now, so if he wanted to talk, she could sleep afterward.

“You’ve worked with Samuel before?” She asked as they walked west along the sidewalk.

She was pulling her travel bag with her laptop case secured and resting against the long handle. The bag was heavier than it looked, and the sidewalk was cracked, and the wheels caught in the uneven surfaces, jerking her to a halt now and then.

“Yeah, we’ve used him a couple of times on classified matters. He’s reliable enough. We can trust him.” He reached the glass door first and pulled it open, allowing Kim to walk through ahead of him. “He might have some answers in a few hours.”

The diner was unoccupied, which wasn’t surprising given the hour. Too late for dinner. Too early for breakfast.

The cook was in the kitchen behind the counter. His booming voice suggested they take a seat anywhere.

“Coffee?” the cook bellowed over the big griddle’s exhaust fans, as if there was no other reason to be in the place at this hour. He was probably right.

“Great,” Russell replied with a wave, following Kim to a table in the corner where she could sit with her back to the wall.

They got settled and the cook brought a plastic carafe in one big paw and two thick porcelain mugs in the other. “Cream and sugar?” he asked.

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