Page 5 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

No questions asked, no lies told.

Which also meant the noise was definitely not a neighbor looking to borrow a cup of something. Unless the woman liked coffee or wine or microwave popcorn, Kim had nothing to offer anyway.

Kim wasn’t expecting a visitor. And if an unexpected one had arrived, the temporary doorman installed downstairs at the front desk would have called up to warn her. That was his job, after all. He was well qualified to perform it expertly.

The regular night guy’s replacement might have called while she was in the shower or when she had the television too loud, though. Possibly.

She set the wine glass on the counter and walked to the door. She peered through the peephole into the dimly lit corridor.

Empty. Same as always.

Still, she’d heard the noise. No doubt in her mind.

A dull thud, like a suitcase or a heavy parcel making solid contact with the lower third of the solid steel.

Kim moved toward the small table near the entry and retrieved her off-duty pistol. She lived in this building because security was the tightest she could buy close to the FBI’s Field Office.

But she had no illusions about personal safety anywhere in her city.

She lived in Detroit, where the weak were killed and eaten.

Any woman who didn’t carry a gun and know how to use it here was a fool with a death wish. Just ask the mayor and the chief of police.

Kim returned to the front door with her weapon and leaned against the door while she used her palm print on the biometric panel to release the door lock.

The mechanism clicked into the open position and the door was immediately shoved inward. Kim braced her feet to use all of her weight against the force of the heavy door, but it pushed her backward relentlessly.

She was losing the battle.

She couldn’t shove the door closed again. All she could do was slow its momentum while using it for cover.

When the door opened wide enough, Kim leaned around and looked down.

She blinked to clear her vision. She looked again.

Yes.

A dead man’s heavy body and bloody head.

On the floor.

Pushing against her front door.

He was too heavy for her to successfully resist his weight and pressure on the door.

This guy was coming inside.

One way or another.

Kim stepped aside and allowed the body to push the door all the way open.

As the door moved, so did the body.

When the steel hit the doorstop, the man’s upper body flopped across her threshold, leaving his lower torso in the hallway.

Kim knelt and checked his carotid pulse. Nothing.

His skin was still warm. He hadn’t been dead long.

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