Page 93 of Bulletproof Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher

Ancaster, Ontario, CA

After Morin finally extricated himself from Krause’s murder scene, he contacted the pair of operatives he’d tasked to keep track of Audrey Ruston.

“Report target status,” he demanded as he backed his Range Rover along the driveway away from the house. What was the guy’s name? Morin couldn’t recall.

The skies were dark and heavy with rain clouds. He flipped on the intermittent windshield wipers and the automatic headlights illuminated. As he gained speed, the wind battered his vehicle, requiring two hands on the wheel to stay in his lane.

“We spotted Ruston’s vehicle at one of the hotels in Niagara Falls. Followed her to another hotel in a small town about half an hour north,” the operative stated flatly.

“And?” Morin asked, squinting into the rain.

“She stayed in the vehicle. Watched the hotel entrance. Drove past, turned around, and drove out of town,” the guy said. “That’s it.”

“Why’d she stop at that hotel?” Morin cocked his head. Audrey was many things, including great at her job. She never took a side trip for no reason. So why’d she do it?

“Can’t say. Something about the place caught her interest, but she didn’t even go inside once she arrived.”

“Nobody came out? She didn’t talk to anyone?”

“Nope.”

“Text me the name and address of the hotel,” Morin said, figuring to send two more operatives there when he finished this call. He’d have six men in the field. How would he explain that to Brax? “Then what?”

“Followed her about an hour northwest from that hotel to a house in Ancaster. She drove to the house, went inside, stayed a while, and came out. Still alone.”

“No one following her besides you?”

“Not that we’ve seen.”

Morin swiped a palm across his face. “Where’d she go from Ancaster?”

“Well, see, that’s the curious thing. She drove around the Hamilton area for a while. Seemed like she might be looking for something.”

“Like what?” Morin asked, not expecting an answer.

“Dunno. We thought maybe she’d made us and was looking for a way to ditch her tail. But she never tried anything. Finally turned into a narrow drive leading into a wooded area near the Devil’s Punchbowl.”

“The what?”

“The Devil’s Punchbowl. Big hole in the ground, I guess. It’s inside a conservation area on the escarpment.”

“The what?” Morin parroted.

“You know, escarpment. Bluff. Ridge. Whatever. Hell, we don’t know. We just read the sign. Anyway, we lost sight of her in the woods,” he said.

“You lost her? What the hell?”

“Not lost, exactly. But lost sight of her. We couldn’t follow her down that path. She’d have seen us,” he said. “The two-track is a dead end. Nowhere else for her to go. She’ll turn around and come out and we’ll pick her up again when she does.”

Morin punched the Devil’s Punchbowl into his GPS. A brief description, along with a few images and a map, promptly displayed on the screen.

He scanned the description. The area was an uninhabited nature attraction. Activities like hiking were popular. A deep cliff, a couple of smaller waterfalls than it’s Niagara cousin. Some tourist attractions nearby.

Nothing special about the place, as far as he could tell.

What the hell was Audrey doing there? Meeting someone. There could be no other logical explanation.

“Text me the location of the path she turned into,” he demanded. “Let me know immediately if she leaves. Don’t lose her.”

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