She had found the place people said sold the best burgers in town. She suggested they head straight there, get some carryout, and take it to their hotel. That wasn’t an approach Reacher favored. He preferred to show up and see how a place looked for himself. He appreciated a good diner. And he was totally opposed to anything that smacked of running and hiding. Reacher was wired to move toward danger. To confront it. To defeat it, or die trying. It was baked into his DNA. But he could tell that Hannah was approaching her limit. She knew people were looking for them. The same group of people who had tried to kill her. It was reasonable for her to want to get off the street. To be out of sight as quickly as possible. It would have been cruel to force her to do otherwise, so Reacher didn’t argue.
The burger place was four blocks north of Main Street in a building that used to be a gas station. Its original pumps were still there, now repurposed as decorations with neon lights. The forecourt had been turned into a parking area. The tables were in the main building, behind large, curved windows and under an extravagant gull-wing roof.
The drive-through counter was where the old night-service window had been. Hannah pulled up next to it. She ordered, paid, and had a paper sack full of food in her hand inside three minutes. She had gotten one burger with a single patty, mushrooms, and truffle aioli for herself and two doubles with American cheese and nothing green for Reacher. She waited another minute for their two large coffees to come out then moved toward the exit. She entered the hotel’s address into the map on her phone and a robot voice told her to
Once they were back on Main Street the phone directed them to the east, away from the center of town. The hotel was near the river, to the north. It wasn’t far as the crow flies but a ridge of trees meant there was no direct route. The sun was low in the sky. Dense branches overhead cut the available daylight further. The road was quiet. They didn’t see another vehicle for five minutes. Then a car appeared. It came closer and the shape of a lightbar solidified on its roof. It passed them. Its roof bar lit up. The narrow corridor between the trees started to pulse with red and blue. Then the car turned and sped back toward the truck.
Hannah said, “Oh, please, no. What now? What do we do?”
Reacher said, “There’s nothing to worry about. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We haven’t? Those six guys you beat up might tell a different story.”
“They’re not here. And they’re in no position to call 911. Trust me. This is just routine bullshit. It’s going to be fine.”
“What if it isn’t?”
Reacher said nothing.
—
Hannah pulled the truck over to the side of the road. The police car tucked in behind with its lights still flashing. The cop stayed inside for a couple more minutes. Reacher didn’t know if he was checking something, calling for reinforcements, or just trying to play mind games. He didn’t care which, as long as the cop didn’t keep it up for too long. He didn’t want his burgers to get cold.
The cop finally climbed out and approached the driver’s window. He lifted his hand. The knuckle of his middle finger was extended, ready to knock, but Hannah buzzed the window down before he made contact with the glass.
The cop said, “Good afternoon, s…miss. Do you know why I pulled you over?”
Hannah shook her head. “I have no idea. I wasn’t speeding.” She glanced across at Reacher. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’re driving a vehicle registered to an individual who, according to official records, is currently deceased.”
“Currently? Are you expecting that to change?”
The cop took a deep breath. “I’ll put this plainly. Why are you driving a dead man’s truck?”
“The dead man was my ex-husband. We were close. I had permission. I’m on his insurance. And I’m due to inherit the truck as soon as his will is read.”
“Your name, miss?”
“Hannah Hampton-Roth.”
“ID?”
“In my purse. OK if I get it?”
“Go ahead.”
Hannah took her purse from the backseat, rummaged in it for a moment, and pulled out her wallet. She opened it, then passed her driver’s license to the cop.
The cop studied the license for a moment then said, “Registration? Insurance?”
Hannah leaned across to the passenger side, opened the glove box, and took out a clear plastic pocket. The documents were inside. She straightened and handed it out of the window.
The cop said, “Wait here.” Then he walked back to his car.
Hannah stretched for the keys to switch the engine off but Reacher took her hand.
He said, “Leave it running. If the cop has his gun drawn when he gets back out, floor it. Same applies if another police cruiser shows up. Or anything that could be an unmarked car.”
—
