Running Blind (The Visitor)

maybe he’s eliminating witnesses to something.”
    “Witnesses to what?”
    “Some kind of a racket, I suppose.”
    “What kind of a racket?”
    Reacher shrugged. “Something big, something systematic, I guess.”
    There was silence.
    “Inside the Army?” Lamarr asked.
    “Obviously,” Reacher said.
    Blake nodded.
    “OK,” he said. “A big systematic racket, inside the Army. What is it?”
    “I don’t know.” Reacher said.
    There was silence again. Then Lamarr buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders started moving. She started rocking back and forward in her chair. Reacher stared at her. She was sobbing, like her heart was breaking. He realized it a moment later than he should have, because she was doing it absolutely silently.
    “Julia?” Blake called. “You OK?”
    She took her hands away from her face. Gestured helplessly with her hands, yes, no, wait . Her face was white and contorted and anguished. Her eyes were closed. The room was silent. Just the rasp of her breathing.
    “I’m sorry,” she gasped.
    “Don’t be sorry,” Blake said. “It’s the stress.”
    She shook her head, wildly. “No, I made a terrible mistake. Because I think Reacher’s right. He’s got to be. So I was wrong, all along. I screwed up. I missed it. I should have seen it before.”
    “Don’t worry about it now,” Blake said.
    She lifted her head and stared at him. “Don’t worry about it? Don’t you see? All the time we wasted?”
    “Doesn’t matter,” Blake said, limply.
    She stared on at him. “Of course it matters . Don’t you see? My sister died because I wasted all this time. It’s my fault. I killed her . Because I was wrong.”
    Silence again. Blake stared at her, helplessly.
    "You need to take time out,” he said.
    She shook her head. Wiped her eyes. "No, no, I need to work. I already wasted too much time. So now I need to think. I need to play catch-up.”
    “You should go home. Take a couple of days.”
    Reacher watched her. She was collapsed in her chair like she had taken a savage beating. Her face was blotched red and white. Her breathing was shallow, and her eyes were blank and vacant.
    “You need rest,” Blake said.
    She stirred and shook her head.
    “Maybe later,” she said.
    There was silence again. Then she hauled herself upright in her chair and fought to breathe.
    “Maybe later I’ll rest,” she said. “But first I work . First, we all work. We’ve got to think. We’ve got to think about the Army. What’s the racket?”
    “I don’t know,” Reacher said again.
    “Well think, for God’s sake,” she snapped. “What racket is he protecting?”
    “Give us what you’ve got, Reacher,” Blake said. “You didn’t go this far without something on your mind.”
    Reacher shrugged.
    “Well, I had half an idea,” he said.
    “Give us what you’ve got,” Blake said again.
    “OK, what was Amy Callan’s job?”
    Blake looked blank and glanced at Poulton.
    “Ordnance clerk,” Poulton said.
    “Lorraine Stanley’s?” Reacher asked.
    “Quartermaster sergeant.”
    Reacher paused.
    “Alison’s?” he asked.
    “Infantry close-support,” Lamarr said, neutrally.
    “No, before that.”
    “Transport battalion,” she said.
    Reacher nodded. “Rita Scimeca’s job?”
    Harper nodded. “Weapons proving. Now I see why you made her tell me.”
    “Why?” Blake asked.
    “Because what’s the potential link?” Reacher asked. “Between an ordnance clerk, a quartermaster sergeant, a transport driver, a weapons prover?”
    “You tell me.”
    “What did I take from those guys at the restaurant?”
    Blake shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s James Cozo’s business, in New York. I know you stole their money.”
    “They had handguns,” Reacher said. “M9 Berettas, with the serial numbers filed off. What does that mean?”
    “They were illegally obtained.”
    Reacher nodded. "From the Army. M9 Berettas are military-issue.”
    Blake looked blank. “So what?”
    “So if this is some Army guy protecting a racket, the racket most likely involves theft, and if the stakes are high enough for killing people, the theft most likely involves weapons, because that’s where the money is. And these women were all in a position where they could have witnessed weapons theft. They were right there in the chain, transporting and testing and warehousing weapons, all day long.”
    There was silence. Then Blake shook his head.
    “You’re crazy,” he said. “It’s too