Running Blind (The Visitor)

without leaving bruises on their cheeks, their jaws, all over them. Flesh would tear against their teeth, their lips would be bruised and cut, maybe the teeth themselves would loosen. And they’d be biting and scratching and kicking. Traces under their nails. Bruised knuckles. Defensive injuries. It would be a fight to the death, right? And there’s no evidence of fighting. None at all.”
    “Maybe he drugged them,” Blake said. “Made them passive, you know, like that date-rape thing.”
    Stavely shook his head.
    “Nobody was drugged,” he said. “Toxicology is absolutely clear, all four cases.”
    The room went silent again and Reacher pulled Harper upright by the hands. She slid off the table and dusted herself down. Walked back to her seat.
    “So you’ve got no conclusions?” Blake asked.
    Stavely shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve got a great conclusion. But it’s an impossible conclusion.”
    Silence.
    “I told you, this is a very smart guy,” Reacher said. “Too smart for you. Way too smart. Four homicides, and you still don’t know how he’s doing it.”
    “So what’s the answer, smart guy?” Blake said. “You going to tell us something four of the nation’s best pathologists can’t tell us?”
    Reacher said nothing.
    “What’s the answer?” Blake asked again.
    “I don’t know,” Reacher said.
    “Great. You don’t know.”
    “But I’ll find out.”
    “Yeah, like how?”
    “Easy. I’ll go find the guy, and I’ll ask him.”
    FORTY-ONE MILES AWAY, slightly east of north, the colonel was two miles from his office, after a ten-mile journey. He had taken the shuttle bus from the Pentagon’s parking lot and gotten off near the Capitol. Then he had hailed a cab and headed back over the river to the National Airport’s main terminal. His uniform was in a leather one-suiter slung on his shoulder, and he was cruising the ticket counters at the busiest time of day, completely anonymous in a teeming crush of people.
    “I want Portland, Oregon,” he said. “Open roundtrip, coach.”
    A clerk entered the code for Portland and his computer told him he had plenty of availability on the next nonstop.
    “Leaves in two hours,” he said.
    “OK,” the colonel said.
    "YOU THINK YOU’LL find the guy?” Blake repeated.
    Reacher nodded. “I’ll have to, won’t I? It’s the only way.”
    There was silence in the conference room for a moment. Then Stavely stood up.
    “Well, good luck to you, sir,” he said.
    He walked out of the room and closed the door softly behind him.
    “You won’t find the guy,” Poulton said. “Because you’re wrong about Caroline Cooke. She never served in ordnance warehousing or weapons testing. She proves your theory is shit.”
    Reacher smiled. “Do I know all about FBI procedures? ”
    “No, you don’t.”
    “So don’t talk to me about the Army. Cooke was an officer candidate. Fast-track type. Had to be, to finish up in War Plans. People like that, they send them all over the place first, getting an overview. That summary you’ve got in your file is incomplete.”
    "It is?”
    Reacher nodded. “Has to be. If they listed everywhere she was posted, you’d have ten pages before she made first lieutenant. You check back with Defense, get the details, you’ll find she was someplace that could tie her in.”
    The silence came back. There was a faint rush from the forced-air heating and a buzz from a failing fluorescent tube. A high-pitched whistle from the silent television. That was all. Nothing else. Poulton stared at Blake. Harper stared at Reacher. Blake looked down at his fingers, which were tapping on the table with silent fleshy impacts.
    “ Can you find him?” he asked.
    “Somebody’s got to,” Reacher said. “You guys aren’t getting anywhere.”
    “You’ll need resources.”
    Reacher nodded. “A little help would be nice.”
    “So I’m gambling here.”
    “Better than putting all your chips behind a loser.”
    “I’m gambling big-time. With a lot at stake.”
    “Like your career?”
    “Seven women, not my career.”
    “Seven women and your career.”
    Blake nodded, vaguely. “What are the odds?”
    Reacher shrugged. “With three weeks to do it in? It’s a certainty.”
    “You’re an arrogant bastard, you know that?”
    “No, I’m realistic, is all.”
    “So what do you need?”
    “Remuneration,” Reacher said.
    “You want to get paid?”
    “Sure I do. You’re getting paid, right? I do all the work, only fair