Running Blind (The Visitor)

me?”
    “You wasted thirty-six hours.”
    “No, I invested thirty-six hours.”
    “In what?”
    “I don’t know, yet.”
    She shrugged. “You’re a weird guy.”
    He nodded. “So people say.”
    Then he kissed her chastely on the cheek, before she could duck away. He stepped into his room. She waited until the door swung shut before she walked back to the elevator.
    THE SHEETS AND the towels had been changed. There was new soap and shampoo. A new razor and a fresh can of shaving cream. He upended a glass and put his toothbrush in it. Walked to the bed and lay down, fully dressed, still in his coat. Stared up at the ceiling. Then he rolled up onto one elbow and picked up the phone. Dialed Jodie’s number. It rang four times, and he heard her voice, slow and sleepy.
    “Who is it?” she said.
    “Me,” he said back.
    “It’s three o’clock in the morning.”
    “Nearly.”
    “You woke me up.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Locked up in Quantico.”
    She paused, and he heard the hum of the line and the faraway night sounds of New York. Faint isolated car horns, the whoop of a distant siren.
    “How’s it going?” she asked.
    “It’s not,” he said. “They’re going to replace me. I’ll be home soon.”
    “Home?”
    “New York,” he said.
    She was silent. He heard a quiet, urgent siren. Probably right there on Broadway, he thought. Under her window. A lonely sound.
    “The house won’t change anything,” he said. “I told you that.”
    “It’s the partnership meeting tomorrow,” she said.
    “So we’ll celebrate,” he said. “When I get back. As long as I’m not in jail. I’m still not out of the woods with Deerfield and Cozo yet.”
    “I thought they were going to forget about it.”
    “If I delivered,” he said. “And I haven’t delivered.”
    She paused again.
    “You shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place.”
    “I know that.”
    “But I love you,” she said.
    “Me too,” he said. “Good luck for tomorrow.”
    “You too.”
    He hung up and lay back down and resumed his survey of the ceiling. Tried to see her up there, but all he saw instead were Lisa Harper and Rita Scimeca, who were the last two women he’d wanted to take to bed but couldn’t, for force of circumstance. Scimeca, it would have been totally inappropriate. Harper, it would have been an infidelity. Perfectly sound reasons, but reasons not to do something don’t kill the original impulse. He thought about Harper’s body, the way she moved, the guileless smile, her frank engaging stare. He thought about Scimeca’s face, the invisible bruises, the hurt in her eyes. Her rebuilt life out there in Oregon, the flowers, the piano, the shine of her furniture wax, the buttoned-up defensive domesticity. He closed his eyes and then opened them and stared hard at the white paint above him. Rolled onto his elbow again and picked up the phone. Dialed 0, hoping to get a switchboard.
    “Yes?” said a voice he had never heard before.
    “This is Reacher,” he said. “Up on the third floor.”
    “I know who you are and where you are.”
    “Is Lisa Harper still in the building?”
    “Agent Harper?” the voice said. “Hold, please.”
    The line went quiet. No music. No recorded advertisements. No your call is very important to us . Just nothing. Then the voice came back.
    “Agent Harper is still here,” it said.
    “Tell her I want to see her,” Reacher said. “Right away.”
    “I’ll pass that message on,” the voice said.
    Then the line went dead. Reacher swung his feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, facing the door, waiting.
    THREE O’CLOCK IN the morning in Virginia was midnight on the Pacific coast, and midnight was Rita Scimeca’s habitual bedtime. She followed the same routine every night, partly because she was naturally an organized person, and partly because that aspect of her nature had been rigorously reinforced by her military training, and anyway when you’ve always lived alone and always will, how many ways are there of getting yourself to bed?
    She started in the garage. Turned off the power to the door opener, slid the bolts into place, checked the car was locked, turned off the light. Locked and bolted the door through to the basement, checked the furnace. Walked upstairs, turned off the basement light, locked the door out to the hallway. Checked the front door was locked, did the bolts, put the chain on.
    Then she checked the windows. There