Running Blind (The Visitor)

answered, first ring.
    “I’m in,” he said. “I’m not happy about it, but I’ll do it.”
    There was a brief pause. He imagined the crooked teeth, revealed in a smile.
    “Go home and pack a bag,” she said. “I’ll pick you up in two hours exactly.”
    “No, I’m going to see Jodie. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
    “We’re not going by plane.”
    “We’re not?”
    “No, I never fly. We’re driving.”
    “To Virginia? How long will that take?”
    “Five, six hours.”
    “Six hours? In a car with you? Shit, I’m not doing that.”
    “You’re doing what you’re told, Reacher. Garrison, in two hours.”
    JODIE’S OFFICE WAS on the fortieth floor of a sixty-floor tower on Wall Street. The lobby had twenty-four-hour security and Reacher had a pass from Jodie’s firm that let him through, day or night. She was alone at her desk, reviewing morning information from the markets in London.
    “You OK?” he asked her.
    “Tired,” she said.
    “You should go back home.”
    “Right, like I’m really going to sleep.”
    He moved to the window and looked out at a sliver of lightening sky.
    “Relax,” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
    She made no reply.
    “I decided what to do,” he said.
    She shook her head. “Well, don’t tell me about it. I don’t need to know.”
    “It’ll work out. I promise.”
    She sat still for a second, and then she joined him at the window. Nuzzled into his chest and held him tight, her cheek against his shirt.
    “Take care,” she said.
    “I’ll take care,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
    “Don’t do anything stupid.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” he said again.
    She turned her face up and they kissed. He kept it going, long and hard, figuring the feeling was going to have to last him into the foreseeable future.
    HE DROVE FASTER than usual and was back at his house ten minutes before Lamarr’s two hours were up. He took his folding toothbrush from the bathroom and clipped it into his inside pocket. He bolted the basement door and turned the thermostat down. Turned all the faucets off hard and locked the front door. Unplugged the phone in the den and went outside through the kitchen.
    He walked to the end of the yard through the trees and looked down at the river. It was gray and sluggish, lined with morning mist like a quilt. On the opposite bank, the leaves were starting to turn, shading from tired green to brown and pale orange. The buildings of West Point were barely visible.
    The sun was coming over the ridge of his roof, but it was watery, with no warmth in it. He walked back to the house and skirted the garage and came out on his driveway. Hunched into his coat and walked out to the street. He didn’t look back at the house. Out of sight, out of mind . That was the way he wanted it. He crossed the shoulder and leaned on his mailbox, watching the road, waiting.

7
    LAMARR ARRIVED EXACTLY on time in a new Buick Park Avenue with shined paint and Virginia plates. She was alone and looked small in it. She eased to a stop and pressed a button and the trunk lid opened. There was a chrome supercharged label on the lip. Reacher closed the trunk again and opened the passenger door and slid inside.
    “Where’s your bag?” she asked.
    “I don’t have a bag,” he said.
    She looked blank for a second. Then she looked away from him like she was dealing with a social difficulty and eased away down the street. She paused at the first junction, unsure.
    “What’s the best way south?” she asked.
    “On a plane,” he said.
    She looked away again and made a left, away from the river. Then another, which set her heading north on Route 9.
    “I’ll pick up I-84 in Fishkill,” she said. “Go west to the Thruway, south to the Palisades, pick up the Garden State.”
    He was silent. She glanced at him.
    “Whatever,” he said.
    “Just making conversation.”
    “No need.”
    “You’re not being very cooperative.”
    He shrugged. “You told me you wanted my help with the Army. Not with the basic geography of the United States.”
    She raised her eyebrows and made a shape with her mouth like she was disappointed, but not surprised. He looked away and watched the scenery from his window. It was warm in the car. She had the heater on high. He leaned over and turned his side down by five degrees.
    “Too hot,” he said.
    She made no comment. Just drove on in silence. I-84 took them across the Hudson River and through Newburgh.