Running Blind (The Visitor)

inked line under a fourth name. Then it slid upward a fraction and rested across the name itself. The right hand moved and the pen scored a thick line straight through it. Then the pen lifted off the page.
    "SO WHAT DO we do about it?” Harper asked.
    Reacher leaned back and closed his eyes again.
    “I think you should gamble,” he said. “I think you should stake out the surviving eight around the clock and I think the guy will walk into your arms within sixteen days.”
    She sounded uncertain.
    “Hell of a gamble,” she said. “It’s very tenuous. You’re guessing about what he’s guessing about when he looks at the list.”
    “I’m supposed to be representative of the guy. So what I guess should be what he guesses, right?”
    “Suppose you’re wrong?”
    “As opposed to what? The progress you’re making?”
    She still sounded uncertain. “OK. I guess it’s a valid theory. Worth pursuing. But maybe they thought of it already.”
    “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?”
    She was quiet for a second. “OK, talk to Lamarr, first thing tomorrow.”
    He opened his eyes. “You think she’ll be here?”
    Harper nodded. “She’ll be here.”
    “Won’t there be a funeral for her father?”
    Harper nodded again. “There’ll have to be a funeral, obviously. But she won’t go. She’d miss her own funeral, a case like this.”
    “OK, but you do the talking, and talk to Blake instead. Keep it away from Lamarr.”
    “Why?”
    “Because her sister clearly lives alone, remember? So her odds just went all the way down to eight to one. Blake will have to pull her off now.”
    “If he agrees with you.”
    “He should.”
    “Maybe he will. But he won’t pull her off.”
    “He should.”
    “Maybe, but he won’t.”
    Reacher shrugged. “Then don’t bother telling him anything. I’m just wasting my time here. The guy’s an idiot.”
    “Don’t say that. You need to cooperate. Think about Jodie.”
    He closed his eyes again and thought about Jodie. She seemed a long way away. He thought about her for a long time.
    “Let’s go eat,” Harper said. “Then I’ll go talk to Blake.”
    FORTY-THREE MILES AWAY, slightly east of north, the uniformed man stared at the paper, motionless. There was a look on his face appropriate to a man making slow progress through a complicated undertaking. Then there was a knock at his door.
    “Wait,” he called.
    He clicked the ruler down onto the wood and capped his pen and clipped it into his pocket. Folded the list and opened a drawer in his desk and slipped the list inside and weighted it down with a book. The book was a Bible, King James Version, black calfskin binding. He placed the ruler flat on top of the Bible and slid the drawer closed. Took keys from his pocket and locked the drawer. Put the keys back in his pocket and moved in his chair and straightened his jacket.
    “Come,” he called.
    The door opened and a corporal stepped inside and saluted.
    “Your car is here, Colonel,” he said.
    “OK, Corporal,” the colonel said.
    THE SKIES ABOVE Quantico were still clear, but the crispness in the air was plummeting toward a real night chill. Darkness was creeping in from the east, behind the buildings. Reacher and Harper walked quickly and the lights along the path came on in sequence, following their pace, as if their passing was switching the power. They ate alone, at a table for two in a different part of the cafeteria. They walked back to the main building through full darkness. They rode the elevator and she unlocked his door with her key.
    “Thanks for your input,” she said.
    He said nothing.
    “And thanks for the handgun tutorial,” she said.
    He nodded. “My pleasure.”
    “It’s a good technique.”
    “An old master sergeant taught it to me.”
    She smiled. “No, not the shooting technique. The tutorial technique.”
    He nodded again, remembering her back pressed close against his chest, her hips jammed against his, her hair in his face, her feel, her smell.
    “Showing is always better than telling. I guess,” he said.
    “Can’t beat it,” she replied.
    She closed the door on him and he heard her walk away.

14
    HE WOKE EARLY, before daybreak. Stood at the window for a spell, wrapped in a towel, staring out into the darkness. It was cold again. He shaved and showered. He was halfway through the Bureau’s bottle of shampoo. He dressed standing next to the bed. Took his coat from the closet and put it on. Ducked back into