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“No.”
“Whyever not?”
“I shot them in the head and burned their bodies in a gasoline fire. There was nothing left to arrest.”
Julia said nothing. No shock. No outrage. Maybe a small tight smile. Her husband’s murderers. Human nature.
Reacher sat quiet, watching the cross streets.
Eventually Julia said, “Why did this happen?”
“Your husband was turning over a rock that someone didn’t want turned over.”
Then up ahead the town car flashed through the intersection. In a hurry. Way more than twenty-five miles an hour. A tactical withdrawal. Everyone took the deal. Everyone always had, everyone always would.
“Was that it?” Julia asked.
“Yes,” Reacher said. “We can relax now. It’s safe to go home.”
“They could trick us and double back.”
“But they won’t.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I’m the mad dog outside the wire. They’re afraid of me. Next time they see me they want daylight and numbers and open space and territory they control.”
“That’s not good for you.”
“It’s fine for me,” Reacher said. “I’m looking forward to it already.”
He got out of the car and walked around the hood and eased the stroller out of Julia’s way. Amanda was still spark out. She looked like she would sleep for a week. Julia got out of the passenger seat and he closed up the car.
He said, “Let me push the stroller.”
It was a brand-new experience. He had never done it before. Not once in his life. They made it back to her lobby. She held the door and he maneuvered the stroller inside. It only just fit through. It was immense. The doorman was behind the desk. He looked pleased they had encountered each other. As if he had succeeded with a concierge-level accomplishment.
Reacher asked him, “Did anyone else just stop by?”
“Three men in a black car,” the guy said. “From the FBI. They had badges. I told them the same as I told you, that Mrs. Bisley was out for a walk.”
“Are the cameras back on again yet, by any chance?”
“They came back on a minute ago,” the guy said. “Not sure what happened. But all good now.”
Reacher walked with Julia to the elevator. He said, “Switching the cameras back on is their formal instrument of surrender. They won’t come back tonight.”
“They can turn our cameras off?”
“The modern world,” Reacher said. “It’s all about computers now. But you know more about that than me.”
The elevator door dinged and opened. Julia pushed the stroller inside.
“Goodnight,” Reacher said. “Sleep tight. See you at ten.”
“Goodnight,” she said.
The elevator door closed on her.
