Blue Moon

“But the doctors are optimistic,” Maria said. “So far, anyway. We’ll know more soon. They’ll do another scan before long.”

“If we pay for it first,” her husband said.

Six chances before the week is over, Reacher thought.

He said, “We think Meg’s old boss is still in town. We think he still has money. Your lawyers reckon the best strategy is to sue him direct. Absolutely can’t fail, they said.”

“Where is he?” Shevick asked.

“We don’t know yet.”

“Can you find him?”

“Probably,” Reacher said. “That kind of thing used to be part of my job.”

“The law moves slow,” Maria said, like she had once before.

They ate the lunch from the gas station deli. In the living room, because the kitchen had only three chairs. Abby sat cross-legged on the floor where the TV used to be, and ate off her lap. Maria Shevick asked her what she did for a living. Abby told her. Aaron talked about the good old days before computer controlled machine tools. When everything was cut by eye and feel, to a thousandth of an inch. They could make anything. American workers. Once the greatest natural resource in the world. Now look what happened. A crying shame.

Reacher heard a car in the street. The soft hiss and squelch of a big sedan. He got up and stepped into the hallway and looked out the window. A black Lincoln Town Car. Two guys in it. Pale faces, fair hair, white necks. They were trying to turn the car around. Back and forth, back and forth, across the narrow width. They wanted to be facing in the right direction. For a fast getaway, perhaps. Abby’s Toyota didn’t help. It was in the way.

Reacher went back to the living room.

He said, “They figured out Aaron Shevick’s address.”

Abby stood up.

Maria said, “They’re here?”

“Because someone sent them,” Reacher said. “That’s the thing we have to remember. We’ve got about thirty seconds to figure this out. Whoever sent them knows where they are. If anything happens to them, this house becomes ground zero for retribution. We should try to avoid that if possible. If we were somewhere else, no problem. But not here.”

Shevick said, “So what do we do?”

“Get rid of them.”

“Me?”

“Any of you. Just not me. I’m the one they think is Aaron Shevick.”

There was a knock at the door.

Chapter 18

There was a second knock at the door. No one moved. Then Abby took a step, but Maria put a hand on her arm, and Aaron went instead. Reacher ducked into the kitchen, and sat there, listening. He heard the door open, and then a missed beat from the step, just silence, as if the two guys were momentarily set back by the fact that the man who had opened the door was not the man they were looking for.

One of them said, “We need to speak with Mr. Aaron Shevick.”

Mr. Aaron Shevick said, “Who?”

“Aaron Shevick.”

“I think he was the last tenant.”

“You rent here?”

“I’m retired. Too expensive to buy.”

“Who’s your landlord?”

“A bank.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m not sure I want to tell you that, until you state your business.”

“Our business is private, with Mr. Shevick alone. It’s a very sensitive matter.”

“Wait a minute,” Shevick said. “Are you from the government?”

No answer.

“Or the insurance fund?”

One of the two guys said, “What’s your name, old man?”

Menace in his voice.

Shevick said, “Jack Reacher.”

“How do we know you’re not Aaron Shevick’s dad?”

“We would have the same name.”

“Father-in-law, then. How do we know he’s not in the house right now? Maybe you took over the lease and he squats in a room. We know he’s not exactly swimming in cash right now.”

Shevick said nothing.

The same voice said, “We’re coming in to take a look.”

There was the sound of Shevick getting shoved aside, and then footsteps in the hallway. Reacher stood up and moved behind the kitchen door. He opened a drawer, and another, and another, until he found a cooking knife. Better than nothing. He heard Abby and Maria move out of the living room and into the hallway.

The footsteps kept on coming.

He heard Abby say, “Who are you?”

“We’re looking for Mr. Aaron Shevick,” one of the guys said.

“Who?”

“What’s your name?”

“Abigail,” Abby said.

“Abigail what?”

“Reacher,” she said. “These are my grandparents, Jack and Joanna.”

“Where’s Shevick?”

“He was the last tenant. He moved out.”

“Where did he go?”

“He didn’t leave a forwarding address. He gave the impression he was having serious financial problems. I think basically he skipped in the night. He ran away.”

“You sure?”

“I know who lives here, mister. This is a two-bedroom house. One for my grandparents, and one for me, when I’m here. For guests, when I’m not. There are no squatters. I think I would have noticed.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Aaron Shevick.”

“No.”

“I met him,” Maria Shevick said. “When we first saw the house.”

“What did he look like?”

“I remember him as being tall and powerfully built.”

“That’s the guy,” the voice said. “How long has he been gone?”

“About a year.”

No response. The footsteps moved on, to the living room door. The voice said, “You’ve been here a year and you don’t have a TV yet?”

“We’re retired,” Maria said. “These things are expensive.”